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#dabi x reader
deartouya · 2 days ago
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featuring. dabi, bakugou katsuki, aizawa shota, keigo takami + todoroki shoto.
warnings: none.
note: if you can’t tell i’m very touch starved, but i’m pretty sure i make it very obvious lmaooo </3
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✞ DABI he’d gotten back home pretty late after a mission and you hear him sigh before he enters the bedroom, eyes noticeably heavy with exhaustion but they look a little brighter when they meet yours as you lay in bed, the side of his lips upturning softly. he freezes when you shoot him a soft smile, opening up the blanket that was previously wrapped around you before motioning for him to climb in when he raises a brow in response— following it up quickly with a raspy laugh before he shrugs off his coat, allowing himself to climb in next to you, almost lifting you onto his chest. “miss me, doll?” dabi drawls, a lazy smirk on his lips as he narrows his eyes at you teasingly, a more lighthearted chuckle leaving his lips when you roll your eyes at him in response, but you relax when you feel his fingers begin to trace their way up your sides soothingly. feeling him place an almost uncharacteristically gentle peck against your temple when you feel yourself dozing off against the warmth of his chest, his next words a reassuring whisper against your skin “good. i’m not going anywhere, those bastards can’t kill me that easily.”
✞ BAKUGOU you could tell he’d had a bad day when you heard the door close, the sound of his bag hitting the floor before he trudged into the room where you were cuddled up on the couch with a blanket. his brows are furrowed, eyes flickering to you momentarily and the sight alone has his features softening slightly “katsuki?” you call for him, but he only offers a low grunt in response as he scratches at his head tiredly, mumbling something about “fucking nerds, can’t do shit right—“ but his rant is cut off when he notices you open up the blanket for him, looking at him softly. bakugou tsks as his lips form a small pout before he approaches you on the couch, climbing in beside you and pulling you into his arms immediately— burying his face into the crook of your neck with a sigh. he immediately relaxes when you move to run your fingers through his hair, a weakness that only you knew as you feel him grumble out something like “dumbass” against your skin, but when he follows it with a soft kiss you know he means to tell you he loves you, and you allow yourself to melt into his embrace when you hear his breathing soften as he dozes off.
✞ AIZAWA he’d been busy grading papers all day at the tablet while you sat on the couch across the room wrapped in a blanket, watching the way he tiredly rubbed at his eyes, his hair pulled back into a messy ponytail before he gets up to make another cup of coffee. but you decide to cut his journey short when you call him instead, before making a show out of opening the blanket, patting the space next to you. you watch him blink lazily at you as he processes how inviting being cuddled up with you looked right now— maybe he deserved a break. “i suppose i am tired.” he hums, padding over to you with a soft smile on his face before he all but falls in beside you— his eyes closing briefly as he sighs, looking at you after with another gentle grin when you cuddle into his side. “you did this, you have to get me up after. i mean it.” shota groans, pulling you closer to him when you only offer a giggle in return to his words, the sound alone immediately helping him to finally relax.
✞ HAWKS “babe? i’m baaack” hawks calls as he returns home, expecting you to be waiting for him at the door but he raises a brow when you’re not there, immediately making his way deeper into the house until he finds you curled up in bed with a grin. “what? no welcome home kiss? you’re killing me, baby.” keigo asks, feigning hurt as he clutches his chest but the handsome smirk on his lips only highlights his teasing tone before he chuckles airily. his eyes widen when you don’t reply, only opening up the blanket with a laugh of your own— and you watch him soften immediately. “that’s more like it.” he breathes, wiggling a brow before crawling into bed with you— but instead of laying next to you he chooses to lean over you instead, propping himself up with his forearms “come on, babe. you still owe me a welcome home kiss.” you’d have rolled your eyes if he didn’t look so handsome when his features were laced with sleep— his golden eyes narrowing before focusing on your lips, eventually leaning down to meet them with his own “there we go, birdie. was that so hard?” “you’re so annoying.” “heh, yeah—but you love me, right?” he giggles, yes you do.
✞ TODOROKI “i’m home, fuyumi gave me leftovers.” todoroki calls softly, as he makes his way into the living room to see you watching a movie, the sight alone causing a small smile to creep onto his face. “did you have a good time?” you ask, sitting up slowly as shoto approaches you, sitting on the other side of the couch before resting his hand on your calf over the blankets next to him as he nods “i wish you could’ve came.” the smooth tone of his voice has you melting before you open up the blanket to try and guide him in, giving him a knowing smile— only to be met with a little blank look in return as he stands again “are you hot? i can open the window.” he’s trying his best okay. you giggle a little as he gazes at you, waiting for your response and still a little confused while you shake the blanket “no, sho! get in.” you say giddily, watching him rub the back of his neck before gently sliding in next to you, being careful to make sure he doesn’t crush you in the process “you could’ve just asked normally.” “yeah i know but you’re too cute.” and your sudden compliment has him pulling you a little closer, a blush dusting his features. 
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th0tfairy · 2 days ago
Hello🐛 can I have some headcanons of some of the MHA/BNHA boys with a fem!S/O that has teeth like Kirishima?
you can do whatever with this I just wanna see because I like the way you write :D. It could be her giving head and [character name] being scared she'll use a little teeth or maybe she bites when she cums 🤷🏿‍♀️👀
other details- established relationship, you pick the characters, non-hero!AU
only if you're comfortable and if requests are open :)
remember to drink water and eat daily, darling <3
Aw that’s kinda cute
Deku : def likes pain so I think he’s encourage u to bite him and esp loves it when you’re sucking on his thumb and give it a bite
Shouto: he likes how u tease him but never actually bite too hard. Doesn’t let u near his dick tho
Bakugou: loves it when u get rough like that. Fists his hand thru ur hair while u suck him off until u bite him so he can pull u off
Kirishima: I think he’s just happy to find someone like him and tetsutetsu that he just rubs his finger thru the spiky crowns of ur teeth in awe
Kaminari: likes a lil bite while ur kissing but he’s prone to bleeding so u don’t bite too hard
Sero: he has very blunt teeth so he’s fascinated by yours and kinda scared of them so he just slightly let’s u glide your teeth around him
Shinsou: thinks it’s cute when u nip him while ur going down on him.
Hawks: only lets u bite him if he can bite u back
Dabi: makes u leave bite marks all over him and shows his hickeys off on his OF
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kentoangel · a day ago
。˚ ✩ warnings. smut, afab reader
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dabi, even if it sounds odd, likes it when you’re selfish as you’re riding his dick. he likes — scratch that — loves the way you chase your own climax as he’s laying with his hands behind his head, eyes full of stars because you look so pretty gripping his sides, breasts bouncing uncontrollably (an extremely delightful sight for his sore eyes and his sore eyes only), eyes rolling to the back of your head. you’re sputtering nonsense, his name, how his cock feels so fucking good. before you know it, you’ve orgasmed and dabi has flipped you over to clean up your pretty mess, declaring it’s only right and fair — something you can agree with, since his pierced tongue feels like paradise against your folds. he’s the meaning of pleasure, he’s the one who makes you cum day and night, makes you moan his name like no other.
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themisslili · a day ago
When u r a multifandom simp 😶
Guys, what's your 2D husbandos? Tell me... I'm gonna let one in white for u put the ones that you are married with
Im gonna start with...
@dracul-vadomni @jnnibot @sassysaxsolo @justheretoaskandread @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main
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cybersvoid · a day ago
I just wanna say, hi Big fan of your Big brother series, but well just wondering if he gets more posessive of his sibling if they were his twin?
Also hope your day/night goes well
Referencing: Big Brother
Love you anon <3
Protecting Baby!Y/N is easy. You're so innocent and trusting that his word is practically god to you. You believe anything he tells you because you have no reason to doubt it. Twin!Y/N would be a bit different.
Growing up, it was clear that your brother adored you. Even as a baby the two of you had to share a crib, because he would only sleep with your hand in his, otherwise, he would be up all night crying. He would give you any toy he saw your eyes fall on, and was more than happy to share his dessert after dinner. Anything just to see you smile.
When the two of you started going to school for the first time, you had to walk all the way there hand in hand, in your uniforms. He wouldn't hear of any protests. He hated seeing you play with anyone that wasn't him, and got scolded a lot for hitting other kids he deemed as a bother to you. One kid took your blocks away when you and Touya were playing, and it ended with the teachers trying to pry him off of the poor kid.
As you got older, much to his dislike, you also started to become a lot more independent. You liked your space, and would find any reason just to get a break from him. But no matter what you did, joining a club, a sport, or other extracurricular activities, it didn't matter, because he would be right behind you. It was even hard to make friends with him around. You noticed people started avoiding you more and more. If a person talked to you one day, the next they would act as if you were a complete stranger.
You started to feel lonely, and saw it as kind of foolish to distance yourself from your brother since he was basically the only person who talked to you in school.
So basically, I don't feel like he'll be more possessive, I just think he'll have to put in more work to keep you safe.
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alani-r · 2 days ago
For your event can I plz have Aizawa, dabi and Shigaraki plz and if it’s ok reader is fine with them being yandere
I look similar to this
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My pronouns are she/her and I’m a 20 year old autistic Latina. My hobbies include sewing, reading, sleeping, customizing MH/EAH dolls, eating, organizing, I used to take archery and horse riding lessons, I speak English, my Spanish is rusty and a tiny bit of French .
I’m near sighted ,I can still see without my glasses except everything’s kind of blurry and not detailed. 
My favorite colors are black,purple and silver .
I have a high pain tolerance , I love horror and adore the dark and macabre.
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#2 Yandere Soulmates: Aizawa, Dabi and Shigaraki x Reader
400 Followers Event - Yandere MHA Characters Soulmates AU
Note: Sorry I spent so much time, three soulmates are a bit difficult>.< If you like it please let me know!
TW: yandere, stalking, breeding, nsfw description, mentioned kidnapping and punishment
The form that connects the four of you
As long as you open your palm, you can see a small timer slowly emerge, but there are three times in it. Each is flowing with instability and different units of time. Even the doctor doesn't know what that means... three times? Doesn't it mean there are three?
Others say that you are fortunate. You will definitely meet them.
Others asked if there are really three, what do you do?
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Where did you meet your soulmates
At that time, he was hunting down a criminal, and you were immersed in your hobbies, thinking about what to do next.
At the same time, the glass in the restaurant was broken, and the villain's attack spread to the restaurant. The people screamed, and Erasure Hero caught all the glass shards and villains in time with the binding cloth.
Suddenly, your timer rang, and the melodious music was the same as the one by the hero.
He used at least 42 other people's Quirks to find you. His is not a countdown, but just a tiny mark. Such a desperate, slim possibility, but in the end, he still found you.
Oh, strictly speaking, when you two met for the first time, you were sleeping.
He has to find the perfect occasion to meet you, for example, when you are on the street.
He is not keen on the concept of soulmate or finding you or something. His dream and hatred point to an important goal: to destroy this hero society.
You are invited to have a drink in "an ordinary bar," and he recognizes you. You also held the time machine in your heart that showed 0 and looked at him in amazement.
Their first impression of you
He saw you while he was catching the villain. Such a helpless, poor civilian, this made his delusion immediately arise. He wants to know you more.
He didn't even know their appearance or gender before that. And now, he has met you. He has a rosy filter for you; it is lovely and beautiful no matter what you do.
He doesn't like soulmates, especially "his soulmate is also Shigaraki's soulmate." Why do you have two partners in the League of Villains... Wait, you have three?
He needs to calm down first.
How do you face each other
He has to deal with the follow-up of capturing the villain first, but he would make sure to get your phone number and contact you.
Only one day later, Aizawa asked you out for a "cup of coffee." You can find that he has tied up his hair deliberately and dressed up to make sure he is in the best condition when dating.
Fortunately, your sweet attitude gave him a sigh of relief.
You are already perfect, but you are not very familiar with him yet. It doesn't matter; he has prepared video games, topic lists, and flowers.
Oh, yes, he has studied you and can discuss your doll collection with you. Although he doesn't like your doll, he knows that they can't take you away, and he also has some figures, so it is unfair to accuse you of this point.
He has to spend more time dealing with the fact that "you are his soulmate."
In the beginning, he didn't want to interact with you directly but would wrap his hair with a hood, follow you, and monitor your every move. Gradually, he wants to understand you. You don't even know that you are being followed, but smile at him.
He doesn't understand; why are you so kind? Don't you know that a soulmate is a compulsive concept?
Will the soulmate choose to kidnap you? Or use other methods?
All three of them would try to kidnap you.
Aizawa is a sane person, but the other two soulmates who know you are also villains. He can no longer bear it but would try to take you away and point out that this ensures your safety. He has a separate safe house; it would be an excellent choice to put you there.
There is no doubt that his plan was hindered. Neither Shigaraki nor Dabi would let him get what he wanted. They don't mind using Kurogiri's power to take you away. Still, the government closely monitors and protects you (because they learned that your soulmate is the leader and member of the League of Villains and a Pro Hero).
The consequence is that none of them can kidnap you. Unless they provoked a dispute, this is not suitable for the current situation.
So, you can live your own daily life, but you may never know what happened behind your back.
What they think of other soulmates
Aizawa has already dealt with Shigaraki and Dabi. He clearly recognizes that they are dangerous and terrifying. They are people who threaten the entire country.
If you continue to meet with them, then you will definitely get hurt.
He might think Eraserhead is a bit cool, but he hates him. He is like the man in the most boring hero movies and comics.
Um, Dabi. If it is someone else, he will definitely kill him, but that is a member of his little family, so he tends to share you with him.
Aizawa is just the defender of this corrupt hero society, guarding those fragile and hypocritical faces. He doesn't particularly hate him, but he must be hostile to him.
As for the leader... he never mentions his trust in Shigaraki, but he trusts him.
Imagination of NSFW
No matter what happens, they won't do it together, so only talk about possible situations.
