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cruspy · 2 years ago

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pretty white dress

BadBoy!Dabi x Innocent!Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: You're shelving books like normal at work when a new face comes into the store. And in a small town where everyone knows each other, a new face really stands out. Especially when it's one that makes you burn in ways you never have.

Warnings: nsfw, fluffy, and a smidge of angst content; lots of dirty talk, sexual tension, virgin!reader, reader has a praise kink, bit of humiliation/dabi mocks the reader, dabi really fucking likes messing and teasing with the reader like all the time, semi-public foreplay & almost getting caught, fingering, clit & nipple play, oral (both receiving), multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, smidge of overstimulation, dabi likes to bite the reader sometimes, choking, dabi's sweet sometimes, and first time sex for reader/dabi has a virginity kink

Word Count: 19k

A/N: Bad boy Dabi has taken over my thoughts. I would absolutely die for this man.

Dabi’s eyes were sharp—they always were. He was always observing, studying his surroundings like he was waiting. For what, you never knew. But he was always watching. And he watched you.

It started when he came in the first time. He was with friends, but he wasn’t paying them any mind. He was looking around the bookstore—at the other customers, the employees, and occasionally the books. He didn’t hold much interest in those his friends approached. But when they passed the horror section, his focus shifted.

You hadn't intended to stare, but you were shelving books at the other end of the bookcase, and he'd caught your eye. Dark clothes, dark hair, piercings that littered his features. Blue eyes that seemed to hold a world of mystery behind them and a smile that absolutely killed.

And when he glanced up and caught you staring, he aimed that wicked grin right at you.

You felt like you belonged in a vampire novel, dressed in some sheer white nightgown as the vampire love interest got ready to devour you.

Then he winked, and the stomach-twisting, skin-tingling reaction you felt was deep.

You were the first to look away, forcing yourself to return to work. Overly aware of how your hands shook, you took a steadying breath as you shelved book after book. But in the corner of your vision, you caught him picking up a book and pretending to read the back cover. But his eyes kept flickering back to you. His gaze was too hot to not notice. It felt like flames trickling down the back of your neck.

"(Y/N)!" Your manager said in your ear, and you jumped, almost pulling the little communicator earpiece out. "Can you hop on register? We're backed up a bit here."

You had to take a moment to catch your breath. For some unknown reason, you stole a peek at the dark-haired customer and he seemed personally amused at your reaction. Your cheeks burned as you glanced down at the cart and pressed the little button on your communicator.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You pushed the cart as out of the way as you could manage and tried not to move too awkwardly to the front.

You were secretly grateful you'd been called up—you weren't liking how hot it was starting to feel in that row. Being behind the register helped satiate the tingling in your chest. Until you got the line of customers down, blinded by each person walking up to you before you could even flag them down. And then, when you glanced up to help the next person, the dark-haired stranger was standing right in front of you.

“Hi,” you muttered—all your subconscious customer service script out the window.

“Hi,” he purred. Purred. He handed you his book, his fingers covered in silver rings.

You looked down at it and momentarily forgot you were supposed to ring it up. A horror book, a title you recognized only from having just shelved a copy. Mentally slapping yourself, you cleared your throat and scanned the barcode.

“Uh, do you have a rewards card with us?”

“No, I’m new to town.” His hand rested on the counter and he drummed his fingers.

"Would you like to sign up for one?" You inhaled shakily. "I can do it for you right now or you can sign up later online. It's a fifteen-dollar annual charge."

“Next time.”

“That works.” You nodded a little too much. “Want a bag?”

“Sure.” He gave you a small smirk and you felt it in your chest.

"Okay, can do. Uh, that'll be nineteen dollars and eighty-five cents. Will that be cash or card?"

"Cash." He passed you a twenty and you muttered a thank you, fumbling with the change as the drawer opened. You were out of nickels so you had to either open a roll or go for pennies. With how nervous you felt, you opted for pennies. Until you dropped two of them after you'd closed your drawer and sighed.

“Sorry,” you murmured and fell to your knees, fumbling to find the two that fell. Attempting a laugh, you got them and stood, giving him a tight smile as you passed him his change.

“Don’t worry about it.”

His fingers grazed yours, and it was a striking contrast of warm skin and cold metal—it made your heart race. You almost jerked your hand back at the contact, but you seemed frozen in place until he pulled his hand away.

“Thanks.” You slid his receipt into the cover of his book, then his book into the bag, and pushed it towards him. “Have a good day, sir.”

His eyes dropped down to the apron you wore as he took his bag. “You too, (Y/N).”

You bit your lip as you watched him leave, standing behind the register even when there were no customers left waiting. Five minutes—it was a total of five minutes between seeing him in the little aisle and at the register. And you felt too hot, and your heart was beating too fast.

Your manager had to dismiss you before you collected yourself to go back to your cart. The rest of your shift flew by because you kept thinking back to the dark-haired stranger with the really blue eyes and the silver jewelry and the wicked smile.

The desire to know more outweighed the nerves of meeting new people. And it was only the desire to know more—nothing else.

Unfortunately, working at a bookstore meant you might not see him again for a while. So by the time you woke up for your shift the next morning, your hopes had dwindled. He was just another customer—someone you’d maybe see again in a month. He probably wouldn’t even remember you if he did come back.

So you worked your whole shift telling yourself he wasn’t coming in. You weren’t going to see him again. He bought one book, he probably wouldn’t be back until he finished it. And if he was a slow reader, that could be weeks or months. If at all.

A small part of you wished he'd still come in, and you subconsciously kept glancing towards the entrance. But he didn't come in. Not that shift, not the one the next day, and not the one the day after that. Thankfully, you had more luck focusing on literally anything else on your day off. You baked, procrastinated cleaning, read, and then grabbed dinner and a movie out of town with friends.

It was a good day—it was nice. And then you were back home, asleep in bed and readying yourself to wake up for your next shift.

You were tired. More tired than you liked for what was going to be a nine-hour shift. You went from shelving books to hopping on register the whole time—it was too much walking for how much you wanted to be at home and in bed.

By hour eight, you were shelving books a little too slowly, tired of pushing the cart, so your manager put you on register. It was slow enough that you got to stand there and just unwind. Until you had to make yourself look busy, so you turned around and adjusted the magazines and books that were kept for display behind the counter. It was pointless trying to make it look perfect; nobody ever bought them. But it passed the time.

“Little to the left,” a voice said behind you and you jumped, spinning around and seeing those pretty blue eyes. He was holding up—unexpectedly—a book. “Hi again.”

“Hi,” you breathed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be…uh. Sorry. Let me get you checked out.”

He handed you his book and you scanned it, trying your best not to show your excitement at seeing him again.

"Did you sign up for the rewards program?" You slid his book into a bag, and he shook his head.

“Nah, forgot.”

"You know it does save you a fair bit of money." Most times, you would've just waved the customer along—they weren't interested, and your manager wasn't around for you to push the card. But you wanted to talk to him more. "Want me to sign you up?"

“Next time.”

You nodded and totaled the order. “That’s what you said last time.”

He handed you the cash and shrugged. "You remember that interaction pretty well, don't ya." The implication went unsaid and your cheeks flushed.

“We don’t get a lot of new faces—so the new folks tend to be more memorable.” It was the best cover you could come up with and you made his change. “Here you go, sir.”

“Dabi,” he said as he took the change. “Let you put a name to this new face.”

“Well, welcome to town, Dabi.” You held out a hand, leaning over the counter as smooth as you could manage.

Dabi smirked and took your hand, giving it a firm shake. “Thanks.”

His hand lingered in yours, just as his glittering eyes and devious smirk did, and the sound of footsteps made you jerk it back. Fraternizing with the customers could get you in trouble. You rolled your shoulders and put your hands on Dabi's bag, pushing it towards him as your manager walked up behind you, moving to take a till from another register.

Dabi cocked a brow as his eyes went from you to your manager, following them as they started to leave.

“Uh, have a good evening, sir,” you muttered and Dabi’s eyes finally went back to yours.

“Yeah.” He took the bag. “You too.”

You watched him leave yet again, wishing you hadn't been stuck behind a register so you could talk to him a little longer. But you were stuck there, your heart racing as he stole a glance back at you and winked.

That night, when you got home and fell asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow, you got another glimpse of Dabi. It was nothing more than him coming up behind you at the bookstore, reaching over your shoulder for a book. His chest pressed against your back and he cocked his head to the side as he read the back blurb.

"Interesting," he breathed beside your ear. He turned the cover over but in its place was a mirror, showing your reflection. He rested his chin on your shoulder as he looked into the mirror. His mouth grazed your neck and his eyes were a sharper, devilish blue as he looked at you. "Like what you see?"

You woke up as you felt his hand slide onto your waist.

Shaking your head and running your hands over your face, you got up and got ready for the day.

You saw him four more times after that. That day, the next, and twice a few days later. Three consisted of him coming to your register or the one next to it. The one time he didn't, your coworker was riddled speechless and stuttered through their words worse than you did.

Each of those three times, he said hello, goodbye, and see you later. You tried not to get your hopes up that maybe he wasn't just coming to your register because he liked you as a cashier. Or that his smiles were just him being polite—the same way yours were for every other customer. Which was why you tried your best to differentiate it.

Although it wasn't hard to do whenever you got a little shy when he came around. He made you nervous in ways you weren't used to but secretly liked. He was handsome, he was a person you hadn't known all your life, and he drove you absolutely wild in ways you didn't even let yourself explore behind closed doors.

You just hoped the flirting was reciprocated, and it wasn't you embarrassing yourself every time he came in.

But then the fourth time rolled around, and you found him getting a coffee from the small cafe the store had. He glanced up as you pushed a cart from the back, and he smirked as your eyes locked.

