#bnha touya angst

[frickingnerd]

dabi with a s/o who has a healing quirk

pairing: touya todoroki / dabi x gn!reader

tags: hurt/comfort, painful quirk / quirk with drawbacks, reader is a league of villains member, protective dabi

you met dabi when you joined the league of villains

you were responsible for patching up the villains after their assaults against the heroes

at first, dabi didn't think much of you

but the two of you started to chat with each other a little each time you were healing him

he realized that you were too nice to be a villain and yet you had decided to stick with them

you could've joined any hero agency you wanted to with your quirk and yet you had landed here – with the villains!

he was intrigued by you and he couldn't help falling for you

dabi started to ask more questions about you, to learn more about your past, trying to understand you better

and it was during all of that that he discovered something about your quirk. something you had been hiding from him and the league of villains

your quirk had always seemed a bit too perfect in his eyes. you could heal any wound and it would barely even leave a scar

but there had been a drawback to your quirk. one that you had been keeping a secret from everyone

whenever you were healing someone, you could feel their pain

all those times when he came back half dead and let you heal his wounds, you could feel his pain as well…

as soon as he realized it, dabi started to feel horrible about it

he had put you through so much pain, without even realizing it! you were suffering all those months with him…

and you were healing the other members as well!

he couldn't even imagine how painful it must've been to be burdened with everyone's pain each day

now that dabi knew about the drawbacks of your quirk, he tried to avoid letting you use it

and he started to scold anyone who depended on your quirk too much

dabi would much rather prefer to watch his comrades suffer than you…

[inkykeiji]

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side. 

Yet. 

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you. 

“Touya.” 

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons. 

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.  

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on. 

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you. 

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame. 

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer. 

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips. 

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!” 

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!” 

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.” 

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling. 

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…” 

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!” 

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull. 

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.  

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him. 

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye. 

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!” 

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.” 

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech. 

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute. 

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten. 

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process? 

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya? 

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him. 

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly. 

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times. 

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man. 

 So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw. 

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.” 

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder. 

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?” 

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once. 

“I was overheating, and he…” 

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours. 

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice. 

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.” 

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat. 

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?” 

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face. 

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?” 

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.” 

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin. 

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.” 

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever. 

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you. 

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it. 

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much. 

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine. 

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.” 

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face. 

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh. 

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up. 

Sicko. 

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams. 

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.” 

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth. 

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin. 

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt. 

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction. 

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?” 

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?” 

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think? 

“You know.”

He does, of course he does. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.” 

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny. 

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring. 

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.” 

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?” 

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action. 

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full. 

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.” 

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?” 

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips. 

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?” 

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him? 

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!” 

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not. 

“Please, please—” 

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar. 

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips. 

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything. 

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs. 

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.” 

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him. 

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul. 

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable. 

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”  

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.” 

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues. 

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.” 

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!” 

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock. 

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.” 

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!” 

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.” 

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue. 

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!” 

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls. 

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?” 

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues. 

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.” 

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?” 

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly! 

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat. 

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?” 

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue. 

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples. 

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction. 

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you. 

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!” 

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords. 

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?” 

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.” 

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact. 

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails. 

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit. 

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw  by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling. 

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively. 

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?” 

“I always do, don’t I?” 

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone. 

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking. 

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips. 

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.” 

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin. 

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt. 

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more. 

So cute. 

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips. 

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole. 

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal. 

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis. 

“Fuck, f-fuck—” 

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch. 

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever. 

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name. 

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm. 

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum. 

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!” 

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!” 

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix. 

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs. 

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one. 

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs. 

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now? 

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin. 

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.” 

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob. 

“The dream, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.” 

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude. 

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter. 

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him. 

[sweetfushi]

dabi with his wife. his scars would almost split from his wide smiles around you. he’d spend his early mornings moving closer to you in bed and wrapping an arm around you, pulling your face into his chest as he presses the softest kisses on your head. he’s careful to not graze you with the metal of his stitches, but that doesn’t stop him from admiring your sleeping form. when you’re looking your worst after a bad night’s sleep or a bad day at work, he goes easy on you with his teasing. he knows how it feels, to be stressed and annoyed with in need of an outlet. except, he feels guilty that you perhaps hadn’t the courage to tell him everything. if you had, he wouldn’t have to smile at pictures of you instead of smiling in your presence. he wouldn’t had to have resorted to his old ways, roaming the streets at the darkest hours and engaging in the things you told him to stop doing. what was the point anymore? he promised he’d stop his fights and you promised to stay with him forever. your tombstone broke your promise, so why couldn’t he break his?

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[zeke-best]

dabi: i don't care about my family

dabi when he thinks about his family:

[tired-teacher-blog]

Listen, Dabi couldn't care less if you were a hero, a villain, or even a regular civilian, since he would treat you the same way regardless.

You had been stuck -for the longest time- in a whirlpool of doubt and self pity, wondering if you actually meant anything at all to the infamous villain, a question that had proven to be hard to answer due to the man's stoic and aloof personality as well as his rare showcase of emotions, and athough it is true you were his first and only woman, the awkwardness and rift that loomed over for weeks following your first night together, did nothing but confirm your doubts.

Not so much as a glance or a how-do-you-do, as if regretting the night of passion he had with you, no explanation whatsoever, none when he shunned you, and none when he sought you out again.

Yeah, you were a play thing to him, as worthless as you had always anticipated yourself to be.. or so you thought.

You once found yourself caught in a ferocious battle between the two parties, and while falling to the ground barely conscious, all you could think of was him.

_ "Get up! Get the fuck up do you hear me?! Come on what the hell!" the words themselves were nothing you hadn't heard him yell out before, however the look on his face while he gently cradled your head and caressed your cheeks, while he kissed your forehead and carried you to safety, that look was something new.

It was fright, pure and evident, but also a softness that you had never witnessed before, so maybe, just maybe, you weren't just a nobody to him.

For days after that fateful one, a glimpse of hope appeared within you, and a determination to have an answer settled in your mind.

_ "You.. you were worried about me that day.. weren't you?" you struggled between labored breaths as he finally pulled out of your sopping heat.

_ "Would you let it go." he flumped back into bed, pleading with his pulse to settle, and placing his forearm over his face to escape your interrogation, despite that, there was no vexation to his words, it was more like he was.. bashful?

You remained quiet but only for a moment, a smile adorning your face as you watched him fidgeting nervously.

_ "I can't help but wonder though, why did you start avoiding me after our first night together?" you turned on your side to face him, placing both hands under your cheek as you waited.

_ "Are you fucking kidding me woman? I lost my virginity to you! How was I supposed to act around you after that? I needed some time damnit."

You were stunned witnessing his outburst, his forearm no longer covered his flushed face, and his typical relaxed expression was replaced with a twisted one. It was honestly comical.

_ "So that's what it was.." your words were no higher than a whisper as you allowed his own to sink in, "you do like me then, right?"

_ "What kinda' stupid question is that? Nothing is forcing me to be with you, okay?" and his frown only deepened as he attempted to keep his guard up.

You weren't as cool though, and hearing his distorted confession gave you a boost of confidence to comfortably divulge your own at last, "I like you too, I really do!"

You jumped to his chest and hugged him tightly, giggling and kicking your feet while he growled in annoyance.

_ "Yeah okay, I get it, now settle down." his grumpy expression remained, but his arms had moved to wrap around you while he kissed the top of your head.

Dabi couldn't care less if you were a hero, a villain, or even a regular civilian, because regardless of that, his feelings for you will remain sincere, even if he fails to declare them properly.

Divider by @/saradika

[rishiguro]

“YOU’RE BLEEDING” - DABI

a/n: i love him so much it hurts

warnings: major character death. dabi‘s real identity. blood. mention of fire. desperate!dabi. implied murder. injury gets cauterized. 2k of angst.

“if you close your eyes, i’ll fucking burn you to a crisp” dabi‘s voice was stern as he talked, eyebrows furrowed with his teeth clenched. “you hear me?”

you blinked multiple times, trying to get your eyes to focus on the blurry person in front of you. why was it so bright? you tried lifting a hand up, shielding your face from the sun, however your arm felt too heavy for you to move it even an inch.