Aizawa is eager to kiss. If he could, he would kiss you all day long, groping with his big hands on you, exploring every sensitive area. He enjoys the softness buried between your legs, sucking your little spots. Licking more intently in your sweet and gentle moaning until your pelvis trembles and releases.
He is not in a hurry to get into your body, just like chasing prey in the dark, enjoying the pleasure of stepping forward.
Shigaraki is eager to touch. He loves to hold you so much and put his head in your chest, implying that you should pat his head. You are happy to give him the comfort and intimacy he wants, but he always asks for so much and is always not enough. He would slap your wall so deeply and hard, making continuous loud slaps. When climbing the peak, he would have drawn you closer to him cautiously but frantically. He is afraid of turning you into dust accidentally, but he wants to destroy your existence.
He would make sure that all seeds could be pumped into your body. He wants not only his little family but also another family.
Dabi is eager to obey. He is not good at showing emotions, afraid that you can catch and break his disguise as long as that little bit. He only expects you to obey him with affection. He ordered you to spread your legs? Then you just do. He wants to punish you? Then you accept. That is his angel. His favorite position is that you have your back to him and butt rubs against him. He can control your happy rhythm at will.
Whenever he is released in your body, he does not have to worry about his expression being discovered by you.
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haikyutiehoe · 19 hours ago
“been such a good girl bunny.” touya purrs, slamming his cock between your legs. you jolt forward, crashing your lips against his in a passionate exchange, mouths open and honest with the taste of one another. “never forgot how to love me huh?” the male growls against your sensitive ears, lips tickling your sensory organ. the piercings feel cold against your cheek as his mouth drifts across your feature, you remain silent, whimpering. you don’t whine or complain, thrash or tremble in his grasp, you don’t utter a single word about how large his cock is, how it squeezes into a spot made too small for him, no. no, you’re perfect, the ideal bunny girl cocksleeve touya todoroki’s always dreamed of. warm, flame wielding hands caress your bare, sultry hips, slamming them in repetition against his wet pelvis as you cry out with each thrust sparking pure blinding pleasure across your gaze. “my perfect bunny. your pussy is such a pleasure - ahh, yea. just like that. fucking perfect bun bun.”
inspo : here
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lexxiie · 10 hours ago
Hi lexxiie, I love your fics so much. How about getting married to the BNHA boys (villains)?
Please and thanks.
afdskkjfskslk I can tRY. Listen, I can't picture any of the villains wanting to get married. Especially Touya and Kai, idk why. (I do know but I won't tell you). We can assume they found someone who is worth changing their ideals for, though. (thanks for the kind words, btw)
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Fandom: My Hero Academia
Featuring: Dabi | Shigaraki | Overhaul | (bonus) Hawks.
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When You Marry Them
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He's a bit too anxious when the day arrives, to be honest.
He never saw himself getting married at all.
So this is kind of a surprise to him more than to anyone else.
He's quite worried about you, though.
What if he becomes a new version of his father? The thought makes him sick.
He has tried to be better ever since he met you.
But he still doesn't know if he's doing it right.
He kind of asked you to marry him out of impulse.
But when he dared to imagine his life without you, he realized he had made the right thing. It's still weird, though.
He can't see himself as someone who deserves all of this happiness, or a normal life with you. But he also doesn't want anything else.
I don't think he would want a huge event or anything of the sorts. He would prefer something private.
You see, to him, deciding to marry you means that he loves you and wants you by your side forever. Not a pretentious party.
If you do want a pretentious party, he could consider it, though.
Still, the fact that he wants something small doesn't mean he doesn't care. He cares a lot, that's why he wants this moment to be just for the two of you.
I imagine he would want to get married after beating AFO's ass, so he would not want you to take his last name. I don't think he'd want you to take Shimura either, to be honest.
He. Would. Cry.
He tries so hard not to.
But after so many years of being lonely, he can't believe he finally will have someone as his forever. The man is in love.
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Another guy who thought he would never get married.
Actually, he thought he would be dead by now, how surprising, huh?
He's happy he's not dead, though. Otherwise, he wouldn't have met you.
He thought about proposing too many times, always deciding he wouldn't.
He's endeavor's son. He can't be a good husband, and he obviously isn't a good person. You can do better.
But the thought of you with someone else makes him light up in flames. Literally.
Remember I said Tomura proposed out of impusle? This man proposed out of impulse, impusle.
He was just staring at you one day and went like "Marry me." bRO??
No ring, no nothing. He did get a ring afterwards, though.
I picture this happening after little Shouto saves him, so Rei would demand a big wedding for her firstborn. If it was up to Touya, it would've been something small.
She thought her son was death and she'd never get to see him getting married, so having the opportunity makes her very emotional.
He wants to cry SO BAD when he sees you walking down the aisle, but he forces himself not to because he doesn't want to ruin the moment with blood coming out of his skin.
He looks so hot in a suit.
Listen, all of this isn't really his style, but he's willing to do it all for you. Pulling some semblance of a man is everything he had been doing since he met you.
He has no problem if you don't want to take his last name, but he would really like it if you did. It would boost his ego, besides, the idea of indroducing you as Ms. Todoroki makes this scary, dangerous man, feel butterflies in his stomach.
He is gonna do his best to be someone you deserve.
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Listen, I feel like he's quite a traditional man.
He couldn't see himself getting married anytime soon, but he hoped he would one day.
When he realizes he loves you, he just knows it. He knows he wants to marry you.
He doesn't do many things out of impulse. Actually he rarely does things out of impulse.
He planned the proposal step by step.
I have mentioned this before, but even though I don't think he's a corny man, he is very romantic, like, in a formal way.
He wanted everything to go perfectly. Roses, a nice ring and a great speech. He never disappoints.
When it comes to the wedding, this man has a great taste. He would want a small, but very elegant event. Mostly because he wants an excuse to see you in a wedding dress. and then taking it off.
The thought of dancing with you is very important to him as well.
The last name. He won't force you to do anything you don't want to, but he will be extremely displeased if you don't take his last name. He is a bit possesive and would love to call you Ms. Chisaki.
He is a great husband. Seriously.
You are the most important person in his life. You are his priority.
Honor is a big deal to him, so his wedding vows are an oath he won't break. His word is his most valuable possession, and he gave you his word of loving you forever.
He just knows he found the best thing that'll ever happen to him, and he's not planning on letting go.
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He always wanted to get married.
And he wanted to marry you since the moment he saw you.
He's a passionate guy, you know?
I feel like he would ask you to marry him multiple times and you'd say no each time.
You just felt like he wasn't being serious because of how casually he would ask.
But you also thought that even if he was serious, he probably wasn't thinking it through.
He did. Since the very first time. My man has perseverance. I would be lying if I told you it didn't hurt him every time you rejected him, but he had it clear in his mind that he only wanted to be with you. So he kept asking.
Until the marvelous day arrived. You finally said yes.
Keigo acts like a puppy whenever he gets excited, so imagine him jumping around and hugging you, and kissing you... He's very intense.
But you wouldn't want it any other way.
He wants a huge party.
He is proud of himself for getting you to say yes, he has to show his beautiful partner off.
This guy would definitely cry without even trying to hold back.
You don't have to, but please, please, pleaseee take his last name. You can put it after your own, he doesn't mind. He just wants you to have a piece of him with you.
He would definitely want to have a family with you, but the thing he cares the most about in his life, is you. If you don't want kids, he doesn't care. He only needs his wife to be happy.
He is such a considerate, loving man. Probably the best guy you could marry in the whole world.
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kireirengoku · a day ago
Touch yourself for me
Dabi Racercar Au
CW: Guided Masturbation, Ruined orgasms, phone turned video call sex, Dom!Dabi, Sub!fem reader
Comments: Repost from my back up blog, @merumerucchi
Network: @planetonet
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I really hated it whenever Dabi was gone for a race. I missed him so much whenever he was gone. My fiancé, Touya Todoroki, known as Dabi the Cremator was the reigning  champion of the Grand Prix. He was away defending his title and unfortunately I was not allowed to come this time. I  changed into my pajamas, which consisted of one of Dabi’s large shirts and nothing else. I laid on the bed and flipped on the TV, quickly turning it to the channel the race was on.
My heart began to race when I spotted his sleek black car with chilling blue flames that curled into the number 26 on the sides. I cheered when I heard the announcer say that his car was in the lead by a lap and half with the other trailing behind. Dabi was going to win! As the white flag was waved to signal the last lap, I watched as Dabi soared around the track, his car smoothly gliding along the curves. My heart swelled with joy when the checkered flag was raised as his car flew past the finish line.
“YES!” I screamed, jumping to my feet on the bed and raising my hands above my head. As I was still cheering for my fiancé's victory, my phone rang. Without really looking at it, I answered rather annoyed, “Hello, what do you want? I’m trying to celebrate Dabi’s win!”
"Well, well, Dollface, is that anyway to greet your champion?”
A blush heated my face instantly at the sound of his gravelly voice. I quickly sat down on the bed and clenched my hands in my lap. I could felt myself getting wet just from his voice. “D-Dabi..I thought you were still racing. I just saw you.”
"You know that I never race live on TV.” His voice lowered in tone, knowing it would send shivers down his girl's body. He’d trained her to respond to his tone and he knew that she loved it whenever he growled in her ear over the phone. "Dollface, do you miss me?”
“What kind of question is that!” I yelled into the receiver. “You know damn well, I miss you!” I blinked when my phone buzzed with a notification that he was trying to video call with me. I realized that I was wearing one of his shirts and nothing else and my face grew even more hot. But I could not keep him waiting. Sighing, I pressed the button to accept the video chat. “Hi.” I said shyly.
Those chilling blue eyes of his narrowed slightly as he gauged her attire. “Damn, Doll, you must really miss me. You’re wearing one of my shirts. Does it smell like me? Does it feel like I’m wrapped around you?” His lips pulled up into a smirk as he watched her squirm around in her spot on the bed. Dabi knew that her little body must be aching for his touch. “Baby~” he purred out.
I jumped when he purred out my other petname as I felt a rush of heat flood my center. I rubbed my thighs together to ease the tension that was building up within me. “Dabi...I want you...”
“Baby, what do you want? Use your words or do you want me to tell you just how to touch yourself. How to touch that aching pussy of yours?” He sat back deeper into the chair he was sitting in, his pants becoming too tight. He pulled his zipper down to relieve some of the pressure. “You want to hear my voice while you imagine its my fingers fucking that slutty little hole of yours?”
I whimpered as I moved my hand down to my aching cunt. I needed him so much. I wanted to feel his fingers on me. "Dabi...please. Tell me what to do." I set the phone up on a pillow that gave him perfect view of my dripping pussy.
"Pull up my shirt and place it in your mouth." He instructed, pulling his dick out of his leather pants. His eyes watched as she did as she was told and his lips curled into a smile. She was always so obedient. He stroked his hand down the thick length. "Good girl..." Dabi purred. "Touch your clit. Just like that."
Another soft whine left my throat as I circled my sensitive flesh roughly. I used my other hand to twist and pull at my nipples. Fuck. "Dabi..." I said between the cloth in my teeth. “I...I...” I stammered, shifting my hands around and started to push two fingers into my clenching hole.
“Did I say you could fuck yourself on your fingers yet?” Dabi scolded, his eyes narrowing. He stopped stroking his cock and sighed as he tucked it away. “Now, you are going to have to wait until I return home to cum. You’d better not fucking touch your self until then, Dollface."
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dejwrites · a day ago
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[ THIRSTGIVING — dejwrites 1k followers event ] WEEK 5, DAY 2 — TOUYA 'DABI' TODOROKI ( KATOPTRONOPHILIA. ) ( audio cred. )
ROCKSTAR DABI AND HIS BIMBO GIRLFRIEND WERE LIKE TWO PEAS IN A POD. When he wasn't performing, you'll see his girlfriend [Y/N] latched on his arm with the biggest smile on her face. The complete opposite of each other, but perhaps that's why the relationship went so well. They oddly balanced each other in the public eye and gossip tabloids. But [Y/N] knew that Dabi had a quite possessive side. Did that stop her from batting her eyelashes at bartenders and other celebrities to get what she wanted? No.
So there Dabi's very flirtatious bimbo girlfriend was letting out cries of desperation as Dabi's long digits that decorated with his favorite silver rings toy with her clit. [Y/N]'s chest weaved so aggressively if someone could have heard the way she was breathing, they would assume she was having an asthma attack. Tears decorated her lash line as her perfectly manicured fingernails dug into Dabi's skin. She couldn't help but close her eyes in embarrassment at the mess she was making in his hand. Cheeks burning hot as Dabi's breath tickled her earlobe. "Open your fuckin' eyes [Y/N], just look at the mess you made."
[Y/N] eyes stared at her own reflection in the mirror, leg spread apart revealing her soaking wet cunt and Dabi's pornographic ways to make her feel the way she currently felt. Head fell back on his chest as she let out a slight moan feeling his digits curve upward hitting that one spot that caused her toes to curl.
"Now, say out loud who you belong to, and then maybe I'll let you cum," Dabi whispered into [Y/N]'s ear. His thumb rubbed slowly on the woman's sensitive bud with the most sadistic grin on his face as he stared right at you in the mirror.
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( NSFW LINKS — ❤️. ❤️. ❤️ )
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kitsunefire7 · 2 days ago
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Dabi as Imhotep’s priests/bodyguard in my kacchako X The Mummy crossover fanarts
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deartouya · 12 hours ago
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featuring. dabi, bakugou katsuki, kirishima eijiro, hitoshi shinsou + keigo takami.
warnings: a little suggestive in dabi + hawks probs.
note: i wanna wear their clothes so bad goodbye :,)
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✞ DABI was sitting at the kitchen counter at the hideout, waiting on you coming downstairs to join him, and when you do— you feel his piercing gaze immediately on you. his eyes roam every part of your body that’s covered by the light fabric of his white shirt before you hear him stand. “well would you look at that.” dabi drawls, voice dangerously low as he approaches you, slowly with a handsome smirk on his lips— feeling the natural heat of his palms rest against your hips as he leans to almost groan lowly in your ear. “letting every bastard in here know you’re mine, doll. yeah?” his words are followed by a teasing squeeze at your ass, followed by a raspy laugh as he pulls you even closer, his voice deeper now “not sure it’s enough, how ‘bout you help me remind them?” your lips part when he pulls back only to ghost his lips over yours, feeling the cold wood of the wall against your back as he guides you back against it, his chest almost pushed flush against your own while his hands begin to smooth over your waist “you look so good in my shit, doll. might just let you keep it on.”