“Hi.” You stopped beside him as he sauntered up. There was still a ways to go to the horror section, but Dabi was right there. “You either must really neglect your books, or you're a very fast reader with how often you come in here."

“I wonder.” He nodded at the cart. “Where you headed?”

“Horror.”

“Care for some company?”

“Sure.”

Dabi walked beside you, occasionally sipping his drink until you got to the section. He hung back a bit as you set the cart in place and started to do what you were supposed to. But it was hard when every time you walked by Dabi, his eyes glanced up and watched you.

"It's neither." He peered over his shoulder as you grabbed another group of books from the cart, and you stopped, brows furrowed.

“What is?”

“Why I come to the bookstore.” He put the book back and his mouth tipped into a smirk. “I like the company. Far better than any book.”

Your entire body burned as Dabi's eyes slowly dropped down to your mouth. He didn't even move—all he was doing was looking at you and looking damn good while he did it—and it went directly south. A twisting sensation was building and you realized you were breathing a little too quickly.

“Yeah, I’m finding I like the company more these days than normal.” You bit your lip and Dabi tipped his chin up.

“(Y/N).”

You jumped as the manager on duty for the afternoon came up beside you, looking between you and Dabi. He was significantly more strict than the other managers, and you cringed. You didn't want any marks—you were a good worker, you'd proved that the past three years you worked there. But he was strict.

“You shouldn’t be fraternizing on the job. We have an upkeep to maintain, you know this. Don’t make me remind you again.”

“Right. Sorry, sir. I—”

“She’s helping me find a book.” Dabi wasn’t a big guy—his frame was lean and if he was toned, it was hidden under his dark coat and clothes. But he took up space and dominated it like a bigger person would. He gave the manager a sickening smile. The innocence looked wrong on him. “Didn’t mean to steal her away.”

There was a pointless challenge issued there. Either cause a scene and call Dabi out on the lie—which would also anger a customer—or just accept it and move on. The manager went with the latter, nodding and telling you to carry on.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you grabbed more books to shelve. “But I appreciate it.”

“I’m aware. You weren’t going to, so I figured I should.”

“I wasn’t going to what? Lie?”

"Oh, don't tell me you don't lie." Dabi gave you a skeptical look, and you frowned.

“Not when it isn’t necessary. Lies stack up. Besides, I panicked. I’ve worked here long enough for them to know I don’t break the rules.”

"Ever?" His eyes widened, and he scoffed. "You don't break the rules here?"

“I…don’t usually break rules.” You glanced away. “I don’t like being a troublemaker.”

Dabi nodded, stepping closer, his finger dragging along the shelves until he was right beside you. He pretended to look at the spines of the books, angling until his shoulder touched yours.

“You’re a goody-two-shoes.” He chuckled under his breath and you latched onto it. “That’s adorable.”

“I am not.” You narrowed your eyes—the books were out of order on the shelf. “It’s just easier avoiding conflict. Besides, I’m like the best employee here and everyone knows it. I like that.”

“Oh.” Dabi’s smirk deepened. “So you like to be praised.”

“I didn’t say that. No, see, it’s about proving my worth—”

"Uh-huh." Dabi leaned a little closer and your hands twitched as you rearranged the books to the correct order. "So, let's say I'm your manager and I notice you handled a difficult customer well. You wouldn't like it at all if I pulled you aside and praised you for it?"

Your chest felt a little tight at the thought, making it hard to speak.

"Little hard to imagine you as my manager. Don't know if you could pull off the apron." You purposefully put some space between you, going back to get more books as the air turned hot and got unreasonably thicker.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

When you returned, it was only about an inch away from Dabi, and he turned his back to the shelves, leaning against them casually.

“If I pulled you aside and said ‘you handled that well, atta girl,” you wouldn’t like it?” He tilted his head towards you, his eyes glinting as they met yours. “Or maybe you’d prefer ‘good girl’ instead.”

You dropped the book you were holding and Dabi smirked as you frantically went to pick it up.

You couldn’t speak for a few moments—the man had stolen the ability. With your heart ready to burst from your chest and a growing desire between your legs that ached for something to satiate it, you were fighting a losing battle. And Dabi knew it. The wicked smirk he gave you was like he could practically read your mind.

So you tried to hold your ground.

“I’d say it’d be condescending.” But you weren’t a liar. “From my other managers. I think from you, I could make an exception.”

"So then you admit it." He reached up and turned you to look at him, his fingers lightly grazing your chin and then your jaw. "You like to be praised."

“Fine,” you muttered, breath stolen. “Maybe I do.”

“Loves praise, doesn’t lie, and hates breaking the rules.” Dabi scoffed and pushed himself up from the bookcase. He leaned close and his fingers skimmed down your neck. “What a good girl.”

He was halfway down the aisle when you finally took a breath. It was shaky and you felt the twisting need rip all the way through your body as you watched him leave.

“You work tomorrow?” He spun, eyes dragging over your frame.

“Twelve to eight.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You’d never looked forward to a shift more.

Even if the current one took an eternity to end. It was annoying trying to work when all you kept doing was replaying Dabi’s words. You could get drunk off of him calling you good girl. It sounded really good coming from him. From anyone else, you’d cringe or even snap back. But his stuck with you into your dreams where he whispered it over and over. Nothing was even happening—it was just him telling you how good of a girl you were for him.

Then he was there the next day at one, buying another coffee, finding you at your cart. His eyes looked bluer, and he'd changed his piercings out—still silver like his rings, but sword and skull earrings hung from either ear and he'd painted his nails black.

He slid up behind you, stealing the book that was right over your shoulder. It was a romance novel and you almost laughed had he not spoken first.

“Afternoon, good girl. Sleep well?”

He had to be a mind reader.

“Fine. And you, fine and loyal customer?”

“Slept great.” He sat the book back and leaned against the shelves again. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“Should I give you my schedule? I can let the store know I have an official stalker.” You tried your best teasing smile, but you were still recovering from his good girl greeting.

“Schedule would work, sure.” He met your gaze. “Wanted to see if you were free tomorrow evening.”

You sat the books down and bit your lip, desperately trying to control your heart. “And why would you want to know that?”

"New in town. Was hoping you could show me the best place to visit."

“There are a few places I could show you.” You sucked in your cheeks and went back to shelving. “Don’t know if any of them are your style, but I know some places.”

“Dinner then. Meet me here at six.”

“Here?” You looked around the store. “You want to meet here?”

“Well, I want to drive you.” He pushed up and walked around you. “But I don’t want you to think I’m actually stalking you.”

“Fine, dinner.” You were trying to hold back your smile. Dinner didn’t mean it was a date. “Wear something nice. Just in case.”

“Deal.” He raised his cup as he backed out of the aisle. “See you tomorrow night.”

"Yeah, see ya."

Excitement roared through you, and you almost dropped the next set of books you picked up. You had a potential date with Dabi. A date with Dabi! You weren't usually someone who squealed from happiness—at least not in public—but it was a fight not to do it a few times at work. Every time the thought came back to you, you wanted to jump for joy.

Actually getting to spend time with him outside of work was insanely exciting. Yeah, there was the worry you wouldn't get along or there wouldn't be any chemistry. But that was low on your list of concerns, considering how just the one conversation stuck with you until you went home and went to bed.

There was also the worry that Dabi only wanted one thing from you—but he wouldn't have come back day after day just for sex. Or he was just extremely dedicated. Now that thought stayed with you, but not in the ways you'd been expecting. You'd been on dates where your partner expected sex. But those were always bad dates. They lasted one or two times, they were awkward, and way too heavy-handed.

You weren’t against sex or a one-night stand, but all the prospects had been so…uninspiring. Boring.

There was no spark.

And you needed a spark. A spark ensured a sort of insurance for your insecurities. But Dabi didn’t need to know about those, not until you got to the money shot. If at all. You could try and fake it—probably.

If there was a spark—and you were fairly certain there was going to be—you had nothing to worry about. Even if that’s all Dabi wanted. You weren’t that old-fashioned.

You couldn’t find anything to wear. You ransacked your closet trying to find something that was just right, but there was nothing. It was already three, and you'd gone through so many different outfits you were going to drive yourself insane. If you weren't already there.

So you bit the bullet and drove to the closest clothing store—a small boutique about five miles away that had an assortment of different clothes. They were in the middle of restocking when you got there, making their sizes extremely varied from item to item, and the few things you did find and like weren’t in your size.

Not the black romper or the purple blouse or the flowy red skirt.

But then there was a little white sundress. The sales clerk that you'd managed to bond with during the extent of your time there—it was just the two of you in there, after all—held it up. You came out of the dressing room with a frown, dissatisfied with the previous ill-fitting items when she held up the sundress.

"How about this?" She handed the spaghetti strap dress to you and you eyed it carefully. You'd intended on taking Dabi to a hole-in-the-wall Italian joint—white clothes didn't always go well with red sauce—but the dress was really cute. "My girlfriend swears by sundresses for date nights—they're easy to dress up or down. Guess I do too because she always rocks them."

"Let me try it." You smiled, slipping back behind the curtain.

It was a little tight in places but it was the places you could get away with that. Specifically in the chest, and since it was slightly low cut, it accentuated your cleavage. It hugged your figure a bit along your torso and flowed out around your hips. And when you spun, the skirt flared beautifully.

It was a bit see-through, though. You were wearing pale pink underwear and it was very clear what color they were. So you led with that when you stepped out, the sales clerk beaming when she saw you.

“That’s it, that’s the one.” She held up her hands. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make a sale—that dress just looks damn good on you.”

"Yeah but…" You angled your hip forward and the sales clerk pursed their lips.

“Got any white underwear at home? You should be fine with that.”

“I don’t.” You owned about every color of underwear under the sun except white.