“huh?”

with heavy eyelids you decided to give it up, wanting nothing more than to succumb to your body‘s cries for sleep. it wouldn’t hurt, right? just a couple of minutes maybe?

you hummed, content with your decision, letting your eyelids drop.

“you’re going to stay awake and look at me with these dumb eyes and you’re going to listen to what i say” dabi‘s harsh voice made you rip your eyes open again, vision slowly clearing and allowing you to look at his face. “understood?”

you studied his face slowly but carefully. it felt like the first time you had seen him and you took your time to examine him.

your eyes wandered upwards from his chin, however halted the moment you looked at his eyes and the purple scars underlining them.

dabi‘s scars weren‘t red, were they?

“dabi,“ you tried, your voice weak but filled with concern. you had to tell him. what if something bad had happened to him?

“shut the fuck up,“ dabi insisted harshly, his jaw still clenched to the point where his words were barely comprehensible, “you can’t talk right now” the villain knew he had to get you out of here somehow, this area wasn’t safe for you anymore. you couldn’t move, you couldn’t defend yourself.

he was pretty.

“dabi”

didn’t you hear what he had just said? he grew impatient, couldn’t you just listen to him for once? it took everything in him to not yell as he looked around, assessing the situation the both of you were in. the alley was dark, only a dumpster shielding the two of you from the street if it wasn’t for the blue flames burning behind it. a charred heap lazily kicked away, ashes dirtying the cold floor even further. at least he couldn’t hurt you any further. “i said shut up”

cursing loudly, he took off his jacket, grabbing the hem of his white shirt and roughly pulling at it. the tearing of the fabric was louder than you could bear, ears starting to ring in pain.

“touya,“ you whispered impatiently, mentally praying for him to just listen.

“be fucking-“

“you’re bleeding,“ you interrupted him, not paying any attention to the way his head snapped back at you and how he was fully ready to cuss you out.

“the hell have i just-“

“why are you bleeding?” you asked, concern filling your voice. “are you hurt?”

whatever it was that dabi believed you would‘ve said to him, it certainly wasn’t this.

him? hurt? were you serious?

dabi couldn’t help but huff at your questions, rolling his eyes. “you’re one to fucking talk”

“now just—“ he stopped briefly, assessing the state you were in. he had to act quick, do something. “just lay still and don’t fucking talk”

you however didn’t pay any attention to what he was saying, instead carefully lifting your hand to his face, thumb rubbing over the scarred skin.

blood.

“i’m gonna get you out of here,“ dabi promised. he knew he couldn’t wait much longer. you grew weaker by the minute and he for sure wasn’t skilled enough to save you right then and there. but he had to do something. anything.

“i’m tired,” you whispered, your heavy eyelids close to shutting again.

“no you’re not,” dabi replied, skillfully dismissing you.

“don’t you dare to close your eyes,“ he continued to threaten you, a warm hand grabbing your face and turning you towards him again, “keep looking at me. you hear me? you’re not going to go now”

you didn’t like how his voice sounded, so rough and hoarse, almost like he couldn’t speak properly. it was a rare sigh for you to see, the villain was hunched over you, his breathing flat and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. you couldn’t see what he was doing and you didn’t have the strength to lift your head, even if you wanted to. but something about him was so raw, so vulnerable.

he was hurt, dabi was bleeding, his blood still adorning the tip of your fingers, and yet he kept talking to you, letting you hear him and telling you to just listen to him, do as he told you to. that’s the least you could do for him, wasn’t it?

you groaned, opening your eyes again, even though everything in yourself protested against it. you were so tired. “that’s it, keep looking right at me, you’re doing so good for me”

“you’re pretty” dabi froze, his eyebrows furrowing, before shaking his head, dismissing you again.

him and pretty?

“you’re seeing things,” he muttered, throwing his head around and searching the area. the blue flames burning multiple feet away, shielding the two of you from the streets slowly started to dwindle. dabi could hear the commotion that was going on on the other side of it, the bright fire attracting the attention of civilians. it wouldn’t be much longer till a hero would come around.

he had to get you out of here, move you to a safer location. dabi cursed as soon he looked back at you. you were pale, too pale, and your breathing was barely audible. he didn’t even know if you were breathing properly. “i’m gonna pick you up now. it’s gonna hurt,” he warned, trying to shove his arms underneath you to support your body and carry you away.

“don’t,” you pleaded, looking at the villain with a scared look on your face. he couldn’t do that now, he shouldn’t. he was hurt, he was bleeding. you had to take care of him, you had to make sure he was safe, but you were too weak to get up. why were you so weak?

dabi’s jaw clenched, shaking his head at your protests. why couldn’t you just listen to him for once in your life? “this is really not the time for you to pick a fucking argument with me, so shut up and let me get you out of here”

weakly you shook you head, fully aware that you weren‘t strong enough to stop him in his doing anyways. “no, you’re bleeding,” you insisted. why wasn’t he listening to you?

why were you so stubborn? digging his fingernails into his palm, dabi fed into the flames shielding you from the public before he turned back to you. his mind was racing as he desperately tried to come up with a solution, a way out of any kind. “i fucking know, but so are you so please just—“

why was he so adamant to get you to agree to him? why couldn’t he just move? why couldn’t he just do as he wanted?

“you shouldn’t be bleeding,” you stated.

you shouldn’t be bleeding either, dabi thought, and yet here you were.

“for fucks sake, just please shut up,” dabi grew more and more agitated by the second, feeling the anger rise in him, skin slowly heating up. why was it so hard for you to listen, just for once? dabi cringed as he looked down at your torso, your shirt soaked in blood that by now has started to spill on the ground underneath you, your face drained of all color. dabi could hear how hard it was for you to talk, how your voice was nothing more than a pained whisper, a plea for him to listen to you. “stop talking, you’re only making it worse,” he chided, now not caring anymore about the potential pain he might cause you. he cursed, ripping a hole in your top, only to immediately shut his eyes in defeat as he assessed the damage.

this was bad. there was no way he could get you away in time.

turning your head away from him in shame, you muttered a small apology. you always managed to make things worse somehow.

truth to be told, dabi didn’t pay a lot of attention to what you said. instead he carelessly pulled on his own white shirt again, to the point where he ripped the hem of it. fisting the fabric he pressed it against your open flesh, watching as it turned crimson way too fast. “you should be. shit, it won’t stop”

you couldn’t help but smile weakly at his snarky comment. “you’re an asshole”

“doing my best, doll,” the villain replied, his lips curved upward too. however his smile fell immediately as he tossed the bloody fabric away.

dabi pulled at his hair in frustration. this wasn’t working, he wasn’t helping. he couldn’t just helplessly watch as your life force drained away, flowing right out of your body.

his stomach turned at the thought of his head, the only way he could try to save you right now— but he hated it. he didn’t want to do it, he didn’t want to hurt you even more. but what more could he do? if he cauterized the wound maybe then he could get you away, to safety, maybe then someone could patch you up, somehow.

maybe you could be kept alive then.

dabi swallowed, closing his eyes as he took in a deep breath. “i need to stop the bleeding, this is gonna be very hot but i need you to take it“

he didn’t wait for your reply till he pressed his palm against your wound, heating it up as soon as he came in contact with it. dabi turned his head away in shame as you cried out in pain. the smell of burned flesh filled the villain‘s nostrils, making his stomach turn in disgust.

when he turned back to you, after moments that felt like an eternity, he was horrified as he saw you with your eyes closed, your chest barely moving. were you even breathing anymore? “keep your eyes open,” he commanded sternly, hand against your blood-stained cheek.

but you barely moved. only now did he notice how cold your skin felt against his hot hands. eyes wide in terror, he grabbed your shoulders, slightly shaking your body. “fuck, stay with me”

“please, don’t do this to me,” dabi pleaded, pulling your form into his lap.

“look at me,” he continued, shoving a hand underneath your knees and lifting your body off the ground. he pulled you close to him, hoping that his own warmth might heat your body up a little.

“listen to me”

dabi ran faster than he ever has, pressing you against his chest. he had to run faster, be quicker, get you away from here.