✞ BAKUGOU you’d gotten a little cold while you waited in bed while he showered, so you ended up grabbing one of his sweaters and throwing it on a few minutes before he was done— immediately melting into the familiar scent it carried. you hear the bathroom door open shortly after, looking up to meet a suddenly frozen katsuki as he stands in the doorway, blonde hair wet and hanging slightly over his eyes but you can still see how wide they seem to be as he stares at you. “babe, the hell are you doing?” he almost shouts, his breathing hitching when you pout up at him so cutely while draped in his sweater. “that’s mine, dumbass.” “but i was cold, ‘suki!” you huff, reaching to pull the hoodie off before you’re quickly stopped by a very pink cheeked katsuki almost running over to you “i didn’t say you had to take it off, fuck—just, just keep it on and cmeer if you’re cold.” he huffs, avoiding your eyes with a slight pout when he climbs in next to you, guiding you into his arms and you immediately melt into his warmth as he rests his lips on your shoulder “keep it, shit suits you more than it does me anyway.”
✞ KIRISHIMA he’d ran downstairs to grab a drink just as you felt a shiver run through your body, opting to grab the sweater he’d just recently taking off given how warm he usually was— throwing it over your figure while you stand to adjust it. you don’t realise he’s made his way back upstairs until you hear his voice call from the doorway, his body frozen as he holds too glasses of water and gapes at you, lips parted softly and eyebrows raised “damn, you look so awesome, babe! you gotta wear my stuff more, for real!“ kiri grins enthusiastically, ending up making his way over to his drawers with a bright look in his eyes as he goes through his clothes. “i’ve probably got some more you can try, cmon how cool would that be baby?” and you watch as your boyfriend turns to face you again, holding a few too many t-shirts in his arms before almost bouncing over to set them on the bed in favour of approaching you after. “we gotta do this more often!
✞ SHINSOU “what’re you doing?” you hear shinsou ask as he returns from the bathroom to you laying in his bed newly draped in his shirt, finding it comfier than the one you wore to his. “what do you mean?” you reply, not realising he’s asking about the shirt when he looks away from your gaze— his hand moving quickly to rub at the back of his neck while his cheeks begin to tint pink, clearing his throat before talking again. “doesn’t matter, ‘ts not important.” you huff at his words, curious but the blush on shinsou’s face has you focusing on that instead when you feel him climb back into the bed next to you, sitting a little closer than normal this time. you feel his fingers brush against your hip before they smooth over the hem of the tshirt, his fingers fiddling slightly with the fabric while he rests his head in the crook of your neck. “keep it .” he hums, voice raspy as he melts into you and you can almost feel the gentle smile on his lips against your skin.
✞ HAWKS you hadn’t even realised it actually wasn’t yours until you put it on, shrugging and enjoying how comfortable the fabric of your boyfriends shirt was while you waited on him coming home. it’s not long before you hear the door close, rising from the couch when you hear a familiar soft tone speak from the doorway “oho? what’s this, babe? looks like somebody missed me.” hawks teases, his eyes immediately recognising the shirt on your figure as he approaches you, resting his hands on your hips while wiggling his brows at you. “is this a surprise? hmmm, who knew you looked so good in my stuff birdy, i’m supposed to be the handsome one.” hawks chuckles lightheartedly when you slap playfully at his chest following his words. his gaze turning a little softer when you roll your eyes at him after, before he gently shoves his face into the crook of your neck to place ticklish kisses against the skin, causing you to bat him away before he almost scoops you into his arms “kei!” “i know, baby—it’s just such a shame i gotta rip this off now, right?”
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iwannabehisbunny · a day ago
Okay so i have an idea for some mha angst👀👀
The class is getting attacked again and this time its more ruthless than ever
Y/n ends up getting a villain 2xs there limit and when they are screaming/begging for help 1a is nowhere to be found they left y/n with the villain thinking they could handle it and would have already taken care of the villain.
(Feel free to ignore this:)
Left for Dead (Angst)
Y/n’s class overestimate’s their strength at a cost.
TW: pain, scarring/marking
A scream tore through Y/n’s throat as they were slammed into the dirt, their shoulder blistering beneath the villain’s flames.
UA had wanted to send class 1A to another camp, something which vastly improved the kids skills the first time. Everyone was on board for the most part, but who could have guessed that another attack would take place?
A sick and bitter part of Y/n’s mind told that they they weren’t surprised. They’d been attacked too many times by the League for it to be a coincidence, so why didn’t Nezu take more precautions with his students?
Y/n scrambled to their feet, holding their arm and trying to summon the ink in their body for more help, but their control was wearing thin. They’d already manifested four large wolves, and Dabi’s flames burned right through them. His laughter filled the flaming area between them.
All they could do now was run for help.
Y/n turned and booked it down the path towards where they hoped their classmates or teachers were located. They screamed for help, though they couldn’t see or hear anyone else. The only sound that bounced through their skull was Dabi’s laughter as he followed.
Midoriya’s head whipped in the direction towards Y/n’s yell. It was faint, and he couldn’t make out any specific words, but something was pulling him them. He and Bakugo already took a few steps in their direction, but Hagakure stopped them.
“Guys you can’t go, we need you two here to fight Shigaraki and that nomu!” She clung to Midoriya’s arm, tugging him back towards the smaller group.
“But they sound like they need help!” Midoriya couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Hagakure persisted.
“You know they tend to yell when they use their quirk! I’m sure their fine, they’re strong!”
“Blind Side’s right. Inkjet will be fine, we need to trust them on this.” Bakugou said, already launching himself towards the nomu. Midoriya frowned, but nonetheless headed back into the fight. They were right. His classmate was strong, they could handle it.
But nobody realizes it was Dabi they were facing. Fire had always been Y/n’s weakness, it burned out their ink and left them dry. It was why they would often spar with Todoroki, because he was their weak spot.
Tears welled in Y/n eyes as their charred legs stumbled and begged for a break. They weren’t even running anymore, just limping away as best they could while Dabi walked behind them, taunting them.
“Where’s your hero friends, hmm? You guys have your provisional licenses by now, so where are they?” A sob choked through Y/n’s chest as they stumbled, hardly catching themself before they could fall. Dabi snorted and threw his flames under their weak feet, causing them to scream.
“Pathetic. You call yourself a hero?” Y/n fell to the ground, cradling their burned arm and pulling their knees up to salvage their seared feet. Their hero costume did nothing against the blistering heat, and Dabi stalked closer.
“Oh, you’re alone aren’t you? You call them friends, but surely they can hear you. They aren’t far. So why aren’t they coming to your aid?” Y/n shook, curling into themself in hopes that maybe, maybe Dabi would let them go. That there might be a chance that he won’t want to kill a child. His laugh didn’t give them hope.
“They’re not here because they don’t care.” Shigaraki appeared behind them, scratching his neck as he approached. He glowered at the child hero beneath him.
“You remember the last time we met? When you had one of your beasts tear into my leg.” Y/n sobbed, begging still for help, for mercy, but a lead weight sunk in their stomach. Nobody was going to save them. And they weren’t going to be spared, either.
“I’ll enjoy watching you cease to exist.” Shigaraki hand came down on the back of Y/n’s neck, four of his fingers making contact with their skin. Their cries grew worse.
“Actually, Shigaraki, I think I want to take this one.” Shigaraki rose an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to Dabi who was still gazing down at Y/n an unreadable expression on his face.
“Alright. Don’t take too long, they are taking nomu down quicker than anticipated.” Shigaraki released Y/n’s neck and they gasped in relief, tears still pouring down their face. Shigaraki backed into a warp gate and disappeared.
Dabi slowly circled the cowering child, frowning slightly. It really was pathetic for a hero to cower, but he was beginning to feel pity for them. He knew for a fact that their classmates could hear them, but they weren’t doing anything to help. Was it overconfidence? Or perhaps they would rather ignore a dying classmate than face them? Dabi sighed.
“They are choosing to leave you here with me, you know.” Y/n let out a shrill whine, burying their face into their arms. None of their beasts were responding.
“I’m not going to kill you. I think fucking you up would be much more meaningful.” Y/n choked and whipped their head up to watch as Dabi grew closer. He was grinning now, his hand lit with flames.
“You’ll remember this for the rest of you life, and your shitty classmates won’t be able to look at you without feeling guilt.” Y/n let out a blood curdling scream as Dabi lowered his hand over their cheek, searing their skin with the imprint of his palm as though he slapped them.
Aizawa head whipped in the direction of the scream, and he made a dead sprint followed closely by Todoroki, Midoriya, and Bakugou. They’d defeated the villains and were doing a headcount to make sure everyone was accounted for, but Y/n had been missing. Aizawa felt ice in his veins at the scream. They weren’t okay.
Y/n collapsed to the ground, passed out in pain. Dabi cackled and rolled his eyes, smirking at the various handprints that had been burned across their body. Their cheek, neck, and arms all forever branded with the memory that Dabi was stronger. He smirked and walked through a portal, staying just long enough to make eye contact with Eraserhead before disappearing.
“Y/n?!” The boys yelled, feeling sick at the sight. Aizawa quickly picked up his student, using his capture weapon to cover them as best he could.
“You three go back to your classmates and the heroes, I’ll bring them to Recovery Girl.”
“Well they’re not dead.” Class 1A let out a collective sigh of relief at Recovery Girls words.
“Are they going to be okay?” Mina was worried for her friend.
“They should be. But their quirk will be affected. They don’t have as much room on their body anymore for their creatures, so they will be limited in summoning.” Their eyes widened. This was going to affect their hero career?
“I can’t believe it. We should have gone after them, damnit!” Bakugou slammed his fist into the table, he was angry with himself. He chose the wrong time to believe in his classmate.
“We can’t blame ourselves, Kacchan. There’s no way we could have known they were up against Dabi.”
“Yeah there was.” Silence. Everyone’s eyes fell on Kirishima who had both arms wrapped in bandages. He glared at the floor as he continued.
“We were fighting everyone except Dabi, and Y/n was the only one missing.”
“Wait- ‘should have gone after them’? Did you guys know they were in trouble?” Sero’s words cut into the two boys like a knife. Guilt weighed heavily on their back.
“Yes, but we thought they were yelling like they do in practice!” Hagakure cut in, “we didn’t know they were actually hurt.”
“Stop it. It’s nobodies fault except Dabi’s.” Iida cut in. Blaming themselves for not acting when the could have would do nothing.
Y/n’s fingers traced the tender marks on their skin. His handprints were all over their body, the one on their face inches from their eye. Two curled around their neck as though he was choking them, and several on their arms holding them in place. One on their hip and two more on their thighs. The placement was almost intimate, but it made them sick.
Aizawa stepped into the room but froze when he saw the damage done to his student. He felt his throat get tight, but stepped closer. He didn’t flinch as Y/n faced him, a mix of anger and despair in their eyes.
“Why didn’t any of you come to help? You could hear me screaming couldn’t you?” Aizawa said nothing, just continues to walk to Y/n. They began to cry.
“Am I not enough? Was I too weak? I almost died, Shigarakis hand was on my neck! Where were you?!” Y/n choked as Aizawa reached for them, pulling them into his chest. They clung to their teacher, sobbing.
“You are more than enough. You are an amazing hero. I’m so sorry we weren’t there in time.” Even though his words were genuine, they did little to comfort Y/n. Their body had been scarred as a reminder to Aizawa that these kids were just that. Kids. They weren’t heroes, not yet. He forced out a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he hugged Y/n closer. They buried their face into his chest as they continued to cry, clinging to the back of his hero costume.
Bun: Phew! That was… a lot. I almost wanted to kill Y/n but though that fucking them up would hurt more :P thanks for the request! This was fun to write, and is MUCH longer than I though it would be.
Also! Y/n’s quirk is called Living Ink! Basically anything they draw on their body they can bring to life with ink! Tattoos would work too, but they don’t have any yet.
Masterlist/Request Board
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inkykeiji · 6 hours ago
and i don‘t wanna be a memory
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characters: shigaraki tomura, dabi
genre: smut and angst
notes: aaaaah oh my gosh!!! this is the fifth part of break my bones but act as my spine!! it is technically the last part of the main series, but there will be an epilogue posted to wrap up loose ends and provide more closure hehehe. as always, please heed the warnings below and stay safe!! check the comments for additional notes after you’ve finished reading! | title cred: memory by kane brown ft. blackbear
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, murder, cheating, betrayal (kind of?), one (1) slap to the face, depictions of severe mental illness, cheating, a very brief trial, a LOT of crying, size kink/size difference, tummy bulge, reader is quite flexible, minimal prep, toxic relationships, guilt, self-reflection, difficult decisions that hurt to make, using sex to avoid emotions + reality, daddy kink (very slight), blood
words: 8.4k
part one ⋆ part two ⋆ part three ⋆ part four ⋆ part five ⋆ epilogue ⋆ series masterlist
And despite how much pain you’re in—so much it’s practically tearing you apart from the inside out, a vicious creature with razors for claws nestled at the core of your soul—you look so fucking beautiful; ethereal, almost, lids lifting to reveal glassy irises, the gleaming trails of water adorning your cheeks catching in the neon filtering through the window, staining your skin in the most brilliant colours—corals and fuchsias, teals and ultramarines; strokes that shift and morph as they paint your flesh in time with the intermittent flashing of the signs and city outside.