“One sec, hold on.” She ran into the back for a minute, and when she returned, she was holding a white bra and underwear set that made your cheeks burn. “Now, it’s a little spicy, but…if you look good underneath, your confidence will, too."

“Alright, let me try it on.”

You ended up getting the set. The bra had a bit of a push-up effect, accentuating your chest even more in the dress. And the underwear was a sheer and thin lace, so when the fabric fell over you, even under direct lighting, there weren't lines or any color sneaking through. If you pulled the skirt back, though, the little bow on the front was visible. But odds were that wasn't going to happen, so you paid it no mind.

You slid on some black strappy sandals and grabbed a red purse to carry your stuff. A glance in the mirror showed that the sales clerk hadn’t just been hyping you up for a sale. You looked damn good.

You looked damn good and you had a night planned to prove it to Dabi.

Excited and practically bubbling over with excitement and nerves, you drove over to the bookstore, slipping out of your car just a few minutes before six.

Dabi was already there, waiting outside the front, and you swallowed your nerves as you approached him. He wore his black dress-shirt way too well. Dressed in all black, he looked like the vampire version of him that you'd thought of the first time you saw him. The skull-themed rings and jewelry did nothing but accentuate that image in your mind.

And you wore the white dress and all.

“Wow.” He pushed up from the wall, hands sliding out of his pockets. “I wondered what you looked like outta that apron, but my imagination did not do you justice. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Your body flushed. “You look good too.”

“So tell me,” he murmured as he sauntered up to you. “Where am I taking you tonight?”

"Let's go, and I'll show you."

Despite Dabi being a man of few words, the small talk was fairly easy as you walked to his small car. A small black four-door with a navy and gray interior. You sat comfortably in the passenger seat, even if the small space put you close to Dabi, your eyes occasionally dropping to where his hand rested on the shifter. His thumb ran over the leather knob and you were scaring yourself with what that did to you.

“Left here,” you blurted after staring a little too long at it. “And you can park in the small parking lot on the right.”

Luckily, Dabi liked Italian. So you’d picked well. He got your door for you, which surprised you, and his hand went to your back as you walked towards the entrance. He whispered after you as he opened the front door and you smiled at the hostess. It may have been small, but you’d called ahead and set a reservation just to be safe. Dabi grinned behind you, hand returning to your back, acting as the only physical contact he’d given you so far.

And you wanted more.

It was sort of awkward when you got seated. You were at a two-person table in the corner, setting it up to very clearly look and feel like a date when you hadn't discussed the nature of the outing. But Dabi seemed unbothered, looking over the menu silently and ordering easily when the waiter took your drink order.

The conversation wasn’t bad, but you were overly aware of how hard you were trying to not come off as an excited interrogator. You wanted to know more about him, but you didn’t want him to feel like you were asking for his life story. But Dabi answered the questions with a sly smile each time.

He was in town for college. It was cheaper to stay with a friend locally and drive to the campus than paying for all the on-campus amenities. He tutored students in chemistry on the weekends, and worked part-time on campus some days. He lived on the other side of town, and he'd moved in two days before you met at the bookstore, his friends showing him around.

“I was told that was the only spot worthwhile on this side of town.” He sipped his drink. “Glad I listened to them.”

His eyes were darker under the romantic lighting of the restaurant. And they were doing things to you that you couldn’t explain.

"So, is this where you take all your dates?" He cocked a brow when another worker walked by and said hello to you—marking the fourth time someone there had greeted you by name.

“No, no. It’s just close to my house and I like the food.” You held up your hands, the words stammering out. It was hard to ignore Dabi—whether purposefully or accidentally—referring to himself as your date. “I swear, I just eat too much takeout.”

Dabi grinned and sat back as his plate of noodles was set in front of him. You mimicked him as your own was sat down.

“Besides, I don’t really date anymore.” You nodded as the waiter added some fresh Parmesan to your dish. “Kinda hard to in a small town like this. I tried it, it didn’t work out, so I stopped.”

“Oh, so I’m a special case.” Dabi’s grin widened.

“You…” You bit your lip and peered up at him. “You are a special case. I actually like spending time with you.”

Dabi’s eyebrows raised and you sat up a bit straighter.

"Wait, that came off more pretentious than I intended." You sat your fork down. "That's not what I meant. No, the previous guys I went out with just weren't…compatible. There wasn't that spark or attraction and then when there was, it was minuscule and they tried way too hard to act on it and so they kinda shot themselves in the foot."

“How’d they manage that?” Dabi sat back and tipped his chin up.

“What?” You blinked at him, fork half raised to your mouth.

“You said they shot themselves in the foot.” He took another sip of his drink. “I’m curious how. I’d hate to repeat their mistakes.”

Your mouth closed around your fork, and you chewed slowly, buying yourself some time. That wasn't talk you typically did in a small restaurant where there were others around you. Granted, not all the tables around you were occupied, but it still felt weird discussing it in such a public place.

You swallowed the bite and wiped the corners of your mouth with your napkin.

“They were…overzealous about…” You opened and closed your mouth. You weren’t against telling Dabi, but from past experiences, the thought of it made anxiety twist in your gut. “Behind closed doors stuff.”

Dabi looked utterly amused by your wording. “So they expected sex.”

“Yes. No.” You could cook on your cheeks they felt so hot. “I don’t mind that, it was that they turned into this white knight, overconfident version of themselves when they found out that I’m…”

You couldn’t exactly blurt it out as your waiter walked by or the hostess sat a family nearby. But you didn’t have to. The recognition on Dabi’s features set in and nerves settled in you. His smile never faded and neither did his amusement. There was a hint of surprise, but that was all he gave you as he took his next bite.

“So you really are a goody-two-shoes.” He grinned when you choked on your drink. “Nothing wrong with having standards.”

“Hey.” You sat your fork down. “It’s not like I’m protecting it like some fragile flower. I just want it to be with someone where I’m not trying to pretend there’s an attraction.”

“Well, attraction will make it easier.” Dabi gave you a knowing smirk and you crossed your legs. “As I’m sure you’ve discovered with yourself.”

When you can’t muster up a response, Dabi sat up and that’s when the surprise really took over.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never—”

“Sometimes.” You had your eyes fixed on your plate and moved what little remained of your food around. “Just not…often.”

The waiter came back and when they asked for dessert, you both declined. Your stomach was in knots so you weren’t sure you could handle more food. Dabi, you assumed, probably had his focus shifted on something else entirely.

"I'm not…experienced…in that department," you said softly when your waiter left to get the check. You hated how it made you feel, and this was where every guy had overshot. Determined to teach you everything or tell you to sit back and relax, they'd rock your world for you. "Kind of hard to be when everyone here is nosy. Can't buy anything without someone else knowing, and can't go on any dates without guys getting way too cocky about…it.”

Dabi nodded, staying silent as the waiter came back. You tried to cover the check, but Dabi stopped you, throwing a fifty down. He didn't say anything until the waiter took it and left.

“You’re insecure about it.”

That hit you right in the chest and you bit back your response until Dabi got his change, a tip was left, and you rose from your seats. You walked a little stiffly from your table until Dabi’s hand found your back again. It stayed like that until you left, walking towards his car in the empty parking lot.

"I'm embarrassed." You settled into his passenger seat, and he started the car. The cool air from the vents felt nice against your skin. "Not the being a virgin part, but what's come with that."

“The right partner won’t care about that.”

“I know. Hence the need for a spark.”

Dabi put his car into reverse, and you watched his hand on the shifter. Again.

“Like there is between us?” He glanced over and you met his gaze with a panic.

“What?”

"Earlier, you said 'the previous guys' never had the spark." His smirk was evil. “I read between the lines.”

It was dangerous territory to navigate. You weren't sure what Dabi was implying. Because if the feeling was one-sided, you weren't sure if you'd survive the embarrassment. You barely were about discussing your lack of a sex life. If Dabi felt nothing towards you after the dinner and was getting you to spill all your secrets like this, you'd crawl into a hole and never come out.

You also didn’t want to imply you were only going out with him to finally get laid.

"You…there's…" Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you studied his profile. "You're one of the few customers I don't hate seeing regularly."

“Ouch, just a customer?” Dabi reached over and fixed one of your straps as you shifted in the seat. “And here I thought I’d at least been upgraded to a date.”

His fingers against your shoulder were almost too much. It was such an innocent touch but it went straight between your legs and you pressed your knees together. It was supposed to be subtle but the way Dabi's eyes shot down to your lap told you he was extremely aware of it.

Unable to hold his gaze when he glanced back from the road to you, you looked out the window. You recognized the ride back to the bookstore, and a portion of you felt disappointed—he was ending the date. You’d had a few other ideas in mind, but it seemed dinner was enough.

And then his hand fell to your thigh, just below your hem, hand burning hot against your skin.

Your legs parted subconsciously and Dabi absolutely fucking grinned.

His thumb ran light lines along your inner thigh, and his hand shifted up just barely and caused your dress to bunch a bit. You couldn't take your eyes off it. He was so close yet still frustratingly far from where you were getting wetter by the second.

“You are,” you said when you realized you hadn’t responded. “Upgraded to a date.”

“One with a spark?”

Your exhale was shaky.

“Yeah, one with a spark.”

Dabi parked a few spaces away from your car—it was near the back of the lot where employees typically parked. His hand moved to put his car in park, and you immediately missed the contact.

"So, if I asked about seeing you again this weekend, you'd be interested?"

“I work until three Saturday and close Sunday, but yeah. I’m interested.”

“After work Saturday, then. I’ll pick you up.”

“You going to take me out in my work clothes? I don’t know if jeans and a polo are date appropriate.” You chuckled softly. “It was a struggle finding an outfit for tonight. I had to buy a whole damn set just to wear under this dress.”