“stay with me,” he pleaded, trying to catch his breath.

you however didn’t seem to listen, to even hear him and his cries. no, you didn’t move in his arms. you almost looked like you were sleeping peacefully.

too peaceful for his liking.

dabi clenched his teeth, muttering curses under his breath. “are you deaf, you’re gonna keep your pretty eyes open and you’re gonna stay right here with me,” he commanded coldly, trying to mask just how desperate he was.

you could barely hear what the villain had just said. it took you everything to open your eyes again, to look at him. was he always this blurry? “i don’t feel so good, touya”

“i know, fuck, i know,” he answered, turning around to see if someone had been following him. hiding between some dumpsters in the outskirts of the city, he carefully placed you down again, grabbing your hands to get your attention. “but you’re not gonna leave me now, forget it”

dabi sat down in front of you, grabbing your shoulders as he noticed you slumping. “i’m not letting you,” he insisted, pulling you into a tight embrace. you couldn’t leave him, you couldn’t just go and leave him behind. he needed you. he wanted you by his side, he had to have you by his side. “you’re not fucking leaving me”

you meant so much to him that it hurt, and now you were practically at death‘s door, and dabi couldn’t help but feel like you wanted to leave him. if you didn’t, why weren’t you fighting harder? why weren’t you staying awake? why couldn’t you hold on for him just a while longer?

you only managed to sigh in his hold, your eyes now too heavy to keep open. it wouldn’t hurt to shut them, right? you were so tired, so, so tired.

dabi stayed like that, holding you close to him, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. you were going to be okay, you had to be. you couldn’t leave him. “hey, open your eyes”

so why didn’t you respond? why were you so still? “i said open your eyes”

why were you so cold? why were you so pale? “fuck, open them”

why didn’t you move?

“doll, please,” the villain begged, pushing you away from him to take a look at you. you‘re eyes were shut, your mouth slightly opened, almost like you were just about to say something. you were, weren’t you? “just look at me, you can do that, can’t you?”

but why didn’t you do anything? why were you so still? you were supposed to open your eyes, to reassure him, to tell him you were here with him, that you listened, that you wouldn’t leave him. that you‘d never leave him.

“open your fucking eyes!“ he demanded now, violently shaking your still form. a loud, pained cry burned his throat as he threw his head back.

“you said you wouldn’t leave me!” he cried, yelling at you accusingly, like he was expecting you to answer, to justify yourself. how could you just leave him behind like that, how could you just go like you didn’t care how he felt about it. “i told you, you can’t!”

dabi pressed you against his chest again, curling your body in his hold, rocking the both of you back and forth. “i need you, please”

as he looked down at your face, he noticed small drops of crimson falling onto your skin.

dabi was bleeding.

reblogs are appreciated

[shonen-brainrot]

Inmate!Dabi, who maneuvers through the intricate hierarchy of Tartarus, holds a position of both fear and respect.

Inmate!Dabi, who swiftly garners a notorious reputation among newcomers in prison, as word circulates with cautionary whispers, "Steer clear of that guy, you don't want to cross paths."

Inmate!Dabi, who becomes an exceptionally perilous figure, given his readiness to resort to violence. To find oneself a prisoner while becoming the object of his obsession would undeniably plunge one into an abyss of absolute hell.

Inmate!Dabi, who stands behind a plethora of poker games and shady activities, deftly manipulating both the incarcerated and the enforcers simultaneously. Thanks to this shrewd strategy, he collects favors, ensuring practically everyone is indebted to him in some fashion.

Inmate!Dabi, who consistently emerges unscathed from prison riots.

Inmate!Dabi, who has a penpal connection with you.

Inmate!Dabi, who becomes increasingly fixated on your correspondence, displays a subtle but undeniable obsession.

Inmate!Dabi, who, driven by a growing obsession, insists that you visit him in Tartarus.

Inmate!Dabi, who, having earned your trust through an extensive exchange of letters spanning half a year, achieves his goal when you finally inform him in one of your letters of securing permission to visit him.

Inmate!Dabi, who finds himself one day with handcuffs securing his hands, being escorted directly into the visiting area.

Inmate!Dabi, who, utilizing a substantial sum of money amassed from poker and other ventures, successfully bribes both guards escorting him. Upon entering the visiting area, they oblige by removing his handcuffs, leaving only the quirk blocker restraint secured around his ankle.

Inmate!Dabi, who waits patiently as other visitors leave the room, accompanied by fellow inmates who cast cold glances his way.

Inmate!Dabi, who is unable to tear his turquoise eyes away from your beautiful face and the contours of your body accentuated by the snug jeans and white shirt you wear.

Inmate!Dabi, who, with his voice carrying a low, persuasive tone, encourages you to come closer. "Don't be shy. There's nothing to be afraid of, doll," he smirks, his turquoise eyes locking onto yours.

Inmate!Dabi, who engages in casual chitchat with you, bluntly checking you out as you sit across the table. He smoothly asks questions, and you respond politely.

Inmate!Dabi, who, in a sudden move, leans forward and extends his hand, his long, calloused fingers gently brushing your cheek, eliciting a gasp as you notice the absence of handcuffs. "Don't worry, doll," he smirks, "I ain't gonna hurt ya, yeah?"

Inmate!Dabi, who informs you that he was on his best behavior, earning the privilege to go without cuffs, slyly admitting it was just to have the freedom to touch you. Another gasp escapes you, your cheeks flushing with a rosy hue, and you don't know why are you reacting that way.

Inmate!Dabi, who, as the visit comes to an end, rises from his seat and confidently seizes your wrist, pulling you closer to whisper in your ear, "I can tell you're into me, you wouldn't be here otherwise. No need to be shy about it, good girls like you always enjoy a little play with bad boys."

Inmate!Dabi, who forcefully presses his rugged lips against your soft ones, stifling a small moan that escapes your lips as his free hand firmly grasps your ass. squeezing it with intensity. "I'm already counting down the moments until your next visit, doll."

[harleys1nhawaii]

TEASE [dabi / todoroki touya x fem!reader]

he's close, you easily can tell.

he's rocking his hips to your wet core harder each time, with no remorse. you're squeling, tears blur your vision. he knows what he's doing to you, how good he makes you feel, like nobody else can. you can hear his grunts and low hisses under his breath. god, you think, being this fine has to be unfair. once you finally manage to open you eyes, you stare up at him. he looked breathtaking with his head thrown back and mouth open, brows furrowed with desire and lust. and kind of...cute. you can't help but giggle at the sight. when your voice catches your own ears, you realize you might've put yourself in a situation you'll regret soon. he lookes down at you, with a slight smirk plastered on his face. if you weren't soaking already, you swore you'd cum just by looking at his face like that.

"what's up, dollface?" he rocks his hips harder this time and steals a low cry from you. but you're already under him and destroyed, so why not play along your little teasing as well? "you look cute when you're close." you cheekily grin. "oh, do i?" now, his smile is bigger than yours. he brings his thumb to wipe the tears peeking around the corners of your eyes as he slams his body to yours one more time. "let's see how ya look like then, shall we?" he purrs. once you see how his eyes darken and his grip on your waist gets rougher, it's your time to panic.

he was close, you swore he was close. but when you came sooner than him it was frustrating. little did you know, though, he wasn't going to stop. not after your silly little teasing. he wasn't going to stop until he could cheekily observe your cumming face enough to picture it for any other time, later.

[doumadono]

SO SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU, MARCIANNA 🌹 I'd be delighted to order a cup of mango-vanilla ice-cream with maple syrup. I want my order to be served with post-war Dabi :3

A/N: thank you so much, my sweetie! I hope you'll enjoy this little blurb!

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA

In the quiet corridors of the hospital, you found yourself standing outside Touya's room once again. The sterile scent of the hospital was now too familiar, but it was the sight of him lying so still, connected to machines and monitors, that never failed to break your heart.

With a heavy sigh, you walked into the room. "Hey, Touya," you whispered as if he could reply, pulling a chair next to his bed. "Today was another tough day, just like all the others since you've been asleep," you said softly, gently touching his still hand.

It had become a habit to share your day with him, updating him on the mundane details of life and the state of the world.

You visited him every day, sitting by his bedside, holding his hand, and whispering words of comfort, even if he couldn't hear them. Some nights, when the nurses were occupied and the world seemed to stand still, you stayed by his side, watching over him as if willing him to wake up with the power of your love alone.