A masterpiece. A living, breathing masterpiece, constantly revising, constantly changing, constantly evolving into something novel, something better, something entirely unique, chiseled by the sorrows and spirits of life itself.
And Dabi wants to leave his mark.
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Blood screams in your ears as haze invades your pupils and shrouds your vision, the whole office varnished with a fuzzy mist, distorting forms and softening corners, blurring everything together until it’s nothing more than a plash of shapeless colours, dancing elegantly with grain as the image wavers, flickering like damaged filmstock as it rolls through your mind.
 Fingers curling in Hawks’ hoodie, you push yourself forward, back onto your own feet, the floor rippling beneath your soles. A good, thorough shake of your head knocks the fog from your vision, lashes fluttering as you blink rapidly, Daddy’s office morphing back into smooth lines and hard edges, all dark wood and aged leather, and you inhale, lungs ballooning with the force, tissues pressed against shattered ribs, before you raise a foot, ready to enter the room.
 “Don’t touch it!” Hawks shouts, an arm flying out to bar entry, sculpted muscle colliding with your chest hard enough to kick that breath from your lungs. Quickly, you look over at him, struggling a little against his strength, eyebrows knitted, the question of why murdered in your throat, evaporating into the ghost of an indignant noise, clawing at the back of your tongue. Dabi turns, too, eyes narrowed sharply and head quirked, staring at Hawks as if he’s assessing him, as if he’s dissecting him.
 At simultaneous quizzical looks, Hawks looks away with a wince, as if the two of you are too bright, your rays of inquisition too strong, explaining, “It needs to be left intact, as evidence,”
 And he sounds almost regretful, unable to meet your gazes.
 “Uh, What?”
 “Yeah,” he blows the word out in a huff of breath, finally lifting his hung head to glance at you through the corner of his eye. “We don’t know where he is right now, or what he’s doing, right? This,” he gestures the office with a grand sweep of his hand, “is indisputable evidence of a man entrenched in the throes of a psychotic episode. If he—If he does something, this whole scene will be invaluable,”
 “Jesus, Hawks, what exactly do you think he’s out there doing?” you ask, an incredulous laugh bubbling past your lips, though your breath is beginning to quicken, chest stuttering under the force.
 “Tomura doesn’t go to court, birdie,” Dabi spits, eyes slit in defensiveness, mouth soured and screwed up into some sort of hybrid between a smirk and a grimace. “Figured you’d know that fact by now.” A pause lingers heavily in the air, Dabi’s eyes gliding over the smaller man with an assessing, aggressively invasive glare. Hawks shrinks a little, shoulders curling in on himself as he looks away, and you frown. “You sure that’s the kind of evidence you’re talking about?”
 “Yeah, ‘course,” he swallows around the words, eyes scanning the dishevelled office again. “This has no worth to—”
 “It doesn’t matter,” Kurogiri’s conviction rings throughout the penthouse, his voice strong and stern, although his hands are quivering. “Not at the moment. There are more pressing issues at hand right now, such as where Tomura is,” pausing, the older man’s gaze scans each of your faces, slow and with thorough deliberation. “Someone needs to go looking for him, and at least one person must stay here, in case he returns. I’ll find the Boss,”
 Hawks nods. “I’ll go search for him,”
 “No, no, no,” Dabi begins with a shake of his head and a wag of his fingers, lips curling into something predatory. “I don’t fucking think so, bird. You’re staying here. I’ll go look—”
 “No,” he nearly growls, topaz eyes flashing, Dabi’s nose scrunching at the disrespect, sharp jaw clenching twice. “You will stay here, in case he returns,” gold sweeps across your face, bright and brilliant, pricks of fire crawling across your skin. “You, too. You two are the only people he’ll actually talk to, guaranteed. If he walks into this place and finds me here, he’ll walk right out,” he stops, the blaze in his stare dimming, nearly extinguished. “And you know it,”
 As much as Dabi doesn’t want to admit it, Hawks has a point.
 ✰          ✰          ✰
 “I don’t like this,” he’s muttering around the thumb between his lips, front teeth nibbling on bloodied cuticles. He’s been pacing across the living room for half an hour now, gnawing on his skin while crystal eyes dart around the room—from his phone, to the windows, to the elevator, to the fire escape door. “I don’t fucking like this. It should be me out there searching. I mean,” he halts his stride to look at you, sitting stiff and still on the edge of the couch with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, eyes wide and breathing laboured. “I’m the one who knows him best. I’m the one who would know—or, or who would be able to accurately guess—his hiding spots,”
 Silently, you shrug mechanically, eyes fixated on the corner of the glass coffee table.
 “He’s such a fucking liar, that jackass,” Dabi seethes, words corrosive as they burn holes through the atmosphere. “I bet you he isn’t even looking,” he continues, pulling a cigarette from the worn white pack with his teeth, cardboard cracked and edges fraying. “He doesn’t care at all, that little prick. I bet you he’s out there running to his pathetic Chief, just like the snivelling fucking coward he is,”
 Finally, your trance breaks, that singular word slicing through your stupor. “Chief?”
 But Dabi isn’t listening to you, aggressively flipping open a blue Zippo and cupping the flames. “And Tomura’s fucking—fucking God knows where, doing God knows what, stupid fucker didn’t even bring his phone with him—”
 “Dabi,” his name trembles on your tongue, escaping as a shaky plead—to confirm it isn’t true, to deny the worst of the worst—clawed panic seizing your heart. “Dabi, what do you mean, ‘chief’?”
 “Oh, yeah, didn’t tell you, did I,” he smirks around the cigarette, words entwined with tendrils of smoke as he exhales both out his nose. “He’s a cop,”
 “He’s a cop. Keigo—or Hawks, or whatever the hell you wanna call him. He’s a fucking cop,”
 A loud, tinny ring tunnels through your ears, blood blistering your veins as it surges with fury.
 “W-Wait—He’s a—And you—And you knew all along!?” And you can’t help the incredulous shrill embedded in your voice, standing from your spot suddenly, eyes raging as your chest begins to heave. “You—You brought a f-fucking cop into this space, into our space, our safe place, our home, as Tomura was—While Tomura was—” It’s becoming difficult to breathe now, exhales harsh and erratic as they slash through your words, thick black smoke billowing up your throat from the inferno blazing in your stomach.
 Frantic eyes scrutinize Dabi’s face as realization cracks through a coating of confusion, steadily burning cigarette immobile between tattooed lips, abandoned ash dusting his chest.
 “I—Yeah...” he swallows thickly, filter sticking to dry lips as they move, exhaling a weak cloud of smoke as he sits down heavily, wrung hands hung between his thighs, a knee beginning to bounce. “Yeah, I did,”
 The confession cracks under the weight of culpability, but Dabi isn’t afforded a moment to ruminate on what his monumental fuck up might actually mean, the door to the fire escape slamming open, hard enough to crater the wall, the sudden entrance garnering both of your gazes.
 “I did it,” Tomura’s giggling as he barrels through the door, crimson eyes burning brighter than a red giant right before it explodes into a supernova, imbued with the beautiful turmoil inherent in its death, irises bubbling as they flare with magma. “Dabi, Dabi, I did it,”
 But Dabi’s barely listening, shooting to his feet the moment Tomura’s stepped over the threshold, blue eyes blazing as callous words spill from his mouth. “Where the fuck have you been!?”
 And he’s so furious it takes him a second—a second longer than it ever should have—for him to notice.
 Drops of scarlet ooze from Tomura’s saturated knuckles and roll down a sharp glinting blade clasped tightly in one fist, dripping thick and sticky as they drizzle to the floor, colliding against the hardwood with sickening splat!s. Specks of rust decorate Tomura’s silver strands, dried and crusty, clumping tufts together. It’s almost artful, the way they’ve splattered across his gaunt face and cream sweater, little jewels of blood embellishing his body in a manner that’s almost story-like, that builds like a fantastical crescendo, increasing in frequency as a sapphire gaze slides down his form, cautious and careful, those glittering droplets melting into a lake of blood, soaked up by cashmere, the bottom half steeped in viscous crimson.
 Bewildered ruby, glowing with sheer exhilaration, searches Dabi’s face, eager and excited.
 “Jesus Christ,” he breathes, chest beginning to stammer as disbelieving crystal scans the man in front of him. “Wh-What the hell happened?”
 “I did it,” Tomura repeats, words breathless with raptured elation, megawatt smile plastered across his blood-freckled face.
 “Did what?” Dabi asks, and it’s incredible the way he shifts into professionalism, the way he transforms before your very eyes, as if his whole consciousness has flipped, voice suddenly and surprisingly calm, imbued with just a touch of curiosity, the perfect accentuation. “What did you do, Tomura?”
 He advances as he speaks, movements heedful and vigilant, an arm held out behind him, keeping you secured, keeping you from straying too close, too suddenly.
 Scarlet eyes flash up, ferocious and twinkling, smile deranged as it twists on his lips.
 “I killed him, Dabi!” he says, as if it’s obvious, as if Dabi should know. “It’s over now, it’s done. We can relax; we’re all safe—finally.”
 And then, it clicks.
 Only a few feet from Tomura now, Dabi cautiously comes to a halt, your nails burrowing into his bicep as you peek around his shoulder. Outstretching his arm, he offers his free hand to Tomura, cobalt eyes alert and attentive as they beseech him.
 “Tomura, give me the knife,”
 Tomura’s smile begins to waver, forehead crinkling as his brows wobble, but his irises are still bright and blazing.
 “Didn’t you hear what I just said? We’re safe now,”
 “Yes,” Dabi continues, and to the untrained ear he’d sound at ease, but you can hear that slight strain, voice infused with concern and care, sentiment leaking through the cracks in his words. “And that’s fucking fantastic. Truly, it is—”
 “Aren’t—Aren’t you happy? Everything can go back to normal now,” And while there’s still a smile on his face, painfully stretched across his cheeks and so sharp it’s surprising it hasn’t spliced his face clean in two, his gaze is lacquered with thick tears, a shield of water that does nothing to hide the screaming of his soul, flickering in the depths of his cavernous pupils.
 When Dabi speaks again, his voice is heavy with sorrow, dripping with the unshed tears clinging to spiky lashes. “I—I am, I’m so happy,”
 Truthfully, it genuinely sounds like he is, his tone warmer than he’s ever addressed Tomura with before, at least in your presence.You assume it’s because he is, on some level, happy: happy that Tomura’s home, happy that Tomura’s safe.
 “And now I want you to give me your knife, so you don’t hurt yourself—so you can go get cleaned up,”
 Leaning back a little and rocking on the balls of his feet, Tomura strays from the desperate hand offered, its calloused fingers wiggling in enticement, crimson eyes narrowing in suspicion, a hand cradling the gleaming knife to his chest, almost as if it’s precious, as if it’s special.
 “Tomu, please,” Dabi says, voice uncharacteristically patient, and you can barely believe this is the same man from only a few moments ago, pacing viciously with caustic curses falling from his lips and quivering hands raking through his hair. It’s as though Dabi’s head is suddenly clear, trepidation and terror eradicated by the volatile delicacy of this situation, his mind a crystal lake, frozen over with a thick layer of ice, keeping it all level—calm, cold, calculated. Slim fingers flex, and he continues. “Gimme your knife, yeah? And go take a shower, you’re tracking blood everywhere,” he pauses, sapphire captivating ruby. “And then we can discuss how to, uh, how to move forward, okay?”
 Glittery scarlet searches Dabi’s face, almost methodical in the way it sweeps across his features, computing and cautious—and it’s the first glimpse of your Daddy that you’ve seen in a long time.
 Dabi notices, too.
 “Please, Daddy,” you speak up, working hard to imitate Dabi’s serene nature, though you can’t quite quell that incessant tremor sewn into your tone. “Go take a shower, so I can hug you and we can celebrate! I can’t—” the words snag on a suppressed sob, fracturing into a hiccup. “I can’t hug you if you’re all dirty like that; I don’t want to get blood all over my dress,”
 And the way Tomura’s eyes soften, the way his whole face fucking melts, instantly disintegrating the rickety pendulum between deranged joy and unfounded suspicion and stuffing his features full of pure, unadulterated love, is absolutely heartbreaking.
 It’s been so long, so long since you’ve seen that look on his face, heart mutilating itself as it attempts to crawl and slink and slide between the ribs that cage it, rabid in its desperate urgency to reach its owner. You press a palm flat to your chest, a feeble attempt to stop its escape, to physically hold down the vicious sobs sprouting claws and piercing your lungs.
 “Alright,” Tomura says finally, looking back to Dabi with a nod. “Alright, yeah,”
 And despite his cooperation, neither bodies relax from their rigid state—not when Tomura agrees, not when Dabi’s hand finally wraps around the blood-slicked handle of the knife, not until the sound of water hitting marble tiles finally echoes down the hall.
 Frenetic eyes fly to Dabi’s face the moment you’re sure Tomura’s in the shower, shoulders shrugging as your head shakes a little, nose twitching with the force of your uneven breaths. And you want to cry, you want to scream, you want to ask what the hell is going on and how the hell you’re supposed to fix this, to deal with this at all, but you don’t have a moment to voice your concerns. And Dabi, with those crystal eyes overflowing with so many emotions they almost look cloudy and indiscernible, doesn’t have a moment to console you, the obnoxious buzzing of his phone breaking your stare and collecting your combined attention.
 A ferocious growl rips from his throat as he pulls the device from his pocket, features puckering as if he had just swallowed something sour before a thumb slams down on the answer button.
 “Listen bird, now really isn’t the best—”
 “Get out of there,” The words echo through the receiver, packaged in harsh breaths, and Dabi winces, pulling the speaker away from his ear.
 “Get the hell out of there! Take the kid and the cat with you!”