Dabi’s breath hitched and his eyes dropped from your chest to your lap.

“Did you?”

“The dress is very see-through,” you muttered. He was practically undressing you with his eyes and you flexed your thighs. His hand wasn’t there to stop you and Dabi’s eyes narrowed.

He took a deep breath. “Saturday. Meet me at the old theater in town at four. I won’t make you sit through a movie in your uniform.”

It wasn’t a dismissal, but the topic change was obvious enough to tell you what Dabi was thinking about. It was no secret to yourself that part of the reason you agreed to buy the set was because you hadn’t dismissed the thought of Dabi seeing it.

And you really wanted Dabi to see it.

“Wanna see it?”

Your breathing was quick and Dabi’s hands tensed on his steering wheel. When he said nothing, you moved your hands to the bottom of your dress and started to lift it. The setting sun was coming through his windshield directly over you, and it was hard to ignore how that light basically acted as a spotlight right on your lap. Meaning whatever the lace pretended to cover in the shadows wouldn’t be.

But Dabi grabbed your wrist just before you could flash him.

“I do, but not here.” He peered up as a group of people walked by, bags of books hanging from their hands. “I want to be the only one to see it.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t even noticed the people and you looked away. The thought of them almost seeing made the embarrassment double and you let go of your skirt.

“Wear it Saturday.” His other hand came up and cupped your jaw. “This dress, too. Can you do that for me?”

“You want me to wear this again?” Your eyes dropped to his mouth and Dabi smirked.

There was a pause before he leaned forward and closed the gap, his mouth pressing against yours. His smirk remained when you gasped against his lips, and his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You'd made out with someone before, but it'd always been so desperate on their behalf. This wasn't that. This was slow and deliberate. Like he knew each second his mouth was on yours, how his tongue touched you, how his hand slid down over your jaw and to your neck, made you want to squirm.

No, you were squirming. Moaning a bit, too.

You crossed your legs to try and satiate the growing pressure and it took all of a second for Dabi’s hand to fall to your knee.

“Open them,” he practically commanded against your mouth. When you didn’t immediately comply, he repeated himself. “Open your legs, (Y/N).”

You did, and Dabi swerved at the same time, mouth trailing down your neck. His teeth grazed your jugular as his hand slid up your thigh. But he didn’t touch you—he stopped short. You had to bite back the whine you almost let out, on the verge of begging for him to touch you.

“How inexperienced are you?” He pulled the strap of your dress to the side and kissed along where it’d been.

“I…” You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say. It also wasn’t easy to say when he had you wound so tight that you thought you were going to burst if he didn’t touch you. “I’ve done some stuff.”

"I need specifics." He lifted his head and kissed beneath your ear. "Like if I were to sneak my fingers into that pretty cunt of yours right now, would I be the first?"

You shivered—visibly shivered—and Dabi laughed against your neck.

“Dirty talk and praise kink.” His hand shifted on your leg ever so slightly. “Dirty girl.”

“Hey, I—”

“Answer my question, (Y/N).” He dug his teeth against your shoulder and kissed the indentations he left. “How inexperienced?”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, enjoying how his hair tickled your neck.

“You’d be the first.” You swallowed hard. “I’ve only done over the clothes stuff.”

Dabi cursed against your neck and his hand lifted from your leg and slammed against the dashboard.

“And do you want to do that with me?” He pulled back, his eyes meeting yours. His pupils were blown and he licked his lips as he waited.

“Yes.” You glanced down at your lap for a second, then back up. “I want to do more than that with you.”

"I can work with that." He leaned in and gave you another kiss before he forced himself back and slid out of the driver's seat. He got your door and helped you out, pressing you against it as soon as he had it shut. His mouth stole another long, heated kiss. "Wear this again Saturday."

“I will.”

“Good girl,” he whispered against your lips. “Four o’clock, old theater. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.” You staggered away from his car, your knees weak.

“Oh.” He grabbed your wrist and hauled you back, an arm wrapping around your waist as he held you against him. “And don’t go touching yourself before then. I want to be the one to make you cum.”

"Okay," you breathed, eyes a bit wide, and Dabi grinned.

“Atta girl.”

He watched you get into your car, not leaving until you did. It took you a second to drive because you were wound so tight. Replaying the scene only made it worse. But you replayed it all the way home—it was hard not to.

He'd been so close to touching you and the way he fucking devoured you with that kiss was cruel. You would've let him fuck you in the back of his car if he wanted. That was dangerous—you were getting drunk on his actions and he hadn't even done anything besides kiss you and talk a little dirty.

You took a long, freezing shower when you got home. Stayed in there until you were shivering and covered in goosebumps. But it barely helped. You were still hard thinking about him when you got into bed. You dreamed of him too. Of his hand sneaking up where you wanted it. Teasing your clit through your underwear, whispering about how badly you wanted his fingers in you.

You woke up soaked. So soaked that you had to take another shower. And for the first time in a while, you actually wanted to take some time and alleviate the pressure between your legs. But the desire to hear Dabi call you his good girl again was bigger. Even if that only made it harder to keep your hands away from your cunt.

You went to work horny and wired. It was fucking awful.

Especially when Dabi came in halfway through to get a coffee and found you in the romance section again.

“Hi,” he purred behind you.

“Hi,” you muttered back. He looked really good in his v-neck, exposing a sliver of his chest.

“We still on for tomorrow?”

“Mhm.” You were trying to hide your anticipation for whatever he had planned. A movie, that part was obvious. But he wanted you to wear the dress and underwear set again. That meant there had to be more, right?

“And have you been a good girl?”

Your eyes locked and you held your breath as a customer walked behind you, looking at the books on the shelves just a few cases down. He cocked a brow, still expecting an answer.

“Yes, sir,” you answered in your most polite customer service voice.

"Good." He stepped behind you, hand coming to gently squeeze your waist. In a lower voice, barely audible to you, he added, "keep that up, and I'll reward you for it tomorrow."

He winked before leaving, a silent see you tomorrow. You barely heard the customer beside you when they asked for assistance.

You were distracted for the rest of the shift, during your attempt at chores after work, even through your cold shower, and the entirety of the next day. You tried to help the customers as much as possible—that always made the shifts go by faster—but you kept going back to thinking about Dabi. It was increasingly hard not to.

Especially as three o'clock got closer and closer until you could finally clock out. You rushed home, desperate to get ready and not look like you'd spent the day at work. You rinsed off under cold water to give yourself a fighting chance before slipping back into your now clean clothes from your first date.

Dabi was once again waiting outside when you rolled up to the old theater. It was showing three different movies. An action, a horror, and a romance. About as cliche as the theater could get, and Dabi held up two tickets as you approached. They were for the horror movie that started in about thirty minutes.

"Hey there, pretty lady," he said, his hand skillfully sneaking into yourself as you walked into the theater.

"Hi." You liked the feeling of his rings as he held your hand, and Dabi laughed when he caught you staring.

"Oh, come on, I know you're not that inexperienced. You've had someone hold your hand before." He smirked before handing the tickets off to the same employee that'd been working there the past twenty years, and she didn't even need to glance up to tell you where your theater was.

"I have. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"C'mon. Let's get snacks."

Popcorn, a shared drink, and a handful of napkins. You held the drink and led Dabi towards your theater. But as soon as you entered, he side-stepped and pulled you into a corner. There were maybe two or three other people in the theater, and they were near the center. It wasn't like the theater was big, but you were practically sectioned off in the corner, away from the few whispering people.

“Bear with me.” You laughed nervously. “I don’t do the best with horror. I don’t get like super scared or anything, but the jump scares always get me.”

Dabi grinned, his thumb running over the back of your hand. "Don't worry. You probably won't be that focused on the movie anyway."

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” He brought your hand up to his mouth and gave it a gentle kiss. “You do as I asked?”

You blinked at him for a moment before it hit you, and you glanced away. "Yeah."

“You didn’t touch yourself at all?”

"Dabi." You motioned towards the people sitting near the center, and Dabi just continued to grin.

"They can't hear." He leaned a little closer as the lights started to dim, and a few commercials flickered onto the projector screen.

“No. I didn’t,” you said once the sound started to play from the speakers. “I had to take a few cold showers to help, too.”

“Poor girl,” he murmured as his hand slid from yours and went to your knee. “I’ll make up for that, don’t worry.”

“You will?” You studied his unreadable expression and he reached over, turning you to face the screen as another commercial started. “How so?”

“I’m not fucking you tonight.” He kissed your jaw, then your neck. “We’re taking this slow.”

“So, there’s a this?” You were trying not to gasp as Dabi dragged his teeth over your ear.

“Wouldn’t have invited you out again if there wasn’t.” Dabi’s hand slid up your leg.

“So then…how?” Your breath hitched as the skirt of your dress bunched around Dabi’s wrist. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

“We’re going to do some over the clothes stuff.” His hand shifted and he cupped your cunt, making sure to grab as much of your dress as possible to act as an infuriating barrier between his hand and you. “After the movie.”

He gave you one squeeze before moving his hand, sitting back as the previews started and his other hand rested lazily on your knee. He was grinning as you verbally fought to catch your breath. When you tried to close your legs to get some pressure relief, Dabi's grip tightened and he kept your legs open.

And that was the position you stayed in during the movie. He was right. You didn’t pay attention to the previews and you didn’t pay attention to the movie. It was too difficult to when Dabi’s hand occasionally slid up your leg, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin. Or when he started playing with the hem of your dress.

He’d get close to your cunt, making sure your dress touched it but not his fingers. And that was all he gave you. Little grazes of your dress that drove you wild. Nobody else had ever done this to you—nobody had ever made you react this way to them. And he knew it too, he was extremely aware of every little reaction you gave him.