Tears streamed down your face as you traced the lines of his scarred face, yearning for the spark of life to return to his turquoise eyes. The pain of seeing him like this weighed heavily on your heart, but you refused to give up hope.

One evening, as the setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, something miraculous happened.

As you sat beside him, holding his hand and lost in thought as you frequently did, you noticed a faint movement. Touya was wiggling in the bed, his body trying to adjust, even though he was still intubated.

Your heart raced as you realized what was happening. Without wasting a moment, you sprinted out of the room to find the doctors and nurses, calling for their immediate attention. "He's awake, he's awake!" You screamed like a maniac.

When you returned into the room, medical professionals in tow, Touya's turquoise eyes were open, his gaze slightly unfocused but undeniably awake. As the doctors worked to remove the tube from his throat, your heart leapt in your chest as you looked down at Touya, and his gaze found yours. It was as if the universe had heard your prayers, bringing him back to you.

Once the tube was removed, it took him a moment to focus all of his senses on being awake again. "Y/N?" he rasped, his voice hoarse from the tube.

Your name. His first action was calling out your name.

Tears of relief streamed down your face as you took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm here, Touya. I'm here."

A nurse quickly intervened, checking his vitals and ensuring that he was stable. As the room buzzed with activity, you stayed close, unwilling to leave his side.

"Thank you," Touya whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "For being here, for not giving up on me..."

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "I told you I'd always be here, Touya. Always."

"I know how hard it was for you… I… Remember," he whispered, his words furrowing your brow.

"What do you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I heard your voice the whole time," he whispered, barely moving his lips. "But I couldn't respond. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't move or open my eyes. It felt like hell…"

"Shh, don't think about it now," you whispered, gently stroking his snow-white hair. "You need to rest, love. You've been through so much, your body needs to recover."

Touya tried to turn his head to see his body's condition, but you gently pushed his shoulder, urging him to lie back down. "Take it easy. You've had multiple surgeries, but don't worry. Your body is healing, and that's what matters."

He sighed heavily. "What happened with the war… with Shigaraki… Mom… the others?"

You blinked, surprised by his questions. "The war's over. The heroes won. All For One was defeated for good. Your mom and siblings are okay, they went home weeks ago. Midoriya saved Shigaraki. He's recovering in another hospital."

His lips twitched into a faint smile. "That's… good to hear…"

You gently stroked his shoulder. "This means you get a fresh start. Shoto told me what you said to him… that you didn't want to make it out of the battle alive." Your eyes filled with tears, and you began to cry uncontrollably, your body shaking with sobs. "But God's my witness, I would go through the hell itself for you if it meant saving you! I was so scared!" You let your emotions pour out, unable to hold them back any longer.

Touya watched you cry, his heart heavy. His hand shook slightly as he reached out to touch yours. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered. "I'm genuinely glad to be back. All I thought about in the darkness was you and your beautiful, gentle eyes. I just wanted to see them one last time… And now I can."

You gently rubbed the top of his hand. "And you'll get to see them every day because there's no way you're getting rid of me, Todoroki Touya."

[dumbseee]

watching.

dabi had one weakness, and it was you.

dabi x fem!reader.

warnings: bad english/grammar :p, mention of murder, violence.

genre: angst.

note: i want touya to have a happy ending :( / maybe i’ll do a part two.

_

you met touya in kindergarten, his mother was close to yours and introduced you to him because he was too shy to make friends by himself. you immediately handed out your tiny hand towards him with your biggest smile, while he looked at it with wary eyes. he looked up at his mother who nodded towards you and he grabbed your hand. that sealed your friendship with touya todoroki. ever since, you two were inseparable, always with one another and you still remember his gorgeous smile.

your mother was the one to break the news to you, she sat you down on the couch and muted the tv. you could feel that something was wrong, you saw how red and swollen her eyes were and when she took your hands, you felt her hands tremble slightly. when she told you that touya had passed away in a fire accident, you cried for weeks. you couldn’t sleep at all, your sleep was ruined by nightmares, you could hear touya’s screams, his cries for help. you wished you could’ve helped him, your quirk could’ve been useful since you could control water. but you were just a kid, how were you supposed to help?

years had passed and you still thought about touya, you stil kept the teddy bear he gifted you for your sixth’s birthday and you still hugged it tightly at night. sometimes you’d even talk to the sky, asking him if he had a good day up there or if he was watching over you from heaven. well, little did you know that touya was actually looking after you, but he was way closer to you than you thought.

when touya became dabi, he wanted to forget about his past, his only focus being taking his revenge on his father and destroying the hero society. but you kept popping up in his mind, he couldn’t forget you nor could he ignore the little voice whispering your name in his head. it wasn’t hard for him to find you, even years later, he quickly learned that you graduated on top of your classes, and became the number two’s hero, hawks’s personal assistant. when touya saw that, he laughed, apparently fate wanted these two to meet again. of course, touya needed hawks anyway for his plan, but you being his assistant was a major plus.

when he saw you for the first time in years, his breath got caught up in his throat as he witnessed how you blossomed into a gorgeous and confident woman. touya fell in love with you the minute he first saw you, back in kindergarten, but when he saw you again after so many years of being apart, he fell ten times harder. your hair had grown a little longer, now falling down your waist, your smile was still the prettiest sight he’d ever seen, your eyes still had that light in them, the light he’d been longing for since he left, and your laugh was still his favourite melody. he was completely down for you, he couldn’t stay away from you for too long, he needed to hold you, talk to you, take you. you belonged to him, and he couldn’t stand the fact that anyone could look at you, be close to you, meanwhile he had to hide in the shadows of the night, away from you.

touya followed you back home almost every night, he needed to make sure you made it safely inside your apartment he already broken into, when you were at work. he grinned when he walked into your room, it was so you, pictures of friends or family decorating your walls, painted a light pink while your bed was perfectly made. touya let himself fall on your bed, crossing his arms behind his head while he looked at the ceiling. if he closed his eyes he could hear your laugh, he could imagine a world where you two got to be together and live happily ever after, move in together, get married and have a ton of annoying gremlins running around and calling him dad. touya didn’t even feel the bloody tear that rolled down his scarred cheek. he let a dry laugh leave his lips. he could never have that life and be knew it.

as touya stood up and was ready to leave before you could comeback, he noticed the old teddy bear he gave you when you two were still innocent little kids. his eyes widened at the thought of you still thinking about him, after all these years. maybe you loved him too? maybe you were still looking for him? touya knew his family told the world that their eldest son tragically passed away in a fire, but he knew you couldn’t have fall for this stupid story. you were clever enough to know that he couldn’t have died like that. he couldn’t have left you behind, how could he? lost in his thoughts, touya didn’t even hear the sound of keys and the door opening before closing in a rather loud "thud". that sound made him regain his senses, for a second he considered staying there, in your room, waiting for you to come in and see him. but it wasn’t the right time, he’d comeback, and he’d comeback for you.

when you walked into your room, you frowned when you saw your bed all wrinkled up and your teddy bear on the floor. the faint smell of cigarette, wood and whiskey laying in the air as well. you opened the window but was surprised to see it slightly opened already. have you left it open this morning? you shrugged it off, you left in a hurry so it could’ve been the case. you started to strip away from your clothes, to take a quick shower, while touya landed on his two feet, he looked up at your window and grinned to himself. you never forgot him.

you noticed some strange changes in your life lately, the weird smell you smelt in your room a few weeks ago, kept coming back and you wondered where it could come from. you didn’t smoke so why would your room smell like cigarettes? same goes for alcohol, you never drank even a drop of whiskey, so why would it smell like it? your teddy bear kept moving places, you even considered your apartment being haunted, the idea kinda creeped you out, you hated ghosts. but it couldn’t be that, ghosts didn’t exist and even if they did, dead being couldn’t have a smell. you also had this weird feeling of being watched, no matter where you were, in a crowded room at work, in the subway, even in your room, you felt eyes on you and it scared you shitless. what if you had a stalker? what if a crazy serial killer was after you and you’d end up on those true crime documentaries? you shook your head and laughed at your own paranoia.