 “You’re sounding like a fucking lunatic, and I’ve already got one of those to deal with toni—”
 “I’m serious, Dabi,” Keigo nearly coughs out, words strangled with sincerity. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry; I didn’t—We wouldn’t have—We didn’t know...This was a big mistake,”
 “What are you fucking talking about?” Dabi hisses out, though he can feel it, the panic beginning to erode his heart, beating irregularly as dread eats through it. Sounds of commotion echo through the phones weak speaker, a soft harmony akin to murmuring voices and combat boots against pavement, the cocking of guns and the jingling of handcuffs.
 And suddenly, Keigo doesn’t have to explain, not anymore.
 “It was you,” The realization leaves his throat in a frail breath, whole body buzzing as alarm gushes through his veins, evoking a tingling rush of adrenaline to chase it, while a heavy block of bitter lead sinks in his stomach, wrapped up in an odd, inexplicable sense of betrayal and smothered in sticky, potent guilt. “It was you, you fucking bastard,”
 “I’m sorry, Dabi, I’m so sorry,” the apologies shatter through the speaker, huffed out and thick with tears as the shards pierce Dabi’s ears. “Please, leave,” Keigo urges, voice hoarse, straining under the weight of remorse and responsibility. “Take the fire escape, do not go near the fucking elevator, you hear me?” The order is panted out hastily, letters flowing into one another at the rapid pace they leave his lips. “Please, Dabi,”
 “What’ll—” he begins, but the words snag in his throat, and he swallows thickly. “And what'll happen to him?”
 “They won’t hurt him,” Keigo breathes, voice cracking with sincerity. “I promise, Dabi, they won’t hurt him,”
 “How am I—”
 “I know, How are you supposed to trust me now? I know. But I’m giving you my word; I won’t let them hurt him. I know it doesn’t count for much now, but it’s all I’ve got. He’s—he’s very sick.”
 “He...” Dabi stops, voice tapering off, unsure how to proceed. “He’s in the shower. Don’t—Just—Don’t fucking startle him, alright?”
 “We’ll do our best,” Keigo replies dutifully, manner already beginning to morph into efficient professionalism as he nears the complex. “Please, go. Go!”
 The line goes dead, that singular command echoing through Dabi’s mind as he stands stoic and still, dial tone droning in his ear, phone still clutched tightly to his head.
 “Who was it?” A dainty hand finds its place on his bicep, Dabi entirely unresponsive to your touch, voice quivering with panic. “What’s happening?”
 “Get Isaac,” he finally says, after a moment of prolonged silence, features deflated in disbelief, in shock—grim, grave, entirely dead with a look you’ve never witnessed before. It’s downright terrifying, sending spikes of ice searing through your skin, summoning a fierce wave of pebbled flesh in their wake. On anyone else, such a look could be accurately described as expressionless. But on Dabi...  
 “Get Isaac,” his stare finds your face, feet turning mechanically to face you, his eyes glazed with water. “We have to go,”
 “I—We—What’s going on?” Your head shakes in tiny movements, whole body beginning to shake, eyebrows knitted in confusion as an unsteady frown carves itself into your lips.
 And it’s your expression that finally snaps him out of whatever automatic reverie he had fallen into, blinking twice before warmth bleeds back into his features, comforting and familiar.
 “I’ll explain on the way,” he promises, taking your face between his palms and forcing your gaze to his. “But right now, we gotta get out of here,”
 “But...But what about Tomura,”
 And Dabi—Well, Dabi doesn’t know what to say. A tongue runs along his top teeth, sucking with force, and he swallows, Adams apple hefting with the weight of the emotion, before his head shakes in slow, regretful strokes, bottom lip beginning to wobble.
 “No,” you breathe, wide eyes searching his face. “No,”
 “We gotta go,” his voice breaks as he tells you, the command weak and frail, fragile almost, and you can see the guilt and the blame and the fault overflowing in his irises, swirling around in cobalt as they engulf pinprick pupils. “They’re on their way,”
 Head shaking vigorously, you break out of his grasp with vehemence, stumbling away a few steps. “No,”
 “Yes,” he’s saying as he advances towards you, one step forward for each of your steps back. “Baby, we have to,”
 “I can’t—I won’t—”
 “Don’t be stupid!” he snarls, jaw flexing twice, that familiar sapphire blaze finally igniting in his eyes. “You must! We must!”
 “Go without me, then,” you’re nodding in trembling, jerky motions, but he can see them, the thick layer of tears shielding your eyes; can hear the hesitance sewn into your voice and the horror stuffing your features. “G-Go,”
 “No,” he breathes. “Princess, no,” a large hand catches your wrist with ease, halting your descent, a petulant whine catching in your throat as you attempt to tug yourself free. “This isn’t—This isn’t fair to you; you should’ve never got caught up in this mess—”
 “I don’t care!” you scream, clawing aggressively at his fist. “I won’t leave him!”
 “And I won’t leave you!” he shouts, hand flexing as his grip tightens to near bone-crushing, grasp searing itself into your flesh as it ruptures blood vessels, staining his palm into your skin, painted in the most brilliant greys and violets. “I’m not leaving without you. So grab the fucking cat, and let’s go,”
 Your struggling halts suddenly, entire body going limp, tears finally escaping your lashes, streaming down your cheeks in glistening drops, leaving pretty shimmering trails in their wake.
 “Why? Why won’t you leave without me?” The words are garbled, tangling themselves around the sobs hitched in your throat. “Why?”
 “It doesn’t matter,”
 “Jesus Christ,” Turning with an exasperated huff, he gives a harsh yank on your arm, and you lean away from him, using all of your strength to keep your feet planted, pulling him back. “We don’t have time for this,”
 “Why, Dabi?”
 “Because I love you!” he finally explodes, a flash of ink and sapphire as he whirls around, seizing your shoulders and giving you a thorough shake, scorching azure searching your face, bewildered and terrified. “I fucking love you,”
 “And I love him!” The sentiment tumbles from your mouth, instinctive and automatic, before you brain can even register what just slipped from his, belatedly smacking you in the chest.
 “I don’t care,” he practically suffocates on the words, letters choked out and mangled as a pair of perfect crystalline tears roll down his cheeks, overflowing eyes shining in the gold of the morning sun. “I don’t care. I love you, and I refuse to allow him to drag you down with him. I just—I won’t fucking let it happen,”
 “I can’t,” you’re weeping into his chest as you finally collapse against him, the words shattered, the shards slicing your throat as you force them out. “I can’t, I can’t, he’s going to…He won’t be okay,”
 “He hasn’t been okay in a long time, princess,”
 His voice is so feeble, so fragile, so fractured. And you suppose….you suppose that’s true. But—
 “There’s nothing else we can do right now,” Dabi continues, voice tinged with urgency. “Not yet,”
 “Not yet?” you look up at him. “But—”
 “But we will. I promise you, baby, I promise you we will. But right now, we have to go,”
 ✰          ✰          ✰
 The Overlook Motel’s vacancy sign glows weakly in the faint daylight, sunbeams blanketed by a quilt of thick silver clouds, the last two letters flickering as they fight to stay alive. Dabi returns a moment later, idly swinging the key around his index finger, metal clattering against plastic with the repetitive action.
 Room 6 is quaint, carpeted with orange fibers and containing a single queen mattress, a small wooden table with two wooden chairs, and an old tube TV.
 The day passes impalpably, time seeming to ebb and flow like some sort of viscous liquid, alternating between thin stringy strands that drizzle themselves over your restlessly sleeping form, and thick oozing globs that trap you in their gummy clutches, stretching a singular moment into a seeming eternity as you sob into Dabi’s chest, gelatinous drops of time muffling his soothing sentiments, whispered into your hair.
 By the time the sky has faded into a star-speckled indigo your throat is raw and rough, slashed to hell by your prickly cries and spiky wails. Eyelashes stick together with each slow blink of your torrid eyes, crusty and clumped together with dry salt.
 Yet despite the dehydration pounding your brain and pulsing your temples, despite the exhaustion that has burrowed into your muscles and hollowed out your bones, you’re powerless to stop the invasive memories, so fresh they’re still dripping with paint, leaving a trail of their very essence across the expanse of your mind as they force their way through, throbbing in time with your head.
 It has you shoving your face into Dabi’s chest again, so hard it’s almost painful, smushed against strong muscle and a beating heart, eyes squeezed shut forcefully as your head shakes and your face scrunches up, fingers tangling in his t-shirt and tugging, begging; for release, for oblivion, even if it’s just a taste, even if it’s just for a moment.  
 “Please,” you’re whimpering, voice absolutely shattered, words nothing more than jagged shards that slit your tongue on their way out. “Please, Dabi,”
 “What is it, baby?” And he sounds almost desperate, eager to take that pain from you, to shoulder more of it, rough palms finding your face and gently forcing your head from it’s spot in his chest, tilting it upwards. “What is it? What can I do, princess? Let me help,”
 “Make it—Make it go away,”
“Everything, Dabi,”
 The request is broken as it escapes your lips, words cracked by the stuttered sobs hitching in your chest. “A-All of it, make it all just—just go away,” lids shutting tightly, your head shakes pathetically in his grasp, the crystal dewdrops clinging to your lashes finally breaking free, cascading down salt-saturated cheeks in glittering duos.
 And despite how much pain you’re in—so much it’s practically tearing you apart from the inside out, a vicious creature with razors for claws nestled at the core of your soul—you look so fucking beautiful; ethereal, almost, lids lifting to reveal glassy irises, the gleaming trails of water adorning your cheeks catching in the neon filtering through the window, staining your skin in the most brilliant colours—corals and fuchsias, teals and ultramarines, strokes that shift and morph as they paint your flesh in time with the intermittent flashing of the signs outside.
 A masterpiece. A living, breathing masterpiece, constantly revising, constantly changing, constantly evolving into something novel, something better, something entirely unique, chiseled by the sorrows and spirits of life itself.
 And Dabi wants to leave his mark.
 He says nothing as he crushes his lips against yours, tugging you towards him with his thumbs hooked behind your jaw.
 And you go willingly, just like the good little girl you are, allowing him to drag you into his lap, emitting a soft squeak only a moment later when he flips your combined forms, trapping you between the mattress and his body, thighs cushioning his waist as he tugs you to the edge of the bed.
 And it’s so graceful, so automatic, instinctual in a sense—perfect. A seamless dance you know by heart despite never having practiced, almost as if it’s innate to your very being, stitched and sewn into the fabric of your soul.
 A heated mouth stamps replicas of andromeda into your flesh while his fingers burn through the lace of your panties, cremating them to tattered ruins, swirls of blues and greys blotted into your skin as he bursts vessels, scattering little smatters of microscopic red spots to adorn the galaxies he creates across your body.
 Deft fingers plunge into you suddenly, and you squirm beneath him, hips pushing up into his touch, craving the calm and consolation you know Dabi can bring you.
 He hushes you gently, knuckles curling as they press into plush walls, the heel of his palm grinding into your clit with each pump of his fingers. “I’ve got you, I’m here,”
 But it isn’t enough: isn’t fast enough, isn’t full enough, isn’t ferocious enough—not enough to make you forget, not enough to make it better.
 You can feel him through dark denim, hot and hard and slotted up against your thigh, the rough material of his jeans beginning to chafe your supple skin as he ruts against you. Little hands snake between your bodies, shifting a bit beneath him as your fingers hook in his belt loops and pull, needy and desperate with another petulant whine.
 “Okay, okay,” he’s saying placidly as he removes his fingers from you, the digits immediately moving to the waistband of his pants as precious vows spill almost urgently from his lips. “I’m gonna make it all go away now, alright? Let me make it go away,”
 Head nodding in hurried little jerks, soft fingers knot in the collar of his shirt, hauling him towards you and sealing the promise with a frenzied kiss. Dabi’s lips quirk up into a lopsided smirk at your zealousness, hands busy as they fiddle with the buckle of his belt, allowing the balls of your feet to push his jeans down his thighs, effectively freeing his cock.
 “God, I love you,” he nearly keens, forehead pressed tightly to yours, breathing the words into your mouth. “I love you so much,”
 And you can’t say them back, not yet, not with those bright, searing, longing flashes of crimson and silver slicing through your mind, but that doesn’t matter. You know now, and  finally, finally that creature sheltered in his chest has calmed, is tamed, content, sated, as it snuggles into his beating heart, sharp teeth tucked away and razored claws retracted, that growling and gnashing that had become so typical, so characteristic of this entity ceasing to rattle the ribs that kept it caged. You know now, and the words twine themselves around your conjoined bodies, a protective quilt that drapes itself over your form, temporary but strong in its defence against all of the hurt and the pain and the grief, patches stitched together with your breathless little whimpers and his fractured little whines.
 “Please, Dabi,” the plead’s barely more than a wisp of breath this time, delicate and decisive, and he nods his understanding, a hand wrapped around the base of his pretty cock, velvety pink and embellished with shimmering pre-cum.
 A cry tears itself through your throat as dainty skin stretches and splits, thick cock filling your precious little cunt in one swift motion, a gorgeous groan grumbling behind his ribs.
 And yet, regardless of the pain, your bare heels are digging into the cute indents cushioning the base of his spine, pressing him closer, insatiable in your quest for more, in your desperation to drown in his flames, to burn up in his blaze, for those pretty blue flares to consume you entirely—your body, your mind, your soul itself—in search of a singular moment of relief, of reprieve from this waking nightmare, a simple longing for an instant of pure dreamy solace—and Dabi is more than happy to oblige.
 Rough palms slide down silky thighs seamlessly, startlingly gentle in their ministrations, each stroke of his fingertips against your skin painting his love across your flesh, burning as it soaks into your veins and bubbles your blood. Following the curve of your calves and the dips of your ankles, nimble fingers finally unhook your feet from around his back.