He had you wound so tight by the end of the movie, you couldn’t move. But he wasn’t waiting for you to tell him, he was standing and giving you a look that said I know you’re wet, but I’m going to pretend like I sat there the whole time not almost touching you.

You were walking towards the back of the building, enjoying the fresh air, when you remembered you were at the theater.

“Wait, Dabi, you said after the movie. But where are we—”

Dabi pressed you against the wall of the theater, the old brick making the fabric of your dress snag. His mouth pressed against yours as he snuck a leg between yours, pushing just enough of his weight against your cunt.

“Right here.”

“But…” He kissed you again, a little harder before he was leaving kisses on your neck again. “People might see.”

"You weren't worried about that in my car when you were going to flash me." His hands fell to your hips, and he guided you along his thigh. "Getting so shy now?"

The sudden friction against your cunt had you throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. Dabi chuckled, watching you move your hips on your own, chasing what friction the act gave you. You attempted to remain quiet and even semi-polite, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you even if you'd found yourself at the back of the building, away from the typical crowds. But Dabi wasn't having it.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “So needy for contact. Has anyone ever touched your cunt before?”

You whined in response, but that wasn't enough of an answer for Dabi.

“Teased that clit until you begged them to finally actually touch you?" He moved his leg, lifting one of yours with his hand under your knee and pressing you back against the wall. Only a small fraction of your dress covered your cunt and you closed your eyes as Dabi pulled back and glanced down. He used one finger to lift your dress and he sucked in a slow breath at the sight. "You weren't kidding. It's real sheer.”

You kept your eyes shut, trying to balance on one leg as Dabi kept you spread. You were trying to hear for any potential people coming, but your focus was pulled in too many directions.

“Hold it up.” He guided your hand down and put your dress into your fist. “Keep it like that unless I say otherwise, understood?”

The warmth and desire that spread over you were hard to control. Dabi had you with your dress up in public—nobody else would ever be able to manage that.

“Mhm.” You were shaking from more than anticipation.

"That's my girl," he murmured, and he dragged his thumb over your cunt. "So fuckin' wet and so easily.”

His thumb ran a single line over your cunt until he decided to really have some fun. He found your clit, pressing his thumb against it and running slow, deliberate circles. It fucking shot fireworks off in you and he was barely touching you.

“Show me the bra.”

"What?" Your eyes opened, just barely. It was a struggle when Dabi's thumb kept working your clit.

“Pull the top of your dress down and show me the bra.”

“But we’re—”

"(Y/N)," he whispered, pushing your leg a little higher and working his thumb a little faster. "I got you spread eagle, gushing into my hand. Someone walks by, they're gonna see me teasing this pretty cunt of yours. Don't think it'll matter if the top of your dress is up or down."

You bit your lip, hesitating as you brought your free hand up to pull the top down. The second you did, Dabi smirked and leaned forward, kissing the newly exposed parts of your chest. It was only a few inches between what the dress covered and what the bra didn’t, but Dabi gobbled it up.

“Get another question for you.” Dabi bit down on one of the cups and pulled back slightly. If he looked down, he’d see in, but he kept his eyes firmly on yours.

“W-What’s that?”

“Over the clothes stuff means nobody’s ever tasted that sweet cunt, have they?”

“I…” Your head fell back against the wall. “No, they haven’t.”

"What a shame." He switched his thumb for his fingers, getting a more precise touch and you used your free arm to hug him closer. "Never had anyone hold your hips down and lick that clit until you cry."

You were getting close and you could hear a group of people closer than the last few that'd walked by the building. Which meant they were close to you, which meant they could walk by you. They could see you—they would see you. But you were getting so close.

“Dabi.” It was a warning for both. “I’m…and people are…”

"I'm not stopping until you cum." He dragged his tongue over your collarbone. "So you better cum quick or they're gonna see how needy you are for me. Couldn't even wait until we got to your bedroom to get off."

He changed the angle of your leg slightly and that was it—that put his fingers exactly where you needed them. The sounds of the people were getting closer. You figured you had about thirty seconds, but you only needed about ten. Struggling under Dabi's hold, you buried your face in his neck as your orgasm hit you hard enough to whine—making you forcibly silence yourself as much as you could.

You trembled against him as you tried to hold onto him, his fingers not stopping as your hips twitched up from the wall.

You'd never cum that hard before. You'd never cum from someone else before.

"Good girl, that's it, cumming so hard for me," he murmured in your ear.

“Dabi.” It was a plea this time and he moved his fingers, pulling your top up after setting your leg down.

He jerked you against him, face against his shoulder, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He was letting out the first puff as the group of people walked past, hand gently running along your arm as you silently panicked in his hold.

When they passed, Dabi pulled you back, cigarette between his fingers as he puffed out another cloud of smoke.

“See?” Dabi’s hand slid into yours. “Didn’t get caught.”

"Came close," you muttered, panting and swaying on shaking legs, and Dabi just smirked.

“Yeah, and you came pretty hard cause of it.” He stopped as you got to the front of the theater. “Next time, it’ll be around my fingers.”

You already wanted that now. Even with wobbly legs, you wanted to drag him to his car and let him do whatever he wanted to you.

“Next time?” You were trying to play coy, but you sounded exactly how you felt: horny.

"Yeah." Dabi nodded. "Next time, I'm going to fucking ruin you."

You tripped over your own feet as you walked towards the parking lot. Dabi caught you and chuckled.

“Why not right now?” You spotted his car and pulled him towards it. “Ruin me, right now.”

“What,” he purred as he pushed you back against his back door. “Want me to fuck you right here in my car?”

“Maybe I do.”

“(Y/N).” He slid his hand between your legs and pressed your clit. “When I fuck you, I want to see every inch and hear every sound. And I want to be the only one who does.”

His fingers slid down and he found your entrance, pressing as far as your underwear would let him.

“And as much as I want to throw you in the back of my car and see how tight that cunt is around my fingers, I’m sticking to my word.” He kissed your cheek. “Next time, I promise.”

“Does that mean next time we’re going to…”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah.” You stared up at him with accidental doe eyes.

"No." He lifted his hand and dragged his thumb over your bottom lip. "But I am going to lick that cunt until you're begging me to fuck you."

"Okay." You glanced around as Dabi puffed his cigarette, blow the smoke away from you." Okay, next time. After work, tomorrow. Are you free?"

“Needy, aren’t we? And even after I made you cum.” He pinched your chin and kissed you. “Busy the next few days. How about Wednesday night? Nine o’ clock, your place. I’ll grab take out from the little Italian joint.”

"Wednesday?" You could hear the neediness in your voice, and Dabi laughed.

“What? Don’t think you’ll survive until then?” He reached into his car and grabbed a piece of paper, handing it to you to write down your address. “Poor girl.”

“Dabi." You struggled to write legibly, and pouted when you handed him the paper. He cupped your cheek almost tenderly.

“It’ll be worth the wait. I promise.” He kissed you again. “If you get needy, just pretend your hand is mine. But if you do, I wanna hear about it.”

“You do?” You breathed, leaning back for support against his car.

“Mhm.” He picked you up as soon as you got comfortable, his hand going for yours as he walked you towards your car. “Every little dirty detail.”

“Wednesday. Nine o’clock.” You bit your lip as Dabi got your car door, helping you in. “Don’t be late.”

“For you?” Dabi pinched your chin. “Never.”

The days passed way too slowly. Saturday night dragged on, Sunday, too. Dabi stopped by for a coffee and pastry on Monday, staying no longer than the time it took to whisper hanging in there? When you got all flustered, Dabi smirked and stole a quick kiss, lingering to push you back against the shelves before parting.

“See you Wednesday, (Y/N),” he cooed.

Then he was gone. And you had to wait another two days before you saw him again. That was even worse—so much worse. Your cold showers stopped working Monday night, but you weren't sure you'd survive telling Dabi about…taking care of yourself. So you didn't give in to the desire. No matter how much you needed it.

Although you regretted it Wednesday afternoon when you went into work wired. Your whole body tingled with anticipation for the evening. Dabi wanted to ruin you. You already knew what the evening was going to entail: his mouth between your legs. But what was going to lead up to that and what was going to happen after and what was it going to feel like?

About half a dozen customers asking for assistance managed to accidentally scare you since you were so lost in thought. The manager on duty even pulled you aside and asked if everything was alright. After apologizing and saying you just had a lot on your mind, they nodded and let you get back to work.

For once, you were grateful you worked so close to closing. No duties of the closing cashier but it got you close enough to nine that you weren’t losing your mind with time when you got home. You had just enough time to rinse off in the shower, change into a low-cut blouse and jeans, and clean up around the place before Dabi got there.

He was there exactly at nine. You nearly tripped over yourself trying to answer the door when he knocked. Frantically fixing your shirt, trying to tuck it back in, you opened the door. Dabi smiled, a paper bag in one hand, his other in his pocket.

“Hi, come in.” You jumped aside and held out your arm, showing off your little apartment to Dabi. “I hope parking was easy—it can be a bitch sometimes.”

“It was fine.” His hand went to your waist and he pulled you in for a kiss. He smelled a bit like smoke and the flashback to your time behind the theater was quick and clear. “How was work?”

“Fine. Long. Very long.” You brought him into the kitchen where you had a small table for dining. “You had classes today, right? How were those?”

“Boring. Would’ve preferred to have been elsewhere.” He sat the bag down and started unloading the food. “And long? Any particular reason for that?”

"I wonder." You gave him a knowing but somewhat shy glance, and Dabi chuckled. "What do I owe you for the food?"

Dabi snuck up behind you and spun you, pushing you back against your kitchen wall. His mouth pressed against yours and he was real quick to reach down and hook his fingers through your belt loops. He jerked you against him, and you could feel something strikingly hard in his pants.

“Owe me nothing.”