you turned around in your bed and smiled softly at your teddy bear, you grabbed it in your hands and lift it in the air. "you must think, i’m going insane hm?" you mumbled, a vague image of touya appeared in your mind, it was an old memory of him when you had scraped your knee pretty badly and touya carried you on his back till you arrived at your house. nobody was there so he went to look for a bandaid and helped you. he stayed with you till your mother came back from grocery shopping, even though it would make his father upset. without noticing it, a single tear rolled down your cheek. you cleared your throat and hugged the teddy bear, tightly against your chest. "i miss you so much, touya." you were curled up on your bed, hugging your last souvenir of touya and cried yourself to sleep. meanwhile, in the league’s hideout, touya is lying down on his bed, a hand behind his head and the other holding his phone. he had hidden a small camera inside the teddy bear when he sneaked into your apartment once. as weird as it sounds, touya only wanted to feel closer to you, hear your voice, you always slept with the teddy bear in your arms, which made him feel like he was actually laying next to you. "i miss you too, doll."

the next day, you came back from work, exhausted and frustrated from the bad day you had thanks to one of your coworkers. you were on the phone with your friend, letting out all your frustration. "seriously what is wrong with him? he always single me out during meetings, talking about how my ideas aren’t that good, how dare he? i’m way above him on the food chain, he tends to forget that a lot." you got into your room, smiled at your teddy bear, an habit you picked up a while ago, you removed your jacket and immediately put it back into your dresser. you put your hair up with a claw clip and sat in front of your vanity, removing your earrings while your friend was agreeing with you. "right? he’s so full of himself and does he think i don’t hear all the disgusting things he says about me to tanaka? this motherfucker really thinks i don’t see him looking under my skirt? ugh! i hate him so much, yuri!" you hummed in response to your friend’s answer, "you’re right, maybe i should tell hawks? he’s so sweet, i’m sure he’d help me out." you quickly ended the call after that, eager to wash yourself and eat before jumping on your sofa to watch your favourite comfort show. what you didn’t know is that a certain unstable fire villain heard everything and would take matters into his own hands before fuckass hawks could do anything.

when you went back to work the next day, something was going on and you felt it the second you walked into the building. one of your coworker quickly grabbed your arm to tell you the news. "terushima is dead!" he went straight to the point and your eyes almost came out your sockets. "he got killed by the villain dabi, you know him right? apparently he recorded the whole thing and poor terushima suffered so much, it was a terrible sight." you couldn’t speak, truly stunned by the news, what were the odds? you basically cursed him out a few hours ago and now he was dead? killed by no one but the infamous dabi? thinking about the villain made you shiver. "and that’s not it! dabi also tortured tanaka to have informations on terushima! he went to him first then went to terushima. tanaka is still at the hospital but apparently he’s alive." you felt nauseous all of a sudden, you took a step back and immediately ran away from your poor coworker, even as he called your name, you ran outside, inhaling fresh air as you felt sweat cover your forehead, your whole body was shaking from shock. you wouldn’t mourn terushima, he was a pain in your ass, and tanaka was nothing but a dirty pig as well. but the fact that you talked about these two men just yesterday and now one was dead and the other was at the hospital. the coincidence was too much for you, you called in sick and went back to your apartment.

you kicked your shoes and immediately went to the fridge to take out a fresh bottle of water, downing it almost entirely. you frowned when you saw a piece of paper sitting on your table. it was a handwritten note, you felt shiver down your spine as you read it.

"they won’t bother you anymore."

you let the note fall on the ground, your legs felt like jello now and you had to grab the counter to steady yourself before you could join the note on the floor. you struggled to breath as you now understood that the call you made yesterday and what happened to terushima and tanaka wasn’t a scary coincidence. the note wasn’t signed but you knew who left it here, dabi. dabi came here, dabi heard you, dabi took revenge for you, dabi knew you. but why would he do that? why would he take a liking to you? how could he even notice you? you were scared now, a villain was after you and you could be his next victim soon. you quickly grabbed your phone and started to dial hawks’s number. he was your boss but also your friend, he’d help you. but as you were about to dial the last digit, you felt a presence behind you. and you remember not closing the door. you swallowed the lump in your throat and slowly turned around, your eyes widened and you let out a small cry as you recognised dabi, in all his glory, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as he stood tall in your living room. he closed the door with his feet and looked at you.

"w-what are y-you doing here?" he came for you, he was going to murder you in your own home. you saw dabi chuckle and you almost fainted when you saw him take a step closer to you. he didn’t answer you, his eyes were weirdly familiar to you, a turquoise blue, same as touya’s. the thought of your old friend made you realise that you’d soon join him in the afterlife and somehow, the thought comforted you. dabi was now in front of you, a few inches separating you two as he looked down at you. "it’s been a while, y/n." his voice was deep, a little hoarse and you saw him smile softly at you. what the? thee dabi smiling? you were dreaming, it had to be a dream! or a nightmare. "i didn’t think you’d keep that old teddy bear for so long, but i’m glad that you did." and it hit you, almost instantly as the words left his mouth, you realised.

touya todoroki was in front of you. your touya.

silent tears immediately started to roll down your cheeks as you looked at his pretty eyes, his gorgeous turquoise orbs you so often thought about how nice it would feel to drown in them. silence fell upon you as your mind was spinning, you felt your legs give up on you and dabi was quick to grab you, both of his hands on your waist, yours pressed on his chest as you were still lost in your thoughts. you let a hand slowly stroke his cheek and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of relief. you quickly removed your hand, which made him frown. "t-touya?" your voice broke at the end of his name. "it’s me, y/n. i never left." now you were nothing but a sobbing mess, you didn’t know how to handle this. your touya was standing in front of you and you didn’t know how to take it. touya didn’t come back as the joyful and cheeky kid, he came back as a demon called dabi.

"you’re not my touya." you mumbled, pushing him away from you, you moved away so you were now giving your back to the door, just in case you had to run. touya felt his heart explode at your words. "how- how could you do this? what happened to you? what happened to the kid i used to know? this isn’t you. it can’t be!" you yelled, years blurring your vision, but you angrily wiped them away. of course, you weren’t aware of the trauma touya had to go through. "i can explain everything." he simply said, taking a step closer to you, this time you didn’t move away. "you can explain what? killing dozens of innocents? joining the league of villains? you’re literally one of the main instigator of this fucking league!" you pushed his chest, clearly still angry and touya couldn’t hold that against you. he just wanted to hold you, soothe you, tell you that everything would be fine. but touya couldn’t do that, because he didn’t know how to do that, he didn’t know how to react in these type of situations, no one ever comforted him, beside you. which explain the insane amount of patience he had right now, he knew he wouldn’t hurt you, he would never forgive himself if he did.

"i want you to leave." you said, looking up at him, eyes full of rage but also sadness. you were devastated, you dreamed of this moment, you never really believed that touya died in that fire. you always felt like he was still out there, doing god knows what, well you were right, but at what cost? touya felt anger and frustration build up inside of him, he wanted to yell at you, tell you that he had no choice, he had to continue with his plan, he had to take revenge, he had to. "not before you listen to me, then i’ll leave." you crossed your arms against your chest and gave hime the sign to continue. "the number one hero, endeavor." just saying his name made him want to burn this whole place, but you were here. touya took a deep breath and all of a sudden, he was back in kindergarten, in front of a pouty y/n who was waiting for an explanation as to why touya had broken your favourite doll. the memory almost made him smile, but now he was in front of a y/n that despised him and his actions, your beautiful eyes lacked their usual light, you threw daggers at him and he felt them stab his already broken heart. "you know what," he lift his hands up as surrender and headed towards the door. "you should take a day off tomorrow and watch the news." he smiled at you before leaving your apartment.

you couldn’t believe it, the moment he closed the door, you fell on the ground. bawling your eyes out, your heart yelled at you for not hugging him, not telling him how much you missed him, how hard you prayed for this day to happen. but your brain praised you for doing the right thing. touya did died in that fire, dabi was what remains. and dabi wasn’t your friend.

[touyazbbygirl]

A whisper in the wind.

God I have my father's eyes.