 And you just can’t help the petulant whine that breaks in your throat when he breaks the kiss; and he just can’t help chuckling at your reaction, the sweet sound wafting across your face, your starved tongue following the gust across your lips, eager for another taste of him. He gifts you with another chaste kiss; something small to tide you over, before straightening up with his feet planted firmly on the ground, hands still grasping your calves as he pushes your legs up to your chest, knees bending and nearly nudging your jaw.
 He leans back over you then, securing your folded legs between both of your chests, and your fingers yearn, sinking into fluffy ink the moment he’s close enough and curling, threading through the roots as you tug him towards you. He gives in easily enough, that special, beautiful, ever-present smile saturating his lips, a sentiment transferred to your own as you smash them together once again.  
 Tiny fingers roam the expanse of him; his hair and neck and jaw, tracing gentle lines and sharp edges, trailing down the curve of his neck and across the dips of his shoulders, over protruding bones and sleek plains of muscle, nails burying themselves in his scarred flesh.
 Burnt fingers, hardened by the flames of Zippos and the handles of knives and the triggers of guns, grip your thighs as his hips finally draw back, slow and methodical in their precise actions, halting for a second before they roll forward, languidly and leisurely, as if he’s memorizing the movements, the moments, the mewls and moans each rut into you forces from your throat, branding them into the tissues of his brain.
 He continues like this, deliberate yet unhurried, almost lazy in the way he fucks you, pace measured as strong hips draw back only to sink into you again, hard and deep, gyrating in fluid motions as fingers paw and scratch, as tongues lick and suck.
 And it’s so good, exhaling the sweetest little hisses into his mouth with each rock of his hips, staining his tongue with the most delicious, coveted sugar—a thousand little pinpricks that melt on his drenched flesh, seeping into his bloodstream and infusing it with you—his cockhead rolling against your cervix with each controlled movement, grinding against that plush spot buried deep within you with every drag out, bestowing him with another one of those precious sounds.
 Moans spill from one throat into another, high and needy as his tongue rubs against yours, soft sounds of pleasure tangling between them, within them, knotted with spit and gasps as his pace begins to quicken, those long, hard, slow strokes morphing into fast, rough pistons of his hips.
 Each thrust is powerful, each thrust is purposeful, driven by pure passion, and every pound into you knocks your foreheads together, skulls ricocheting off of one another, but you barely feel the pain, each collision sending stars to blanket your vision in perfect time with the shimmering sparks Dabi’s cock sends pulsing through your body, flares of pleasure chased by thorns of pain as they shoot down trembling thighs and skitter up arching vertebrae.
 And it’s all so much, mind voiding the events of the day as Dabi hacks into your receptors, invading your body like an intoxicatingly delicious virus, enrapturing you in spicy cinnamon and sharp nicotine and sweet hickory—all simultaneously too much and not enough.
 If you were in your right mind, you’d be ashamed of yourself, humiliated by your desperation and neediness, by your tenacity and voracity, like some sort of depraved addict vying for their next fix, never soon enough, never enough at all, greedy and selfish in your ravenous craving for more, more, more.
 Because he numbs it all, your own personal brand of novocaine, reducing the recent memories floating around in your skull to smoldering cinders, drowned out and burnt up and swallowed down by the potent mix of him flowing through your veins.
 Inked lips suck your tongue into the mouth they seal, teeth scraping against the sensitive muscle in the process, his own tongue gliding over yours with stupendous authority, forcing a submission in an instant.
 And it’s messy, lips slicked with sticky saliva, sliding and slotting together as Dabi tames your tongue, the steadily increasing ramming of his hips slamming your teeth together, perfect clacks to compliment the glorious symphony of erratic breaths and squeaking springs and muffled moans, each collision of bone twisting your combined features into winces, expressions easily eradicated by the pleasure that inevitably follows.
 A growl trembles behind his ribs and he stands again, your legs automatically loosening from their tight bend as the weight of his chest is lifted. Strong hands loop under your knees, pushing your legs to straighten as he yanks them towards him, ankles finding their designated spot on his shoulders.
 Using his planted feet for leverage, his hips brutally ram into you, rapid and ruthless in their pace, large hands still digging into the underside of your thighs as he grasps them, holding you in place.
 A loud mewl lacerates your throat, slicing your tongue as it exits, and you press a palm between your hipbones, gasping when you feel the subtle bump of his cockhead through your flesh.
 “I-I—You’re in my tummy again, Dabi,” you babble out, hand rubbing your heated flesh in smooth, rocking motions, whining when you feel it bulge again. “I can feel you—W-Wanna—Need’ta—”
 And you can barely speak anymore, senses overwhelmed by it all, by flashes of ink and whiffs of nicotine and tastes of hickory, your mind stretched thin like a piece of heated copper, pliable and submissive to its sculptor, incapable of knitting letters into words, of stitching words into sentences.
 But he knows. He knows what you need.
 And he gives it to you.
 Finally, he grants you that relief, that release, those pretty blue flames licking at your flesh as they drag you in, curling around your body like a protective cape as they draw you nearer and nearer and nearer until you’ve been embraced entirely, enticed entirely, soul combusting at the centre of his inferno.
 And it’s beautiful, this temporary destruction, this momentary pleasure that incinerates everything—all of the memories, all of the grief and the fury and the pain—to indistinguishable ash, a fine dust whisked away by the gusts of the blaze. Cinders of sapphire sear through your flesh; down your thighs and up your spine and through your heart, cunt clenching so viciously it’s almost painful as you gush around his cock, vision flooded with azure flickers and flares.
 Your body’s gone limp and lazy, mind gone dumb and hazy from it all, and Dabi leans down again, cushioning your thighs between your glistening chests and keeping you still, hips snapping once, twice, three more times before they’re stuttering to a stop, flexors pressed tightly to your ass, a broken curse spit from his mouth into yours; avid tongue weakly curling around the noise, pathetically eager to gobble up the fragments of that gorgeous sound, to swallow it down and keep it in your chest, your lungs, your heart, forever.  
 A shudder courses through his form, muscles quivering as his cock throbs violently, hips twitching in pitiful little thrusts as he stuffs you full of burning, thick cum, so much so you swear you can feel it leaking out of you, thick globs that ooze slow and lax down your ass and his balls, staining the sheets beneath you.
 And he keeps his promise, all throughout the hours of the night, diligent in his quest to make it go away.
 He fucks you until the sun begins to creep over the horizon, golden beams climbing over the city and streaming through the gaps between the concrete mammoths that border the skyline.
 He fucks you until you’re too tired to think about anything else, brain turned to thick goo, filled with nothing more than the buzz of overstimulation and the harmonies of his broken moans—your name and curses, huffed out by a heaving chest—reverberating against the walls of your skull, ringing out and rendering them endless.
 He fucks you until your pussy is raw and your thighs are sticky with fluids and your flesh is marred by swirling galaxies of navy and periwinkle and disjointed pleiades of notches and nicks, carved into your skin by sharp hipbones and gleaming ivory.
 And you look absolutely ruined by the time morning arrives, covered in evidence of him, the most immaculate masterpiece he’s ever created, sated and cradled safely in his arms.
 “Don’t leave us,” you whimper out, words sluggish as they stick to your tongue, weighted with sleep and reluctant to leave. But you need to say this, need these sentiments to be spoken, struggling against the enticing embrace of unconsciousness, tugging tenderly at the frayed edges of you mind. “Please, Dabi, don’t leave us,”
 “I won’t leave you,” he promises, the words instantaneous, conjured by veracity. “I won’t leave either of you,”
 “Never ever,” he whispers, planting a kiss to the crown of your head, and you can hear his heart, thumping strong and aggressive with anxiety—anxiety of the unknown, of the commitment—forceful beats rattling his ribs, sending tremors through his blood. He swallows against it, grits his teeth, and perseveres. “We’re going to figure this out, together, the three of us,”
 The three of us.
 As a family.
 And he means it—he truly, sincerely means it, despite how terrifying it is, despite the hefty responsibility that inevitably comes packaged with it, despite the fact that he’s never done something like this before.
 Because he wants to.
 He wants to—for you, for both of you.
 It’s only after you’ve finally passed out that he affords himself a moment to reflect on it all—the heaviness of the situation, the stress of the past twenty-four hours, his place in it all—chest stuttering ever-so-slightly with strangled sobs, gentle movements shaking your head, rocking you like some sort of grotesque broken lullaby.
 Guilt, thick and bitter and toxically acidic, unfurls at the bottom of his stomach, rooting itself in the the pit as it spreads like a terminal infection, poisoning his organs one by one, slow and torturous as it engulfs them in its suffocatingly tarry embrace.
 Slivers of smashed memories slash through his mind; of his behaviour towards you—the insults and the tears, the lies and the fights; of his behaviour towards Tomura—the anger and the envy, the dismissal and the dispassion—the full recognition of what he’s done, of the role he’s played in all of this, major and crucial, viciously burrowing through his mind.
 If only he would’ve pushed his feelings aside, all of the terror and jealousy and selfishness, and attempted to help earlier; if only he would’ve offered that hand to Tomura sooner, tried a little harder to actually be there for him like a caring friend should be; if only he had paid more attention rather than writing everything off as drug-induced and decidedly not his problem.
 If only he would’ve faced it all, full and head on, instead of running away like some sort of fucking coward for months on end.
 If only.
 But the past is the past, even if it’s only recent, even if it’s only from mere hours ago, and there’s nothing he can do to change it, to mend it, to rewrite it. He can only move forward, laden with his rightful guilt, a cumbersome burden he must now carry inside of him forever—an eternal punishment—and resolve to do better.
 And even though he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to vocalize it, to find the strength or the words or the courage to make it tangible and known and uttered aloud, he makes a silent promise to himself, here in this motel bed, with you sleeping on his chest and Tomura simmering in his mind: he won’t let these flaws and fears harm the ones he loves ever again.  
 ✰          ✰          ✰
 Keigo arrives to collect you for questioning the next day, just as the sun is beginning its descent below the horizon, intertwined wisps of fuchsia and coral smudged across a brilliant bronze sky, waning rays catching on Keigo’s hair, engulfing him in a halo of hazy gold.
 It’s downright insulting. How dare the gods play such a cruel trick, bathing this man in the most ethereal light and painting him as angelic, as saintly, when he just tore apart your entire universe with his bare hands, smiling and laughing in your company as he did it.
 Dabi isn’t fast enough to catch you, wrist slipping through his fingers as you march out the door, bare feet slapping obnoxiously against the pavement with every stomp forward, until you’re chest to chest with the devil himself, nostrils flaring with fierce, sharp breaths.
 He has the audacity to stare down at you with tears shielding his vision, a pretty crystal film that reflects the dying sunlight, that makes those topaz irises glitter like the most precious stones, and you can’t fucking believe it.
 Molars grinding together, your eyes narrow in seething, your glare positively scalding, so bright and beautiful that it has Keigo wincing from its brilliance. You’re sure the inferno raging in your chest must be reflected in your glower, blazing with such ferocity you’re sure Keigo can feel the heat of it, soaking through your skin and into his, so fiery it turns the tears in your eyes to vapour, so scorching it leaves a red-hot brand of your palm against his unmarred cheek.
 The slap is so hard, so loud, that it nearly snaps his neck, head thrashed to the side from the sheer force of it all, the ghost of the impact echoing throughout the vacant parking lot, reverberating off the brick of the motel and the metal of the Audi.
 Slowly, he turns to face you again, head rolling a little as he tries to void the sudden whiplash from his neck. Honey eyes drip with viscous tears, crystalline dewdrops of salt clinging to golden lashes, chin twitching.
 “I’m sorry,”
 The sentiment wobbles in time with his chin, Keigo choking on the last few letters, fading into nothing before the whole word’s even left his mouth.
 Your head’s shaking, small jerky movements as your nose wiggles, a thick film of water blurring your vision. And then you’re falling into his arms, fingers scrabbling against the suede of his sherpa lined jacket, a sob tearing its way out of your chest, splitting you open, raw and sensitive.
 He catches you easily, strong arms wound around your form as you wail into his shoulder, face nuzzled against the soft fleece as stinging salt stains the material and tender regrets fall from trembling lips.
 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” The string of apologies is murmured into your hair as Keigo holds you tighter, crushing you against his body.
 It doesn’t last long, though, Dabi suddenly prying you from Keigo’s embrace only a moment later, drawing you into the safety of his own grasp, and your body melts into his, instantly soothed by the comfort and the familiarity, the sanctuary and reprieve Dabi’s arms offer.
 “Alright,” he sighs out, the word deflated and exhausted as he fixes Keigo with a levelled stare. “Let’s get this over with,”
 ✰          ✰          ✰
 It rains every day of the trial, massive drops imbued with bellowing thunder that barrel down around you, rumbling against the slate roof of the stuffy courtroom—all dark woods polished to perfection and gleaming under the sterile lights—the incessant downpour providing an eerie hum to the whole ordeal, a sick sort of symphony to your combined suffering.
 And throughout it all, you and Dabi and Kurogiri sit together, your body squished between theirs, gripping their hands in your lap with bated breath and bleary eyes.
 Tomura looks better, albeit marginally, dressed in his usual knitted sweaters and expensive slacks. Some colour has returned to his cheeks, imbuing them with a healthy glow, and some weight has latched onto his bones, smoothing out those sharp edges. Those self-inflicted gashes and gouges have begun to scab over, Tomura’s nails clipped so short they barely cover half his nail bed. His demeanour remains relatively calm, sedated by the meds the doctors have been pumping into his system, familiar fury only beginning to seethe when the Chief is mentioned.
His trial is surprisingly short, aided by the matching testimonies given by you, Dabi, and Keigo, and accelerated by Doctor Sako’s preliminary diagnosis of a severe mental illness, heavily exacerbated by stress and a raging drug addiction, with possible obsessive-compulsive comorbidity. Despite its swiftness, it’s painful nonetheless, and highly publicized, paparazzi and reporters shameless in their gluttonous quest for shreds of information. In the end, Tomura’s deemed not guilty by reason of insanity, and immediately sentenced to inpatient treatment at the Tokyo Metropolitan Matsuzawa hospital.