You clawed at his shirt, suddenly entirely uninterested in the food on the table.

“Let me show you my bedroom.” You tried to tug him in that direction, but he didn’t budge.

“After.” His hand snuck around and he squeezed your ass. “Gotta save dessert for after dinner, baby. Come on.”

You ate dinner with a bouncing leg and a wicked grin from Dabi as you talked about work and school. You weren’t so blinded by need that you didn’t pay attention, but Dabi was having a field day watching you squirm. He even purposefully slowed down when he got to the last few bites.

“You get a little taste and you get all needy, don’t you?” He finally said as he rose, putting his takeout dish in the trash. “Poor girl—last few days must’ve been torture.”

“They were.”

“Did you do anything about it?” He leaned over you, one had on the back of your chair as he shoved it back, coming down to be face to face.

“No. I didn’t.”

Dabi’s eyes widened. “You didn’t?”

“No.” You pressed your mouth into a fine line. “Not once.”

“Oh, you poor girl, you really are needy.” He kissed your cheek. “Let me see that bedroom.”

You jumped to your feet and dragged him in there. It was spotless—it was the one room you'd dedicated yourself to cleaning. And Dabi looked around with those same curious eyes he'd had when you first saw him. Taking in every small detail as he looked over the space.

When he finally had his focus back on you, your legs were against your bed, and Dabi shoved you onto your back. By the time you registered you were on your bed, Dabi was on top of you, kissing you so deeply you thought you were going to get drunk off of it.

You didn’t get to touch Dabi last time—this time he was letting you. Your hands skimmed over his arms, his chest, down to the waistband of his pants. He stopped you there, taking your wrists in his hands and pinning them against the bed.

“Tell me,” he muttered as he kicked your legs open and slotted a knee between them. “Am I still allowed to—”

“Ruin me?”

“I was going to use different words, but yeah.” His teeth captured your bottom lip and you whimpered. “Am I still allowed to ruin you?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “Yes. Please.”

Dabi sat back, moving your wrists to one of his hands and skimming the other down your chest, stomach, all the way to your jeans. He toyed with the button, making you squirm as he finally undid it. He moved the zipper even slower, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw your sheer pink underwear.

You’d gone back and gotten some more sets to wear.

"You want me here?" His fingers toyed with the bow on the front and you nodded. Dabi scoffed and grinned, moving back up and untucking the rest of your shirt. "We'll get there. I want to see those tits, first."

He slowly unbuttoned your shirt, watching you as your wrists twitched in his hold. He made sure his fingers skimmed over your stomach as he moved up, only stopping once your shirt was entirely open and displaying the equally sheer pink bra. It left nothing to the imagination, and Dabi's grin grew sinister.

“You wore this for me?” His hand slid over your breast, thumb swiping across your hard nipple. You gasped at the contact, and Dabi repeated it. “That’s not an answer, (Y/N).”

“Yes, I did. I bought it for you.” You closed your eyes—it was the first time anyone had seen you in something so sheer.

“You did?” He pinched your nipple before swiping his thumb back over it. “So sweet to me, aren’t you?”

"Mhm." It was more of a whimper, and Dabi kissed your jaw.

“Shame that it looks so good on you—gonna need it off to really have some fun.”

He gave you no time to respond before he yanked the cup down, freeing your breast. There was a momentary pause before his thumb swiped your nipple, and then you felt his breath against it. You pressed your head back as his mouth closed around it, tongue swirling it gently, and the feeling went directly between your legs. Where his mouth was going to do the same thing later. At least that's what you assumed.

He pushed down on your wrists as you squirmed, and without warning, he moved to the other side of your chest, freeing the other side and taking it into his mouth. He slid a knee back between your legs, giving you just a tease of friction as he devoured your chest. He left love bites all over your chest, grinning each time he made you whimper and whine as he teased your nipples.

“You gonna leave your wrists there if I let you go?”

“Do you want me to?” You only slightly opened your eyes, and as soon as you did, you caught sight of your chest. Covered in love bites, hard nipples, rising and falling as you huffed.

“Mhm. I do.” He ran his fingers along your waist and cocked his head to the side. “If you don’t think you can, gimme a scarf. I’ll keep them in place.”

“A scarf?” Your brows furrowed and Dabi dropped his head, kissing your stomach. “For…?”

Dabi jerked his head up, brows pinched as he studied your expression. There was a realization dawning on him and his expression was a mixture of seriousness and mischief.

“Where are your scarves, (Y/N)?" It was a demand—a burning behind his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“Closet. Hanging.”

Dabi moved so fast, and you tried to compose yourself as he retrieved a scarf. When he got back, he sat beside you, wrapping your wrists practically expertly before yanking them farther back and tying them to your metal headboard.

“That’s what it’s for,” he said as he gave it a hard tug and it didn’t budge. Softly, he leaned down and spoke in your ear. “You don’t like it, you tell me, got it?”

“Mhm.” You tugged on it a few times and Dabi watched with an amused expression.

“Got a question for you.” He slid down the bed and slowly started to pull your pants down your legs, leaving your underwear on. “How many times have you made yourself cum in one sitting?”

“I…twice. Just twice.”

“Care if I break that record?” He moved to his knees and sat between your legs.

You tried your best to maintain composure, but it was getting really hard.

“You that confident?”

“(Y/N), I’m pretty sure I could blow on your clit and you’d cum.” He cupped your cunt and you realized just how wet you were. “I could give you half my effort and still have you cumming on my fingers.”

“Then prove it.”

Dabi snickered and tugged on the bow. “Oh, baby, you don’t know the challenge you’re starting.”

Dabi wasn't joking about ruining you. You were still in your underwear when he had you grinding your hips against his hand. He was just giving you his thumb against your clit, but he was taking his sweet damn time touching you. Last time had been about getting you off before someone caught you. Now it was dragging it out at an agonizingly slow speed.

“Oh, so needy. Poor cunt having nothing to fill it.” He cocked his head to the side. “You want my fingers, (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “Please, yes.”

You never thought you’d ever actually beg anyone to finger you—you never thought you’d find the person who’d make you.

“Beg for it.” He pushed down on your stomach, keeping your hips still. “So desperate to finally have someone fill that cunt. Beg for it.”

“Dabi, please. Please, I need you to. Fuck.”

“Need me to what? Say the words.”

“Fill me. Use your fingers. Please. I need you to.”

“Poor guys who never got this far. Never got hear how sweet you sound when you beg.” He shifted, pulling your underwear down your legs. “Never got to see those tits, and never got to see how sweet you look when you cum. And this? Open your eyes.”

When you looked down, you were naked. Dabi was pushing your legs open, and he waited until your eyes fell from him to your cunt before he moved his fingers. He cooed as he spread your folds, grinning as he very lazily leaned down and blew against your clit.

“So wet and needy. Keep watching.” He did a quick glance up before exposing your clit and pinching it, grinning as you squirmed and gasped. “So swollen. Sensitive.”

He swiped his fingers across it a few times, watching you twitch under the direct contact. And you could feel yourself practically gushing between your legs, and Dabi was clearly enjoying the realization that was donning on your features. You were naked, tied to your headboard, legs spread for him. For him. Drenched from him. Aching for him.

And then he pushed a finger in, and your eyes fluttered closed.

“Fucking tight, damn, (Y/N).”

You weren’t one to use your fingers like that whenever you wanted to alleviate your needs. It was always outside action. Whenever you tried inside action, you never got the same reaction. You couldn’t find the spot that made you see stars the same way your clit did.

But Dabi found it. And he fucking teased the hell out of it as soon as he did.

"Oh, right there?" He rubbed the little spongy spot, and you yanked on the restraints. "Got one finger in you, and you're already squeezing me like you're ready to cum. I still gotta fill you up, (Y/N). I ain't even getting started."

He worked you open like that for a while, going slow enough to make the pleasure almost painful. Watching with mischievous amusement as he finally got to the point where he could put in a second finger. And then he worked you harder, faster, almost mocking how you tightened around him so quickly.

His other hand went to your lower stomach, thumb swiping over your clit just as fast as his fingers worked your cunt. You weren't ready to cum yet—despite everything, despite how worked up you were, despite how badly you wanted to cum—you weren't ready yet. You were enjoying the feeling of Dabi's fingers stretching you, how they filled you. Once you came, he'd take them out, and you weren't ready for that. You wanted it to last a little longer.

But Dabi wasn’t having any of that.

“Wait, Dabi…”

"Hm? You like my fingers that much?" He spat down onto your clit, letting his thumb glide even easier over it than before. "You waited this long for someone to strip you naked and fuck you, and you want to wait?”

He worked his fingers a little deeper and faster, and you weren't trained enough to be able to hold on.

“No, I want to feel you cum around my fingers. Fucking gush. Squeeze my fingers like you want to squeeze my cock, baby. Yeah, just like that, so fucking needy.”

You came, the attempt at holding it back slipping right through your fingers. Your heels dug into the mattress as you raised somewhat off the bed, and Dabi laughed, continuing to pump his fingers. Your eyes closed harder and your moan choked itself out of you, the first wave of pleasure slamming into you unapologetically. And Dabi's fingers dragged it out, fucking you until you came back down, feet kicking beside him as he continued to hit that sensitive spot inside you.

“Look at that.” He pulled his fingers out and held them up, showing you how wet they were. “Good girl, doing just as I asked. Cumming nice and hard for me.”

He brought his fingers down as he lowered himself to his stomach. He glanced up at you from between your legs and blew on your clit.

“You got thirty more seconds, then this?” He blew again. “Is mine.”

It was closer to twenty-five seconds when he spread your folds and closed his mouth around your clit. So swollen and sensitive, your hips immediately lifted off the bed and he had to hold them down.