Dabi (touya) x Reader part 2

Angst no comfort. A/N: how I think the last conversation he would have with his partner before confronting everyone not proof read at all either. I was crying through this. He always hurts my feeling when I think about him. He deserved so much better I <3 him

**WILL HAVE SPOILERS READ AT YOUR DIGRESSION.**

Eyes widened seeing Dabi, your boyfriend on the tv. Hearing his voice echo in the room hearing him telling the whole nation who he was. Finding out in real time as everyone else. What a secret he kept. 

Hearing his combat boots thunk against the concrete as he stepped inside. You head whipped to the door. Standing up as your fingers danced across the controller to shut off the tv. Coming up to him he looked down at you, his hair different, his scaring spreading more. 

You knew what he was doing to himself. You knew how this was going to end. Tears pricked the back of your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Fingers digging into the leather of his jacket, the warmth of his body filled yours. 

"you kept this.. from me.. why?" You peered up at him with a teary expression tilting your head in curiosity. Dabi sighed softly before pulling you closer to his chest, resting his chin upon you head, "I just wanted to keep you safe, keep you away from my past. I didn't want you to think of me differently or try to save me from the past or try to get me to make up with them" 

Hearing his reasoning didn't make it any better, just confirming what his plans were. Taking in a shaky breath as you nod, biting your lip as closed your eyes to keep the tears at bay. "I.. I get that Dabi. I do, but.. I don't want you to die" the words fell from your lips, faster than you could catch them. The air hung heavily on his shoulders. 

His hand came to cup your cheek as he took a deep inhale, feeling you lean into his touch, his expression mirrored your own. "I know." He spoke gently. "I just want him to see me. I want him to watch me. The look on his face, to see him fall apart-" he was cut off by a sob feeling your shoulders shake "you're falling apart. look at you, you're falling apart right in front of me and there's nothing I can do! don't.. don't you dare Touya" You used his given name, something in him broke. 

Red built along his lash line as you reached up to cup his cheek. “Dont you see youre hurting yourself? You dont hate them, I dont think thats the case at all Touya. I really dont. I think youre hurting because you were promised so much. You were promised to be a hero and you got casted aside because of your baby brother.” Touya couldnt help but to think back on his past. How his father got mad at him begging him to stop using his fire as his body couldnt keep up with the usage of it. It was burning him alive. He knew that. “I dont.. Want to watch you just die on me. Please.. I cant fix your past. It will never change your past, I know that. I love you, Im watching you, Im seeing you, my eyes are always on you Touya.” You whispered softly. 

Touya felt his breath hitch as he pulled you into his chest once more, feeling his frame shake in your arms. Why did it take this long for him to have been seen? If it was this easy, why did it take so long? “I cant.. heal you. I cant take away your pain or suffering. I dont want it to be too late and I never get to hear your voice call my name again, or feel your warmth wrapped aroun me when I need you the most. When Im scared and youre trying to keep me calm and collected. When Ive had a nightmare and you whisper how Im safe and loved. I cant do this without you Touya. I love you as you are, not who you were.”  Your own voice was filled with emotions, watery and wavering.  

“I know I know I love you. So much. Always remember that. Never forget it.” His voice light as a feather a whisper in the wind. 

Sometime after this conversation you sat in the same spot on the couch, watching as everything began to fold. Hearing the pain in his voice as he confronted his baby brother; Shoto. They were watching. We were all watching. Panic raising in your chest as you watched, there he was, everyone was watching him. All eyes on him, His family eyes were on him. His body giving out on him as each minute passed. Knees buckling under you seeing him on the ground, burnt, having lost an arm. Sobs wreaked your body, gripping, clutching onto his jacket that he left to you. You should've known then that was the last time you would see him.

And all you had left was a whisper in the wind. A faint sound of your name, carrying his voice to you one last time.

------

Another a.n: Im sobbing, I'm sorry for hurting your feeling.

[hanrinz]

dabi likes walking with you everywhere.

may it be a trip down to the convenience store at the dead of the night, or just a stroll around the neighborhood, or maybe when you would drag him to watch the stars you have always been the one to appreciate little things in life.

everywhere you went, he would be there beside you, keeping you company and he doesn't mind not even the least.

so when you crawled onto his bed asking him to just walk with you in the park down the street, he agrees. no protests left his lips just him rising out of the comfort of his sheets, taking your hands intertwining with his, bringing it close to him and placing a small kiss on it, a small gesture he does everytime he holds your hand. tugging you along the way, just encouraging you that it's fine, that he wouldn't get mad at you for something so simple like this.

you needed him didn't you? there's nothing to be worried about. he likes the thought that his presence could bring comfort to you.

he would keep you warm all night, arms around you, letting you bury your head on his chest, hearing the calm rhythm of his heart beat as you whisper apologies for waking him up in the middle of the night. how you're sorry for bothering him so late and he would kiss the top of your head halting you from speaking such words to him.

because dabi would do anything for you. he'll do anything to stay by your side, just so he could keep holding your hands. he's afraid, he's so fucking terrified, one day you'll walk and he wouldn't be there to stand by your side.

dabi will always walk with you wherever you go, just continue to embrace him and he'll give all of himself to you.

notes: a little writing for dabi, i miss him sm </3 this is inspired by hold me tight! likes & reblogs are highly appreciated!

[stxrrydreamss]

Aizawa/Hawks/Dabi/Bakugo

They find out you were in a car accident.

Part 1, Part 2

Authors note: I’m taking a little break from writing Kilonova to work on some other stories for fun. I got this idea from driving on the highway in the rain and I ended up hydroplaning a few time. Thankfully no cars were around me. This took me a few days to write, so I hope you all enjoy! I even made the gifs myself :)

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩.

It was late and dark as I made my way home. Heavy raindrops began to pelt at my window and gradually increased in speed and size until, eventually, I had to hit my brakes due to being unable to see ahead of me. As I brake, I feel my car lose traction and start to hydroplane. I tried to stop my car from spinning by pumping my breaks and turning in the opposite direction before a black SUV that was unable to see in the heavy rain slammed into the back end of my car and turned away before another vehicle that was also unable to see hit me head-on, I brace for impact as my car flips, and I lose consciousness upon landing.

Aizawa

Shouta was finishing his shift when he received a call to respond to a three car accident nearby. Shouta accepts the job and hastily makes his way over. He had faintly heard the crash about ten minutes prior, and despite most of the sound having been drowned out by the rain, it still sounded nasty. He didn't expect to see your car amongst one of the few involved in the accident. The SUV had pulled over further down the street, and the vehicle's front end was destroyed; the other car, the red sedan that hitthe front end of your car, was totaled as the front end was missing, and the sides were scraped from flipping over onto its side and sliding.

Both drivers were okay with minimal injuries. You, on the other hand, were finally being pulled from the wreckage of your car with no status as of yet to your condition. There was debris from your vehicle scattered all across the road. The roof was caved in, the front end was smashed and caved in where the sedan had crashed, and the back end was caved in as well from where the SUV had struck your car. He stood in shock and covered his mouth to prevent himself from crying in front of all these people working hard in the pouring rain to help those involved in the accident.

He couldn't let his emotions out right now. He needed to do his job. He quickly gathered intel from the paramedics, who explained that the black SUV reportedly saw them hydroplane but failed to avoid their car. The one in the red sedan had been speeding under the influence and had also failed to prevent their vehicle from crashing into them. Upon hearing about the red sedan, Shouta was furious, but he needed to know if you were okay. Shouta left the plice and paramedics to do their job with investigating and tending to the two involved in the accident as he made his way towards you.

Shouta swore he stopped breathing upon finally seeing the wreckage of your car up close. Blood was all over the airbags and seats, the door had been pried open with the jaws of life, and he grimaced at the sight of one of your teeth sitting in a puddle of blood on the car's roof. The ambulance that had you rushed off a while ago. He had no idea if you were dead or alive, which scared him beyond belief. All sense of reasoning was out the window as he continued staring at the wreckage. They wouldn't take a deceased body to the hospital. Would they? Shouta snaps back to reality upon hearing an officer calling out to him once more. He blinks a few times and turns to the officer to begin exchanging information and to finish handling the situation as soon as he can so he can rush to the hospital.

Hawks

Keigo had finally arrived home after a long shift. He shook the water from his wings before entering your shared house. Keigo looks around the house for any sign of you, only to see you haven’t arrived home yet. He wasn’t worried. You were probably stuck in traffic with all this rain.