The impact of the judge’s mahogany gavel is still echoing throughout the courtroom as Tomura seizes your face the very instant after the sentencing has concluded, crashing your lips together in a fierce kiss, so sudden, so immediate it takes you a moment to respond.
“I love you,” he’s practically sobbing into your mouth, his body leaning over the flimsy barrier separating the audience from the court as the tips of his plush fingers dig into your cheeks, glistening tears lining the seal of your lips and staining your tongue with salt. “I love you, I love you, I love you so much,”
You echo the words back into his mouth with a vicious cough, your sentiments saturating his throat as he swallows them down readily, both hands splayed on either side of your face, gripping you tightly to him. And it’s much too short, over much too soon, a yank on his elbow pulling him from your embrace and you whine, falling forward in his absence, greedy claws still vying for him as he moves onto his best friend.
A firm hand latches behind Dabi’s neck, knocking their foreheads together as Tomura holds him close, his fingertips sinking deep into Dabi’s flesh with the immense strength of his hold. But Dabi doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t seem to notice or care at all, his own fists tangled in the shoulders of Tomura’s soft sweater, grasping the material with such force that the skin across his knuckles is stretched taut, glowing ivory as bone.
Tears stream down their cheeks, drops of tiny crystals shimmering in the light, mixing and mingling as their noses nudge together, words flowing freely from Tomura’s lips, stuffed full of urgency.
“Take care of her for me,” he’s gasping, as if he can’t spit the words out fast enough, his nose bumping against Dabi’s again, dire and desperate. “Please take care of her for me, pr-promise me you will,”
“I will, Tomu,” Dabi’s vowing instantly with a tenacious nod of his head, words stammering in his chest, woven with a stuttered breath and infused with a half-stifled sob. “I will, I will, I promise you I will,”
“And please, take care—”
Those are the last words you hear, the last words he utters, before he’s ripped from your combined clutches.
✰          ✰          ✰
author’s note: check the comments for additional notes!
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bakakugo · 15 hours ago
first milestone!
first milestone event!
you thought lusting after your favorite villain online would be a harmless way to blow off steam, but what happens when you neglect your blog and they take it personally?
it was wrong, was it not? they were villains, they were dangerous, a threat. and they were fucking sexy.
you were far too embarrassed to voice out your darkest fantasies to your friends, but surely countless strangers on the internet could keep a secret?
running a nsfw tumblr blog for them was not how you pictured you'd be spending your free time, but here you were. it wasn't a fairly popular blog but there were a few loyal followers who'd keep you hyped.
in the beginning you found it charming, they were wonderful; they'd further inquire about your fantasies, occasionally share their opinion on whether or not they agree, suggest something you hadn't considered. it had your head spinning.
it was nice to know you weren't alone!
but soon enough that feeling of not being alone followed on in your real life as well. you felt like there was constantly someone tailing you. someone just slightly out of sight.
you were careful about giving out your personal information, you genuinely doubted anyone could possibly figure out it's you just from your fantasies alone. so you brushed it off.
but as it always is, life gets in the way and there were days you were just too tired to write or interact with your dear anons. tumblr was a thing of the past when the workload you had to deal with just kept increasing despite your countless all-nighters.
a little break wouldn't hurt, would it?
you found yourself shocked. your notifications were blowing up?! there were so so many messages, asks- they varied from genuinely concerned, to mildly threatening, to full on descriptions of what they'd do to you if you continued to ignore them and treat them as an afterthought.
it was too much. entirely too much. you've received occasional anon hate, accusations and hurtful names hurled at you in disgust but this was different. this was so damn different- it seemed personal.
with shaky hands, you reached for the settings so you could delete your account. you had a good run, there were pleasant memories tied to it, but it was absolutely not worth the terror it came along with.
with your heart still ringing in your ears, you let out a sigh of relief. yes. this was it. it was over.
the relief didn't last for long enough before you felt a cold hand clasp around your neck as you were pressed up against a strong chest.
"didn't i warn you?"
your blood ran cold. the person standing behind you was none other than the villain you arguably simped the hardest for.
now, in how much trouble are you?
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Choose your villain and your kinks! What type of yandere would you like them to be? Soft, demanding, desperate? 👀
I'd like to thank everyone who's supported me so far, I'm incredibly grateful and excited to keep on writing 🥰
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nocturnalazura · 3 days ago
Moonlight Love Songs | Dabi x Reader
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Dabi x Fem!Reader
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This is for @katsupeach's Fob Collab. My lyrics were "This is a love song in my own way, Happily ever after below the waist." From Bang the Doldrums. Huge thank you to @boosyboo9206 for betaing this for me!
Summary: You and Touya grew up together, even after he disappears you're still the only one who matters. That is, until he breaks your heart. But maybe the two of you were never meant to be just friends.
Warnings: 18+, minor hurt/comfort, explicit language
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The air around you is filled with the slightly drunken chatter of your fellow bar goers. You sip your drink slowly, eyes looking around the overcrowded bar for a victim. Your sole purpose for coming out tonight was to find a new play thing. A body suddenly drops onto the seat next to you, and a scarred hand plucks your glass from your hand. You keep scanning over the faces of the crowd, not bothering to acknowledge the person next to you.
“Don’t know why you bother coming here. There’s never anyone good here.” Dabi grumbles before tossing back the rest of your drink.
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Now, now, don’t be rude to your best friend, doll.”
“You haven’t been my best friend for years. Honestly, I don’t even consider you a friend.”
“Really now? That’s such a shame, considering that you know just about everything about me.” He taps the glass on the bar, holding up two fingers, and waits for the bartender to hand him two fresh glasses.
“It’s a shame that you decided to be an ass about everything and make me not want to be your friend anymore.”
“I had my reasons and you know that.”
“Doesn’t mean I approve of them.” You grumble before taking the glass from him and downing the amber liquid in one go. Standing up, you finally look at him and shake your head. “I’m over this, see you later.” “You know, you say that, but you never told anyone that I was alive, never let anyone know you knew where I was.” He says as he gets up and follows you out of the bar.
Doing your best to ignore him, you keep heading in the direction of your home. The steady sound of his footsteps behind you slowly annoys you more and more as you go. He keeps his distance, but you can feel his presence behind you every step of the way. As your apartment comes into view you pick up your pace, hoping to finally escape him. You do your best to unlock your door as fast as possible and slip inside, only for his hand to stop the door. Groaning, you give in and step away from the door, allowing him to push it open and wander into your home.
“Nice little home you got here, doll.” He grins as he moves around your living room and kitchen.
“Why are you here, Dabi? I left the bar to get away from you, not so you would follow me home.”
“Aw come on, we’re alone, you can use my name. Are you sure you really wanted me to leave you all alone? Let such a pretty little thing walk home in the dead of night?”
“Don’t act like I can’t take care of myself. I’ve been doing everything on my own since you left, so I don’t need you to take care of me now.” You hiss.
“If you don’t want me around, then why did you end up exactly where I was? Why are you still here? I gave you an out; I left and didn’t come back - you’re the one that came back looking for me, so what is it?”
“None of that matters. I’m allowed to change my mind and not want you here.”
“Why can’t you just own up to the fact that you came looking for me? You came looking for me, you’ve been here for months, and I want to know why.”
“It’s none of your business why. It was clearly a mistake and now I can’t get rid of you.”
“I want an explanation. Why’d you come back and why did you stay?”
“Because I wanted to. . . and it was a mistake, so leave me alone already.”
“Stop being a fucking brat and just tell me why you came back!” Dabi shouts, glaring at you.
The two of you stand in the middle of the room, eyes locked on each other. You can feel the heat rolling off of him as he glares at you. Neither one of you is willing to break the tense silence that swirls around the room just yet. Finally, he makes a move and takes steps until he’s standing in front of you. Bright blue eyes bore into yours as he wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you into his chest.
“I woke up and you were gone, sheet cold and everything. There was no trace of you having even been there.” You whisper, looking up at him as you fist a hand in the back of his shirt. “You showed up, gave me every reason to think you were staying and you disappeared on me. I was the one person that you were never supposed to do that too.”
“What was I supposed to do? You were the only one that knew I was alive. I couldn’t just go back home and I definitely couldn’t just pick up a life and start doing everything like a normal person.”
“But you could have stayed or taken me with you!”
“Taken you with? You wanted me to take you with me while I had nothing? No home, hardly any food, just nothing? You wanted to run around with me while I destroyed myself for years?”
“If it meant being with you, yes!”
“I wasn’t going to do that to you!”
“It shouldn’t have been your choice!” You shout, hitting his chest.
“I wasn’t going to let you decide! I know you! And I knew you would go with me no matter what I said, so I kept you safe! I left you to keep you safe.”
“I could have taken care of myself. I’m not some helpless child that you need to babysit. I’m a grown woman, Touya.”
“I care about you. I wasn’t about to take you with me and let something happen, ok? It would have killed me if you got hurt.”
“And it killed me that you left.” Staring up at him, you can’t help the small feeling of heartbreak that creeps up. The feeling of cold empty sheets haunts your dreams. And just like a shitty music video for an over played love song, you picture everything that happened that night.
The soft creek of your bedroom window pulls you from your peaceful slumber. Peeking an eye open, you watch your window be pushed open and a mop of soft white hair pop through followed by a thin partially scarred body. You watch him close the window before closing your window and turning to give you a small smile. Sitting up, you pull your knees to your chest and offer him your own small smile.
“Hi Touya.” You whisper as he crawls onto your bed and drops next to you.
“Hi, doll. Saw your parents weren’t home, so I thought I’d stop by to keep you company for the night.”
“So kind of you to stalk me.”
“You love it.”
“I put up with it for some weird reason.”
“Because you’re obsessed with me, right, doll?”
“You’re so annoying. Get out of my bed.” You giggle and push him off the side and onto the floor with a small ‘thud’.
Immediately after hitting the floor, he pops back up with a scowl and clambers back onto the bed and pins you down. Bright blue eyes glare down at you softly as Touya looks over you with minor annoyance. Without thinking, you bring a hand up and cup one of his cheeks, thumb brushing over the scars starting to creep their way up his from his jaw line. His face softens slowly as he lowers his face to yours until his nose bumps against yours. In a moment of curiosity, you tilt your head ever so slightly and Touya immediately takes the hint and lowers his lips to press them against your own.
His breath stutters against you for a moment before he applies a little more pressure to the kiss. It takes a moment, but, little by little, his lips start to move against your own, slowly taking charge of the kiss. In some ways, it feels so odd to kiss your best friend, but something, something about it feels oh so right. His body relaxes against yours, his hands start to move along your sides and slip under your shirt to touch along your bare waist. The heat radiating off of him fills you with an overwhelming sense of comfort.
“Y/n.” He whispers softly after pulling away. Blinking up at him, you smooth a hand through his hair.
“Keep going.” You breathe before kissing his jaw.
He looks at you unsure for a moment before finally leaning down and capturing your lips again. His fingers creep further up your body, inching your shirt up little by little. As you feel his hands graze over your soft skin, you fully expect it to feel odd and foreign, but something about his touch feels calming and has you craving more.
Everything happens so quickly, clothes fall into little piles on the floor. You breathe in the scent of smoke and cigarettes that just recently started to cling to him. The warmth radiating off of him feels like home and the most overwhelming sense of comfort. The way he moves against you and presses his lips to your ear to whisper a soft, “I need you. I love you.” It’s so quiet you almost miss it.
You, however, do miss the sound of him getting out of your bed a few hours later and getting redressed. Which means you also miss the soft sound of him scribbling a half-hearted goodbye note, and the creak of your window opening and closing as he does his best to walk out of your life.
*End Flashback*
“Get out.” You whisper as you unwrap your arms from him and shove him away from you. The heartbreak and pain swirls around inside you as you look up at him.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have come back. I should have avoided you. I want you to leave now.”
“Doll, come on.”
“You had no problem sneaking out of my window years ago, so you should have no problem walking out of my door right now.”
The air around the two of you is tense for a moment before he shakes his head and finally leaves, slamming the door behind him. You stand there in the middle of your living room, staring at the door as if you expect him to come back. After a few minutes of just standing there, you feel the tears burning your eyes, finally bubbles over. Letting out a loud sob, you wrap your arms around yourself. You stand there sobbing until you have no tears left.
Mustering up all the energy you have left, you drag yourself into your bathroom and turn on the shower. After the water’s done heating up, you step in and let the hot water wash as much of your pain away as possible in that moment. Little by little, the vivid colors of that night start to fade away until it nearly disappears back into its home in the dark resources of your memory. The rest of the night is slow moving: dinner, TV, and getting ready for bed. The same mundane routine as usual until you tuck yourself in bed and do your best to let sleep take over.
Just as sleep finally starts to take you, there’s a small creak in your otherwise silent room. Keeping your eyes closed tightly, you listen to the soft sound of his footsteps, and the rustle of clothing being dropped onto your floor. After another few moments, you feel the bed dip next to you as the covers are moved and a warm body wraps around you, pulling you into their chest. You stay still for a moment and let the smell of smoke and cigarettes wash over you again. A scarred hand slides down your arm and laces your fingers together.
“I know you’re awake.” Dabi whispers quietly.
“Why’d you come back?” You question at the same time.
The two of you fall into an awkward silence for a moment until, finally, Dabi speaks up. “You came back for me. I don’t know how to really do this. I’m not good at I love you’s, but I’m here, and I don’t want to just be your friend. I want you.”
“Touya.” You sigh softly before letting go of his hand and turning over to face him, his face shining in the moonlight. “I don’t want to let my guard down and have you sneak out of my window again.”
“I won’t, I promise. Leaving you was one of the stupidest decisions I ever made, but I don’t think we were ever meant to just be friends.”
“I want to trust you and I really want to believe that, but you broke my heart. You broke everything I was back then. Touya, you slept with me then snuck out of my window, never to be heard from again until I found you.”