He went slow, giving you every bit of sensation of his tongue sliding over your clit, between your folds, even swiping over your entrance. He sucked and kissed and licked, holding your legs open and hips down.

And when your thighs started to shake, he sucked your clit into his mouth and hummed.

When he started licking it quickly, you could feel tears joining your impending second orgasm. He was getting you there so fast, so relentlessly, you almost couldn’t keep up.

There was no warning when you came the second time—not from him, nor from you—you just yanked on the restraints and cried out a half whimper, half moan. Dabi, once again, didn’t stop until you were squirming, unable to withstand the contact.

“All those people you work with,” he murmured as he ran his fingers over your clit. “They see you as this perfect little worker. Don’t break the rules. So innocent and sweet. They got no idea you got a guy like me tasting exactly how sweet you are.”

Your response was a whine, and Dabi laughed.

“You think they’d even believe it if they knew you were begging me to fuck you in my car? Or that you let me tie your pretty wrists up as I play with your cunt?” He slipped his fingers back into you, finding your sweet spot instantly, chasing your next orgasm without restraint. “That you flashed me that sweet cunt behind the theater and came even when someone could’ve seen?”

Dabi licked your clit a few times before returning his fingers there.

“Inexperienced, sure. But innocent?” Dabi scoffed as you squeezed his fingers again. “I think you’re far from it.”

You groaned as you came again, a sheen of sweat covering you as Dabi kept finger fucking you.

He was serious—he was going to fucking ruin you.

He made you cum two more times before he crawled up and untied your wrists, telling you to open your mouth and pressing his drenched fingers into it. You hummed around them, tasting yourself first there, then on his lips when he kissed you.

"Atta girl," he murmured first as you cleaned his fingers, again after he kissed you.

"You…" You nodded down at his lap, and Dabi smirked.

“I think I’ve ruined you enough for one night.” He undid the scarf from your wrists. “I ain’t fucking you tonight, (Y/N).”

"No, not that." You licked your lips, and Dabi froze. "Show me how. On you."

“You want to blow me?”

“Mhm.”

Dabi studied you for a second—a long second. Then he lifted his chin and nodded at the floor.

“Then get on your knees.”

You did as you were told, sliding off the bed onto shaky legs. Dabi motioned to his belt, and you took the not-so-subtle hint, undoing it. It jingled as you opened it, then went for his button and fly. Your hands trembled as you exposed the bulge in his navy boxers, and he sat back on his hands.

“Go on.”

You bit your lip and tentatively pulled his cock out. He was thick, hard, and—your mouth parted. It was pierced.

First cock you held, touched, seen in person, and it was pierced.

“Open your mouth, put it around the tip.” Dabi’s voice was cool and calm. Only a hint of the sternness he had with his commands before. You did as you were told, and he was hot in your mouth. “Now bob your head, take what you can, adding just a little bit of suction.”

You bobbed your head slowly, going as far down as you could, and Dabi lasted only a short while before he hissed.

“Just like that, that’s my girl. Fucking hell. Taking my cock so well. That’s it.” His hand went to the back of your head, guiding you a little faster. “I take it back. I don’t think they’d believe such a sweet girl would take my cock like this. So fucking hungry for it. Sucking it so damn well.”

Despite how many times Dabi made you cum, the praise went directly between your legs. Dabi’s thumb wiped away a spare tear, but he made you keep your mouth on him, holding you steady as you swallowed before bobbing your head again.

“You wanna keep being my good girl?”

“Mhm.”

"Then when I tell you to move, you fucking move and gimme those tits to cum on, understand?" When you didn't respond right away, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged. "Understand?”

“Mhm,” you hummed around his cock.

“Atta girl.” He groaned, his thighs flexing in his jeans. “Fucking perfect.”

He lasted a little while longer, moaning as you continued to blow him. It was a bit of a struggle to fight your gag reflex, but Dabi wasn't letting you pull off. His hand kept that firm grip on your hair as he helped move your head.

And then he was there, breathing heavy and uneven, thighs flexing under your hands. He yanked your head back for extra measure when he said the one word, move. And then his fist was around his cock, pumping it a few more times as you sat up, and he came. All over your chest. It dripped down over your stomach, and you studied how his face scrunched, the soft sounds he made as he came, and the faint blush that covered his cheeks.

“Hell, (Y/N).” His eyes went from your face to your chest. “Look at you, fucking filthy.”

His thumb wiped the corner of your mouth and looked at you, surprised, aroused, and proud. Like he wanted to throw you back on your bed and fuck you right then. But he didn't. He just looked at you, your chest, every naked inch, and seemed to memorize you. He swiped a thumb over a nipple before tucking his cock back into his boxers and stood.

He didn't spend the night. You both cleaned up—mostly him wiping you down with a rag—and he helped you back into bed after you changed. He stayed beside you for a bit, letting your head rest on his chest as he ran his fingers along your arm.

“If I didn’t have a class at eight tomorrow—and I trusted myself to have the strength to not want to fuck you in the morning—I’d stay.” He kissed the side of your head.

“What if I want you to stay and fuck me?”

“Not yet.” He reached down and spanked your cunt, making you jump at the contact. You were already sore. “Need to let you recover first, baby.”

“Friday.” You played with one of his necklaces—it had a little flame pendant. “What are you doing Friday?”

“Depends on why you ask.”

"There's a mini golf place thirty minutes north. They have a deal on Fridays, and I don't work. They also have really crappy pizza and burgers."

Dabi smirked—seemingly amused that you'd asked him to play mini gulf.

“I’ll pick you up at one.”

Dabi let you fall asleep before leaving. Well, sorta. You were awake enough to register his goodbye kiss, and then you were out, missing his warmth. You ended up dreaming that Dabi had spent the night.

You woke up sore. Sorer than you expected. All you thought of was Dabi each time you winced at the slight pain. It wasn't anything unbearable—but it was noticeable.

You stared down at yourself in the shower, chest covered in hickies of varying sizes. So much had happened last night. Dinner, naked, wrists bound, legs open. His fingers, mouth, both. Then he finally—finally—let you touch him. And you took him in your mouth. That was the first time you’d done that. That was a night of firsts.

You spent the shift thinking about that. Thinking about the soreness, what caused it. You joked with your coworker, something about going to the gym for the first time in a while as a way to cover for your constant wincing. They bought it, but you weren't exactly paying enough attention to care.

Dabi was right—you needed time to recover.

A fair amount of time, too. You were still semi-sore when Friday rolled around.

It was casual, more than you were expecting. Dabi wore the same dark clothing, and you opted for shorts and a tank top. The warm breeze felt nice as he drove with the windows down, and it was even better on the golf course. Dabi got a blue ball, and you got a red, and he looked comical holding the small putt. He laughed sarcastically, still sliding his hand into yours as you walked between holes, even when he threatened to withhold it for the teasing.

It was surprisingly sweet. He'd shown his sweet side before, but this was something different. It was all hand-holding and little fun whispers. And only the occasional innuendo at your soreness.

You split a pizza when you finished the course, lingering back to let your stomachs settle before leaving. Dabi drove back with his hand on your thigh the whole time.

"Thanks for going. I had fun." You ran your fingers over the back of his hand, studying his silver rings. "I hope you did."

“I did. Little out of my usual activities, but I had fun.”

"Can I ask a question?" You traced the rings. "Well, two, actually."

“Shoot.”

“What are your usual activities?" You bit your lip, trying to figure out how to phrase the next part. "I know we haven't labeled what we're doing—and this isn't me asking to label it—but if we are going to hang out like this, I want to do things you like, too."

"I don't know if my scene is the same as yours." Dabi cocked a brow and glanced down at his lap. "I wasn't exaggerating with what I said Wednesday night. People look at you, and they see little miss innocence. They'd eat you alive where I hang out."

“Try me.”

“What’s your second question?”

“Again, not me prying for any reason other than curiosity. But do you have a cellphone?”

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to ask that. No, I don't." He grinned. "I prefer a more 'off the grid' kind of life."

"I kind of assumed." You pointed down at his wallet chain. "No rewards card, cash only. You seem exactly like the kinda guy who'd send a dirty text just to fuck with me, so when that didn't present itself as a possibility, I just assumed."

"You caught me red-handed." He held up his hands. "It's part of the reason I stop by and double-check plans with you at work. Plus, it's a good excuse to see you."

"Fair enough. I'll take the compliment. But I'm not letting it go, by the way." You leaned towards him and poked his arm. "I want to do something from your scene. I’ll even dress the part, too.”

“Oh, now you’ve got my attention. How exactly would you dress for it?”

You tugged on his shirt. “Lots of black.”

Dabi chuckled and shook his head, staring up at your apartment building for a bit. The silence that fell between you was comfortable—Dabi was thinking. For a while.

Finally, he spoke.

“You work Thursday night?”

"Off at eight, but I don't work Friday. Why?"

“Alright. I’m picking you up at eight-thirty. I’ll take you to one of the places I hang out at.” He leaned forward and gave you a teasing kiss. “You better wear that outfit—I want to see what you come up with for it.”

“I can do that.” You smirked. “I’ll see you Thursday night.”

You had a plan. You were going to absolutely nail the outfit on all fronts. The accessories, the makeup, the underwear. Going as hard as your budget could afford. And you fucking did—with the help of the sales clerk from the boutique.

“I need your most punk outfit.”

She looked at the pale pink sundress you were wearing and cocked a brow. “I’m insanely curious. Okay.”

While the boutique usually had a diverse selection, most of their pieces seemed to be of the pastel and bright colors variety. Although, near the back, they had some items that were more in the "Dabi would like this" demographic. It was still slim pickings, though—but you made it work.

It wasn’t perfect—and you were sure Dabi would probably get a chuckle out of it—but it worked well enough.