Keigo yawns as he stretches his hands before heading towards the bedroom. He places his headset and glasses on the dresser beside his bed before grabbing a pair of clothes and heading toward the bathroom. He turns on the shower before stripping himself of his soaked uniform and jacket and stepping into the shower. Keigo sighs, and his feathers puff up from a shiver running down his spine due to the contrast of the warm water against his cold skin. He relishes the newfound warmth and relief as he rubs at the sore parts of his body before finally deciding to wash.

Keigo grabs the bottle of shampoo when he hears his phone go off. He ignores it while leaving a mental note to check out who it is after he gets out. He begins washing his hair, and as he finishes rinsing his hair out, his phone rings again. He ignores it again while continuing to shower. Once he’s done, he steps out and grabs a towel.

As Keigo begins drying himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist, he grabs another towel beneath the one he had just held and begins to dry his hair. Keigo then proceeds to grabs his phone from the bathroom and returns to your shared bedroom. He unlocks the phone and plays the voicemail left by the person who had called him before putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the bed before standing back up to finish drying off and putting his sleepwear on.

“Hello. This is Yuriko Harusa calling from the hospital regarding your fiancé (Y/n) (L/n)-“ Keigo freezes upon hearing those words and rushes back over to his phone, running his fingers through his hair to moves his bangs from his face as he does so. “(Y/n) was involved in a car accident and is here with us in surgery. We would appreciate it if you could come down to the hospital to provide some information so the doctor can speak to you about further procedures-“ Keigo hung up the phone before the voicemail could finish. He was running to grab his keys from the nightstand and rushing out to his car.

Dabi

Dabi had been waiting patiently in your screened-in back patio to get home. He was falling asleep in your swinging chair, cuddled up in the throw blanket you left folded neatly on the seat, half asleep from watching the rain fall and the waterfall from the gutters fall to the ground in an odd melodic tune. He looks down at his burner for the time, and his eyes narrow at the number isolated across the screen. 10:42 P.M., it read. It would have been nice if you were here an hour ago. Dabi’s cyan eyes grow dark.

What could’ve happened to you? Did a villain get you? Did a hero catch on and take you in for questioning? His big question was whether or not you were okay. With that, he stands up from the swinging chair on the patio, folds the blanket before placing it back on the seat, and pulls his hood up before exiting the enclosure and into the pouring rain.

Dabi pouted angrily as he walked down the street towards the road you took home from work, now soaked from the pelting rain. Dabi had been walking for a good half an hour before he froze upon turning the corner and quickly hid back behind the wall of the building he had just turned around. The police lights caught him off guard. He slowly peeks around the corner to see if the coast is clear, but his eyes rest on the tow truck hauling your car away. The vehicle was ultimately destroyed among the other two cars on the lift.

Dabi’s eyes widened in shock, and he felt the urge to throw up from the sudden rush of emotions from his chest. You were not okay. He should’ve just ignored you and waited outside of the building you worked at so that he could’ve been there for you. No. Thankfully, he wasn’t in the car because then things would have been a lot worse.

If he would’ve been in there, your relationship could’ve been compromised, and both of you would have had to face the law. He’d instead you be injured than you facing a life behind bars because of his foolishness. You didn’t deserve that. Dabi’s skin hisses as his quirk activates due to his overwhelming anger, worry, and despair he was in. You were fine, right? You were just roughed up. You’ll be home soon.

One of the officers turns his head upon hearing the odd sound of hissing and begins walking in the direction of the noise. The officer sees a black figure disappear behind the corner of the building and he quickly reaches for his pistol before bolting. As the officer turns the corner, there’s nobody there. He looks around, confused, and looks down to put his gun away before stopping upon seeing a single drop of blood on the concrete being washed away.

Bakugo

Bakugo had been handling a few villains with strong quirks, one of which could control vehicles. The other two had already been apprehended, so all that was left was this villain before him. As he went to blind him with a blast so Izuku could successfully capture him, he heard a screech and a crashing noise.

“Shit!” He yelled as he finally blinded the enemy so Izuku could use black whip to restrain him.

“Could you please check on the civilians!” he yelled as he had his hands tied with the villains. Izuku then dialed for backup to escort the villains to jail and for some ambulances to tend to the injured.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm on it.” He yelled before blasting off towards the direction he heard the crashes. He stops at a black SUV first, ensuring the family inside we're okay. He rushes over to the man in the red sedan, who is dazed, but seems fine besides a possible concussion. Katsuki was not ready to see your car in the wreckage.

“Baby! Hey!” He shouts as he sprints as fast as he can to the car. It was flipped, and you were hanging upside down in your seat, unconscious. He quickly assesses the situation before pressing a hand to his headset to relay the situation to Izuku. “There were three cars. A black SUV with a family who seems alright, a red sedan with a man possibly with a concussion, and (Y/n) is unconscious among the wreckage of her vehicle.” He shouts quickly.

“Is she okay?” Izuku asks through the speaker.

“She better be fucking okay. Otherwise, I will handle that villain myself. ” Katsuki growls through his headset. He hoped that damn villain would get life in prison, at least. He didn't want to see that villain's face again; otherwise, he'd be a bloody mess of a pulp.

“I'll handle the rest once these villains are arrested and taken away. You can go with her to the hospital.” Izuku replies.

“Hey, come on, baby!” Katsuki cries out as he reaches through the shattered glass to unlock the door and gently unbuckle your seatbelt, catching you in the process. You were cold. “Shit.” He says in shock. He quickly carries you beneath the awning of a building before placing you down on your back and checking for a pulse. You didn't have one.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Katsuki yells out. Tears are now brimming in his shocked eyes, but he tries not to let them fall. “She doesn't have a pulse!” He yells through his headset as police sirens break the sound of the rain. He immediately starts CPR.

Katsuki’s hands are crossed onto your chest as he begins pumping it before pulling away and breathing into your mouth, repeating the cycle. “Come on. Come on!” He yells while pumping your chest again desperately before moving to start blowing into your mouth again. His heart is racing in fear. He didn't want to lose you. You didn't deserve this. You can't die like this. If only he were faster, you would have been fine. Katsuki didn't know how long he had been repeating the process and when he had started pleading and crying. It was a blur. The ambulance was taking you away. Izuku was ripping him away from you. Izuku was restraining him with black whip as he desperately tried to get to you. It was all blurred in his memory as he now sat in the living room of Kirishima’s house.

Kirishima sat with his legs spread and hands clasped between them, leaning forward as he watched Katsuki. Beside Kirishima was Izuku. Izuku was sitting similarly to Kirishima; only his l hands held his head in exasperation. Katsuki was catatonically sitting across from them on the couch. His eyes narrow and dark, staring at the floor. Izuku had brought Katsuki over to Kirishima's house to get him to calm down and de-escalate the situation.

Kirishima had hurriedly let them into his house and gave the two boys towels to dry off in. Izuku wasted no time drying off, but Katsuki ignored him and instead plopped himself down on the couch where he remained, not moving a centimeter. All he could think about was whether you would ever be home in his arms again.

