#also ignore me saying I’m going on a writing hiatus this one time AKDJDKDJ

[crybaby-bkg]

okay but like……….toxic Dabi that wants everything you two have built together to crumble so badly. not because he hates it, or is getting bored of you, but because the calmness that falls around you and your relationship with him is…..baffling, to say the least. he’s used to destruction and chaos and flings and heartbreak and angst. he’s not used to being invited in, to being welcomed, to being accepted, to being loved. it’s foreign, and it’s starting to make a knot form in the pit of his belly every time he’s with you.

he’s fucking you one night, rolls you over so he’s on top again, and gets this look on his face. you can tell by now what it is—he’s in his head again, wondering how he can fuck up your relationship this time. so you take it with a grain of salt when he opens his big, dumb mouth suddenly.

“What if I just trapped you right now? Just held you down, and came inside of you? Put a baby in you?” His voice is eerily quiet under the sounds of your skin slapping together, the squelching from between your legs. you only reach up to stroke his cheek, pulling him down to kiss him quiet, whispering against his mouth,

“If you wanna get me pregnant, then just say that.” You tell him, eyes fluttering open to watch his squeeze shut. “I can make an appointment with my gyno to start preparing my body for it.” You’re so reassuring, that it disarms him. Dabi only nods, quiet finally, and doesn’t pull out when he cums.

or other times, when you’re making dinner for him, standing in your brightly lit kitchen in your underwear and his ratty shirt. he watches you with his chin in his palm, that same look gracing his face. you can practically feel him burning holes into the already hole filled shirt, and prepare yourself for his questions again.

“I could just whisk you away right now, you know that?” He mutters, eyes never leaving your form, your ass that peeks out. “Put you in a basement, far away from here.” And you disarm him again, walking over to where he sits with a wooden spoon in one hand, the other holding a palm underneath it.

“You wanna move? My apartment is feeling a little cramped these days.” You mumble, offering the spoon to his mouth. Dabi watches you for a few seconds before he opens his mouth, accepting the spoon, chewing as he eyes you warily before swallowing.

“Where were you thinking of moving to?” you ask him, wiping the corner of his mouth as he glares at you. but he tells you anyway, that he’s been looking at houses a few minutes away from here, that he saw one with three bedrooms and a big backyard.

other instances include him telling you that he could chain you down and keep you at his side forever and you ask him, when do you want to get married? or, that you try to kill him every time you cook and you ask him, what flavors am I missing for you? or, when he hides his face in your neck and curses about how much he can’t stand you or your stability or your stupid face or kind words and you ask him, when did you realize you loved me this much?