“And that was shitty of me and I’m sorry. It’s just, fuck, Y/n. I need you. I need you in my life.” His voice cracks slightly as vulnerability creeps up onto his face, an unfamiliar softness swimming in his vibrant blue eyes.
Something about the way he looks at you in that moment shatters all of your walls. Crumbles them as if they were made of the flimsiest of materials. “You have me. I’m yours.”
There’s a certain level of hesitation that crosses his face as he looks over you until, finally, he leans, cupping your cheek and tilting your head ever so slightly. Finally, his lips press against yours in a soft kiss that feels like home again. Slowly, he rolls you over onto your back and settles himself between your legs above you. Your hands slide up his arms to rest around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. His weight rests against you as his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips. Parting your lips, you let his tongue tangle with yours as your hand tangles in black locks.
“I love you, Touya.” You whisper against his lips.
His breath stutters against you, but, otherwise, he stays completely silent. You can feel his body heating up slightly as his grip on your hips tightens. His hands slowly loosen and start to slide up your sides, inching up your shirt as he goes. Pushing him away, you sit up and pull your shirt over your head and lay back. You watch as his eyes rake over your bare chest before he sits up and lets his shirt join yours on the floor. Leaning back down, he kisses you softly and grinds his hips against yours.
The two of you quickly discard the rest of your clothing and cling to one another. Slipping a hand between the two of you, carefully, you line his tip up with your soaked entrance. Dabi quickly takes your hint and slowly pushes into you. As he bottoms out, he holds himself still, allowing you to adjust. Cupping his cheek, you pull him down into a soft kiss.
Pulling out of the kiss, you look up at him with a soft smile. “Move, Touya.”
Dabi gives you a quick nod and pulls out until only the tip remains and pushes back in slowly, allowing you to feel his piercings drag against your sensitive walls. Your arms wrap around him while you moan and rock your hips against him softly. His hips roll into yours at a slow, even pace. Sliding his hands up your arms, he laces your fingers together. Your warm walls tighten around him as he picks up the pace.
“I promise I won’t leave you again. Never again, doll.” He whispers against your neck.
“You better not. I won’t come back if you leave again.”
Dabi gives you a small smile and leans in for a soft, passionate kiss. Bringing a leg up to wrap around his waist, you allow him to sink in a little deeper. He lets out a deep groan against your lips as he rolls his hips against yours a little harder. Your head tilts back as you moan loudly as he hits all the right spots within you.
“Touya, I’m gonna cum. Please, I'm so close.” You whimper out against his neck.
He lets go of one of your hands and slips it down between your bodies to thumb over your clit quickly. “Go ahead, cum for me, doll.”
The added stimulation slowly helps to push you over the edge. Your toes curl, back arches off the bed as you cling to him while your walls clench around him. Above you, Dabi lets out a deep groan, his hips stuttering as he paints your walls white. You let out a quiet moan at the feeling of him filling you. Your hands move along his back slowly, nails gently dragging along the unscarred sections of his back. As he catches his breath, he rests his weight against you, doing his best to not crush you. Letting his head rest between your breasts, he sighs softly.
“You’re everything to me, Y/n.” He whispers against your skin.
“You’re everything to me, too.”
“So you’re done hating me finally?”
“Only because you’re good in bed.” You tease, only to squeal when he pinches your side. “Ow, jerk. Yes, I’m done hating, unless you pinch me again.”
“Brat. And I’m great in bed.” He mumbles.
Pulling out of you, he rolls over onto his back and pulls you into his side and kisses the top of your head. You curl into his side and rest your head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart eases your racing thoughts, while the heat radiating off of him lulls you to sleep. Brushing some hair out of your face, he smiles down at you before letting sleep take over. Sunlight creeps in through your window, making you want to bury your face in your pillow. As you go to turn around, you register the arm wrapped around your waist and the warm body pressed along your back. You can’t help the large smile that takes over your face as you turn around to look at Dabi’s sleeping figure. His arm tightens around you and pulls you a little closer to your chest and somehow coaxes you back to sleep.
Somehow, things between the two of you work. It’s far from perfect and, honestly, it’s a bit of a mess sometimes. At the end of the day, though, you wait for the sound of your window creaking open, boots moving across your room, and clothing hitting the floor. In some weird way, it’s turned into your perfect love song. Your heart rate picks up, and time slows every single time you hear it, because you know this time he’s not leaving before you wake up.
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despir-raven · 20 hours ago
Thinking about Dabi with a dumbification kink. Him just teasing you endlessly till your mind goes numb or edging you to the point where you're subconsciously begging him to let you cum or maybe he would just pound his cock into your cunt till your tongue is lolling out and you're just asking him for more because it feels too good
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h3ll0kittylvr · 2 days ago
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since im single and lonely i have nothing better to do than write a fluff/smut of a girl with bad past who is submissive and dabi takes her under his wing since it reminds him of his past and is more dominant .. if anyone would like it( it's already posted)
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yenyoulang · 2 days ago
♡Don’t let me choose♡
Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader
Warnings: soft Dabi, SPOILERS (Dabi’s past), probably typos, angsty feelings, mild-yandere themes (?) 
Word count: 601
A/N: I am sick with one-sided interpretation of Dabi as some sort of heartless-sadist-creep, so here we go
Annotation:  They called him a villain, a heartless killer. Dabi certainly was not the most saint of all the people, but there was something behind his creepy facade, something that remained of his past self, or so Y/N hoped.
requests are open, but there’s always a chance that I wouldn’t be able to find time for writing:(
☆ have some fun today ☆
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They called him a villain, a heartless killer. Dabi certainly was not the most saint of all the people, but there was something behind his creepy facade, something that remained of his past self, or so Y/N hoped.
When she shyly looked in his ice-blue irises, she bet it was not Dabi, who stared back at her.
That was not an indifferent and cold stare of a killer, instead it was warm and familiar, compassionate even... this were the eyes of a man she once knew, a man who used to love her, a man who was supposed to be dead.
She believed he was dead.
Was it wrong? To let him take her with him, to believe in the existence of a good side of a man, who has become a villain?
It was confusing.
The way his hand caressed her back, affectionately every night until they fell asleep, the way his brows furrowed in concern, at the sight of her quiet tears, his thumbs whipping away the wet traces on her soft cheeks... It was terrifying to realize that he was not the same caring person once outside their house, to know that the same warmth he provided to her, his quirk, was used against society...
"What's it, doll? What's on your mind again?" A low husky voice asked, once they were cuddling on his couch.
He noticed that something was bothering her, tugging on her nerves. He supposed it to be some kind of post traumatic stress, and was patiently helping her to acclimatize. He knew, that he had broken her heart in the past, but once he had her back to himself, he was not going to let that happen ever again. This is why he held her so tight yet so passionate every now and then.
"You know, you may tell me," his fingers went to shuffle her hair, massaging her scalp tenderly.
"I am... I think I am just afraid a little"  she muttered, voice muffled with his shirt as her head was rested on his chest.
"Well, what are you talking about, princess?"
The girl let out a sigh. How would he react if she told him that she was afraid of him? Likely he would not be pleased.
"It's hard to..."
"Is it because of me?" He interrupted. A hint of bitterness in his voice.
Y/N clutched his shirt tighter. This was getting dangerous.
"No," she replied almost too fast.
Uneasy silence hang among them.
"Y/N, listen... I am not going to hurt you. I thought this was obvious with the way things have been between us for the last month." If he was anger at her, he hid it very well. "I know I had... changed since our last meeting, I know that you have a right to hate me after everything. you may leave me if you want to, I would understand." he tried to remain indifferent, but a slight crack of his voice was still noticeable.
He stopped his movements. Mentally the man was ready for Y/N to stand up and leave. But she didn't.
He felt her arms snaking around him, her face nuzzling into his chest.
"Touya, I can't..." she sobbed. "I can't lose you... not again... Please, don't make me choose!" She begged.
His fingers were back in her hair, stroking them soothingly. She still saw him not for who he had become? This thought made his heart sore.
"I am not leaving ever again, darling." His calloused lips slowly kissed the crown of her head. "I love you," he whispered "And you love me, right?"
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mrs-hatake · 16 hours ago
no but like imagine y/n is married to her high school sweetheart pro hero!aizawa and their relationship couldnt be any more perfect than this. that is, until five years into their marriage when aizawa’s popularity is increasing and he is climbing up the ladder of pro heroes, made it to the top five even, so he is extremely busy.
y/n is understanding when aizawa returns home late after every mission or conference. she is forgiving when he starts missing their dates. she tries to be understanding when birthdays were forgotten and anniversaries were uncelebrated. but three years of this was too much and it’s slowly killing y/n. she is depressed and lonely. and she is frustrated because she doesn’t know how to bring this up to shouta without making it seem like she’s some clingy and obsessed wife. she bottles up her emotions and tries to plaster on a smile whenever they go to whatever hero type event she is invited to along with her husband.
however, that doesn’t last long and she soon runs into villain!dabi by accident. she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. she was at some convince store getting some junk food for another lonely night when blue flames engulf the store and in walks in a scarred man who jumps over the counter and takes out all of the money from the cash register. they lock gaze and y/n recognizes him from tv as a member of the league of villains that shouta had been trying to break down for the past year and a half.
his stapled lips stretch into a wicked grin before jumping over the counter and advances towards her, y/n not liking the hungry look in his eyes. no doubt he recognizes her as the wife of eraser head. aizawa constantly warned her to stay low to protect herself but y/n was confident no harm would come her way. she deeply regrets her stupid decision.
before dabi could do anything, police sirens pierce through the silence. dabi curses under his breath and turns to bolt out of the crime scene. but not before throwing a “see you around, doll face.” with a sleazy smirk.
needless to say, the two met again. and again. and again until it become a normal occurrence. so normal, in fact, that if they don’t run into each other for more than two days, they feel as if a piece of their heart was ripped from them.
so it’s not a surprise to anyone that the two enter a sexual relationship and neither of them have ever felt so alive before. their lives feel complete and they feel like they can take over the world.
of course, nothing is perfect. y/n still has guilt over the fact that she is constantly cheating on her husband and still refuses to moan dabi’s birth name in bed. it frustrates him to no end. so imagine how mad he gets when y/n is ditching a night she promised to spend with dabi so that she could attend a dinner at some pro hero’s mansion (pretentious pig) and acting all lovey dovey with a man she no longer loves like she did before.
dabi’s furious and he is itching stir up the pot and make sure that y/n will finally be his once and for all and gets shouta out of the picture. so as y/n is getting ready in his cheap, rundown apartment to meet with her husband (who doesn’t even bother to go the event with her at the same time as he has an interview beforehand, what a dick! thinks dabi) he tells her that he wants to take a video because she looks so ravishing in her little black dress.
y/n doesn’t think much of it and even snorts at the choice of song (a popular sound on tiktok no less) and even humors him when he presses his front to her back and she matches the sway of his hips, even gives a sultry look at the camera filming them from a lowered angle.
y/n kisses him goodbye and promises to make it up to him tomorrow and dabi could barely hide the mischievous smirk threatening to split across his face.
needless to say, the dinner party with all the heroes was boring. and poor shouta was trying his very best to entertain his wife but y/n feels awkward being around shouta after she started sleeping with dabi and the fact that he had been neglecting her for years prior to her infidelity. she’s thinking of fun little ways to make up for dabi and doesn’t notice the deep frown settling on aizawa’s lips.
when they return home, aizawa tries to be intimate with y/n by kissing her neck and telling her how much he misses her but y/n breaks free from his hold with a lame excuse that she’s tired and wants to go to bed.
hours later, when y/n is deep asleep and shouta is leaning on his elbow as he watches his wife sleep, his fingers gliding across her arm, hidden by long sleeved pajamas (which was odd since she normally slept in tank tops) and is thinking about the odd change in behavior of his wife when his phone buzzes on the night stand.
he reaches over and his eyebrows pinches at the message he read.
trouble in paradise?
shouta decided to ignore it, assuming it was a wrong number, when the next message has his eyes widen.
she’s cheating on you
is she really?
shouta glances at his slumbering wife and he is about to reply to the person on the other end, demanding who this person is and how dare he accuse his wife. even though a tiny voice at the back of his head whispers to shouta that, maybe y/n is cheating on him. it would explain why she would always ignore his phone calls and would return home late on those rare nights he’s some early. sure, he assumed it’s because he’s just so busy that y/n is probably spending her time with family or a new hobby. but cheating? that’s a stretch.
aizawa receives another message and this time it’s a video that makes his blood freeze.
(imagine this is them in the video lol)
shouta’s heart painfully wrenches and his stomach churns. theres ringing in his ears and his vision blurs.
and dabi.
the villain he’d been trying to capture for the past year and a half, dancing together.
the next three messages come simultaneously.
the first picture is of dabi standing behind y/n with his scarred arm wrapped around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder as they both stare into the phone y/n is holding in front of the mirror.
the next is another picture of y/n kissing dabi’s cheek as the younger man scrunches his face, pretending to dislike the affection he is receiving.
but the third message, the last one, killed shouta.
it’s a video of y/n, his wife, who is naked on her back as she is getting fucked out of her mind. her smile is loopy, her hair is messy and her voice is whiny. an appearance of y/n he is all too familiar of.
“who do you belong to?” dabi’s voice could be heard in the background.
“yoouu~” y/n mewls, her breasts jiggling with every harsh thrust from dabi.
“you’re mine.” dabi grunts. “say it.”
“i’m yours! no one else’s but you, dabi!” and y/n comes with a cry of dabi’s name. she looks straight at dabi, and shouta holds back the sob that’s threatening to break because of the love and devotion filling y/n’s eyes. a look which he had been on the receiving end of for years.
aizawa quickly closes the messaging app, shuts off his phone and walks out of the apartment door. he needed to clear his mind before he did something stupid like hunting down dabi and killing him on spot.
he’d deal with y/n later.
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