[zeke-best]

He really is the hero of this family…

[rishiguro]

BUSY THINKING ABOUT BOYFRIEND!DABI

a/n: more dabi.

boyfriend!dabi who never wanted to be so close to someone, yet found himself being drawn towards you from the moment you met, no matter how hard he tried to resist it.

boyfriend!dabi who loved to tease you from day one, finding it extremely attractive when you roll your eyes at him and turn away, unable to hide the smile on your face.

boyfriend!dabi who practically moved in with you, but not really - he himself however doesn't have a place so he always stays at yours.

boyfriend!dabi who wouldn't even dream of ever introducing you to the league, wanting to keep this side of his life as far away as possible from you.

boyfriend!dabi who gets more and more afraid the more time passes because he starts to share every part of him with you - even those which he told himself died a long time ago.

boyfriend!dabi who sometimes disappears for weeks without notice, always leaving you worried sick.

boyfriend!dabi who then shows up randomly one night with a slight smirk on his lips as he greets you so casually like he was never gone in the first place.

boyfriend!dabi who feels heartbroken when he watches you sleep next to him, seeing how you clutch against him, afraid that he'll disappear again.

boyfriend!dabi who can't believe that someone like you could truly love someone like him, deeply afraid that the warmth he feels with you is nothing but an illusion.

boyfriend!dabi who would never bring this up, not wanting to destroy the safe place he got with you - even if that place was fake.

boyfriend!dabi who slowly starts to realize that you do love him in the smallest of things; the faint blush on your cheeks when he teases you, the way your eyes light up when he enters the room and how you cling to him when you're asleep because surely nobody could fake that.

boyfriend!dabi who loves it when you run your fingers over his scars, instinctively closing his eyes whenever you do it.

boyfriend!dabi who keeps telling himself that he should push you away, but his heart aches every time he thinks about that.

boyfriend!dabi who hasn't had a home for most of his life and would give everything to protect the one he found with you.

reblog for more dabi content

[thehusbandoden]

Burnt -Dabi x Reader

A/n: felt angsty lol. I'll write an alternative ending or maybe a second part soon~! <3

General info:

Genre: pure angst \\ wc: 1,224 \\ posted: 01/03/2024

Summary: you gave the love of your life too many chances already. But this time? He crossed a line.. a line that should have never been crossed.

Warnings!: pure angst, no happy ending, spoilers of Dabi's backstory, Dabi's real name, arguing, toxicity, crying, mention of blood, suggested abusive childhood, trauma, gaslighting, manipulating, being badly insulted, being unable to apologize, flinching, being physically harmed, break up, shame, guilt, annd I think that's it! Pls let me know if I miss anything! <33

Alternative Ending- More Than Life Itself (Dw he doesn't get away with it, but it's fluff/comfort!)

Hurt coursed through your being as you glared at your beloved, biting your lip in pent up anger. “Why can’t you just trust me?! I’m not going to hurt you Touya!”  

“Do not call me Touya.” He growled, his hands clenching into fists. “You’ve done nothing but use me. All you ever care about is yourself, you’re a lazy, selfish, manipulative, and flat-out disgusting woman.”  

You open your mouth to retort, but quickly close it, shocked at his words. You only want him to be happy. All you do is provide love, support, shelter, and safety for him. You haven’t left him no matter how many times he’s insulted, manipulated, or gaslit you.  

You gave him shelter in your own home, no matter the risks of police, heroes, or other villains. You sat there as he yelled at you, insulted you, and belittled you.  

But... this? 

This was too far.  

“Do you mean all that?” You murmur, your eyes lowering to the floor. Your lip started to tremble.  

Dabi sneered. “Yes. Every single bit of it.” His turquoise eyes were filled with pure hatred.  

“Then just leave me.” You murmur, your hands shaking.  

“What did you say?” Dabi scoffed.  

“If I’m such a terrible person, just leave me and find someone better.” You spit, your e/c orbs filling with tears.  

“Are you really crying? Pathetic. Maybe I will... I’ll find someone who’s a lot better. She’ll be gorgeous, loving, selfless, and best of all- completely opposite of you.” Dabi snickered, pulling his black combat boots on.  

You don’t say anything. A few tears strayed down your face. Dabi scoffed. “Good.” You whisper. 

Rolling his eyes, Dabi pulls on his long leather jacket and his large backpack stored with all his belongings. He came home only a few hours ago... you tried to tell yourself to stay quiet, but you couldn’t help it... 

“Did you ever even love me?” You whisper, a few more tears joining the first.  

Dabi paused, his turquoise orbs moving to the floor. He doesn’t say anything, hardly even breathing. Silence envelops the two of you for a few moments before he speaks. “I... don’t love anything. Or anyone.”  

More tears fell.  

“So what? I was just- a- a game?” Your voice shook. Your control began to tremble.  

“You were something to pass time.” He muttered, running a large hand through his black hair. “Nothing more.”  

A choked sob broke through your lips. “Nothing? Nothing else at all?”  

“Yes. You were nothing but a stress relief.”  

A second sob followed the first. You could have sworn you saw Dabi’s sneer falter for a mere second.  

“What? Did you really think I could love someone like you?!”  

“Just go. I would wish you misery-” your voice cracks, “-but you’re already cursed. You break whomever and whatever is around you. You destroyed us and you destroyed your fam-" -a loud smack echoed across the room. Everything but you and Dabi’s heavy breathing were heard.  

You stared at the floor, your cheek burning. You couldn’t believe that the man you once loved and trusted could ever do something like this... he was not only cursed- but a liar at that.   

Biting your lip, your tearful eyes meet Dabi’s cold ones. No one other than you wouldn’t be able to tell how he was truly feeling. But you knew that his eyes were full of regret, guilt, and shame. But he wouldn’t apologize. He never would.  

“Get out.” You whisper, clenching your hands into fists. Dabi’s mouth opened ever so slightly.  

“What did you say?” He asked softly.  

“I said get out.” You demand. Tears fell down your face, making your cheek sting further. You silently cursed at your vulnerability.  

“Oh, come on y/n- it wasn’t that big of a deal.” Dabi protested, reaching out to hold you. He was gaslighting you. Again.  

“No! It was that bad! You didn’t only slap me Dabi, you burned me.” Dabi froze, your words finally pulling himself out of his delusional state. His eyes widened as he eyed your bruising cheek- it was not only bruising but burned.  

His face fell in horror. He subconsciously reached his hand to your cheek. You flinch, and he slowly falls apart.  

“Y-y/n- I-I...”  

“Get out. Now.” Your gorgeous e/c orbs hardened in rage, and he finally realized how serious you were.  

“O-okay... I’ll go.” He murmured, moving his heartbroken orbs to the floor. “I don’t want to see you again. Ever.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.  

“E-ever?”  

“Ever. You crossed a line, Dabi.”  

Dabi froze as he heard you call him his villain's name... you always called him Touya... you were serious. He yearned to apologize, to hold you in his arms as he coos at you, to fix everything he ruined.  

His body jerked forward, but he didn’t budge. Opening his mouth, he inwardly screamed at himself to just- do it. The words were at the tip of his tongue. 

Memories of his childhood flashed before his eyes- the screaming, the insults, the endless apologies left ignored, or even punished. Something inside him snapped and he just- broke.  

“Good. I’m glad. I’ll be much better without your pathetic self weighing me down.” He sneered, pushing you aside, sending you scrawling to the floor. “You’re pathetic. Did you think that I loved you?!”  

Another sob broke from your lips. “Out.” 

“Y’know what? Why should I? You get out. I’m staying.”  

“I pay for this apartment Dabi! I buy the groceries, pay the bills, buy the furniture, pay for the repairs- this is my place!”  

“And I’m going to stay. Now either shut up and deal or leave.” Dabi growled. You glared at the man, your fingernails digging into your palms.  

“Dabi- leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome. Not only have you physically harmed me- whom you swore to protect, but you’ve insulted, belittled, and totally disrespected me. I want you out of my apartment by-” you were interrupted by Dabi tightly grabbing your arms, his flames burning into your flesh. Hissing in pain, you push Dabi to the ground. He lets out a loud curse before shooting back up to his feet, glaring at you. His hardened eyes involuntarily softened as he met your teary eyes. His heart stung as he watched you fall into yourself, sobbing.  

Dabi kneeled to the floor, trying to make eye contact with you. “Listen y/n... I-”  

“Leave! Go! I don’t want you or your apology! Leave or I will!” You sob, gripping onto your shirt tightly.  

Dabi’s cold, broken, and at most times invisible heart- shattered.  

He did this to you. He was a monster... he was just like Endeavor.  

Nodding, Dabi stood up. He turned away, walking towards the door. He glanced at you once more before walking out. He could hear your sobs as he closed your front door. He clenched his hands into fists. After a few moments of listening to your wails of betrayal, lost, and hurt, he couldn’t take it anymore.  

He threw a punch to his cheek, cursing himself out as he walked away. Blood streamed from his eyes; his burnt tear ducts burning in agony as his body attempted to cry. 

He insulted you.  

He lied to you.  

He broke you.  

He burnt you.  

And the worst part? 

There was nothing he could do to fix it. 

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Alternative Ending- More Than Life Itself (Dw he doesn't get away with it, but it's fluff/comfort!)

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