You just needed shoes, accessories, and makeup. But that was easily covered between the drugstore, another boutique about twenty minutes away, and a shoe store nearby.

You had the entire outfit settled and ready by Wednesday when Dabi stopped by to double-check that you were still interested in hanging out the next night.

“Oh yeah. I’m more than ready.” You scanned his book. “I got the outfit all ready.”

"Can't wait to see it." He handed you the cash, and you grinned. "I'm curious to see what you think my style is. Especially on yourself."

“It’s good, I promise. I think you’ll like it. Mostly.”

"Mostly?" He cocked a brow and gave you a smirk that went directly between your legs. "I really look forward to seeing it now."

His hand lingered on yours as he took the change.

It was that little touch that got you through that shift and the next. Luckily, all the shopping to make the outfit made the days pass reasonably fast. And after an annoyingly long shift with frustrating customers—and the on-duty manager being especially micromanaging—you were rushing back to your apartment to change.

Remnants of the anger remained, but the excitement took over most of it. You nearly tripped over yourself trying to change before Dabi got there.

A very specific underwear set, a cropped red t-shirt, high-waisted fishnets that sat higher than your high-waisted black shorts. A thick black belt that cinched your waist and some chunky red and black sneakers on your feet were the best you could find. A bit of silver jewelry that reminded you of Dabi's, a little bit of dark eye makeup, and a black purse. It wasn't perfect.

But Dabi’s reaction was.

He was speechless. His eyes were wide as his mouth tipped into an insanely amused grin, and he whistled.

“This is going to take some getting used to.” Dabi stepped back as you locked your door. “Looking good.”

“So you like it?” You beamed, grabbing Dabi’s hand and hugging his arm. “I did a good job?”

"It's a fun outfit, and you look good." He kissed your cheek. "But you may want to tone down the…cuteness...when we get there. Just a tad."

“What, don’t want me to embarrass you?”

“No, I don’t want them to try and fuck with you.”

You blinked at him as he opened your car door.

“Dabi, where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere bad. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”

The car ride was handsy. Dabi couldn’t fucking keep his hands to himself. He really liked the fishnets. A lot. And the little patch of skin you were showing with your crop top? Drove him fucking wild. His hand started on your knee, and by the time you pulled up to your location, he’d dragged his fingers over the front of your shorts and was lazily playing with the button.

But he stopped to put the car in park, and you glanced up at the run-down building.

It wasn't like you didn't come to this side of town—saying one side was worse than the other was unfair. Both had their rundown and considerably dangerous sections. You just didn't go into those parts by yourself very often. You just went to and from work, the grocery store, restaurants for take-out, and occasionally saw a movie with your friends.

This was a bar. People stood outside smoking, some motorcycles were in the corner of the gravel parking lot, and loud music snuck through open doors and windows. And Dabi, walking around to get your door, looked entirely in his element as he slid his hand into yours and guided you inside.

"Stick by me; nobody's gonna bug you."

“I’ve been to a bar before, Dabi,” you said back.

And you had. It just had less smoke, and the beers were double the price they were here. But you weren't that sheltered. Dabi switched to having his arm around your waist when you entered, holding you close as he approached a group by a cornered pool table. Half were drinking, all dressed in different assortments of clothing. They almost looked like they belonged in a sitcom. Or an after-school special. Maybe both.

“Toga, Twice, Spinner, Shigs, Magne, and Compress.” Dabi pointed to each person in the group, but the way they were all mid-conversation, Compress and Magne were the only ones to say hello. “They all already know who you are.”

“They do?” You looked at him a little surprised.

"You think we wouldn't notice Dabi driving thirty minutes out of his way for another book or a random cup of coffee?" Compress wiggled his eyebrows, and Dabi shot him a glare.

“Come on,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me get you a drink.”

“Oh, I don’t really drink.” That garnered you a few surprised looks. “Often. I don’t drink often. I’ll take a beer.”

“Don’t feel pressured.” Dabi pinched your chin and kissed you—it felt like a clear sense of she’s mine, back off to everyone who glanced over. “You’re here to have fun with me, not mimic me.”

"A water then," you muttered, and Dabi's grin didn't falter.

“That’s what I thought. Atta girl.”

He left you alone, even if you weren't even remotely close to being alone. But Magne held out a hand and waved you over, practically shoving Compress out of his seat.

“Let her sit, Compress. Be a gentleman.”

"Dabi would kill me if I didn't." Compress did jazz hands at his seat, and you reluctantly sat down. He leaned against the pool table, beer in his hand. "Speaking of, you gotta tell us—what's Dabi like when it's just the two of you? Is he secretly a softy? Is his favorite color actually one of the ones on the rainbow? Does he smoke around you?"

You took half a breath. It smelled like stale beer, cigarette smoke, and like something had caught fire a few days ago and was never cleaned. It was certainly a change of pace from the fresh pastries and brewed coffee from work.

"He's a mystery. I don't have anything to compare it to, so I don't know what you consider soft for him. I had the same question about his favorite color. And yes—he has smoked around me." You sat back and blinked at him. "My own question: does he actually read the books he comes and gets, or are they just excuses to come to the bookstore?"

“I read them.” Dabi handed you a bottle of water and curled his fingers, instructing you to stand. As soon as you did, Dabi slid into the chair and pulled you down onto his lap. “I was there originally to find books, you know. I just happened to find someone far more interesting instead.”

You’d never sat on Dabi’s lap before. Just like the kiss before, this was a show of who you were with there. Especially as Dabi’s hand came down and slid into your front pocket. A physical representation that not just you, but he was off limits too. A sentiment that became clear when you saw a few side eyes from some women in a corner.

Some damn gorgeous women, too.

But Dabi's move had basically issued a challenge. Luckily, none of which were any guys coming over to greet you. You already dealt with creeps at work. You really didn't want to do that here.

For Dabi, though, it was different.

It took a matter of minutes before a few girls came over and leaned over the table.

"Care to play a game of pool, Dabs?" She cooed the words so effortlessly, and you tried not to show your reaction on your face. "Usual bet? Winner takes the other home. Win-win."

You steeled your expression—this was Dabi's world. This was where he hung out, the type of people he'd normally be interested in. Hot, confident, dressed like they weren't wearing a costume for a night.

“Not interested.” He sipped his beer, his hold tightening a bit in your pocket, pulling you back on his lap.

"Even if all three of us play again?" She batted her eyelashes, leaning a bit more forward to show off her really nice cleavage, and you weren't even mad at her. She was good at what she was doing—and she managed to accomplish it in less than twenty minutes. "I know you liked that last time."

But you weren't weak-willed enough to let it show on your face—customer service has taught you better than that.

"Mind if I take that bet?" You cocked your head to the side and did your best innocent gaze you could muster. "Although I'd prefer you fuck off and leave us alone instead of getting in bed with you. But I'm amenable to that."

“I don’t believe I was talking to you—”

“And I don’t believe we invited you over.”

“Dabs—”

"You heard the lady," Dabi said over your shoulder. His mouth grazed your neck, and his hand left your pocket, slinging itself over your shoulder so he could basically hang off you. "Fuck off.”

They lingered for a second before giving up and turning, sulking back to their corner with the rest of their group. You were tense on Dabi's lap, and he was aware of it, turning you to face him. The kiss was slow, and he tasted slightly like the bitter beer he'd been drinking. The insecurity, the anger, it was still there. But Dabi was a fantastic kisser. So you gave yourself the kiss, making him come to you to deepen it.

But you broke it just as it started.

“Hey,” he murmured, fingers swiping along your jaw. “Ignore them. I don’t even know their names.”

“I…” You took a slow breath. “I need to get some air.”

Dabi followed you outside, away from the smokers. It didn’t make the air much cleaner, but it was fine enough. Dabi ran his hand over your back.

“I don’t know them.”

"I don't care if you do." You shook your head. "We didn't...we don't have a label. You can sleep with whoever you want. I don't care about that.”

Dabi looked skeptical, but all he said was, “okay.”

“But you didn’t warn me about that. I would’ve liked to know beforehand I was going to walk into a space full of people you’d fucked.”

"I didn't..." He leaned against the side of the building. "I slept with one girl there. First night here. Just needed to blow off some steam, she let me."

“I would’ve liked to know that I might run into them before we went in there.” You dropped your head back and closed your eyes. “Just so I could prepare myself.”

"You handled yourself more than well enough." Dabi narrowed his eyes, and you just shook your head.

“It’s not about throwing a bitchy comment back. It’s about…” You ran your hands over your face. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go back inside.”

“Hey.” Dabi grabbed your wrist, brows pinched. “What’s it about?”

You gave him a soft smile. It wasn't his insecurity to worry about. "Nothing. It's nothing you gotta worry yourself with. C'mon, your friends are in there."

You managed another hour before the insecurities set in deep. Dabi had you back on his lap, occasionally kissing your neck or running his hand over your waist. But your mind wasn't in the bar—not entirely.

His friends were fun—a little crazy—but fun. But they only could do so much to keep yourself out of your head. And it was starting to become hard to throw your thoughts aside and participate in the conversation.

Not until there was the harsh sound of glass shattering on the ground nearby.

Under you, Dabi cursed. He was on his feet before the first punch was thrown. The two guys landed on a table first, then on the pool table in front of you. You yelped and jumped back, and Dabi was already putting himself between you and the fight. You jumped again when another glass was broken, and you tripped over someone engrossed by the fight. Dabi caught you but your hand also caught the table where a shard of glass sliced your palm.

You cursed under your breath and the anger that flashed on Dabi's face was visceral. You thought he was going to punch the person who'd inadvertently tripped you, so you grabbed his hand and moved towards the door. As soon as you hit the outside, Dabi was on you, pulling out a white handkerchief and wrapping it around your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He led you to his car. “I thought…I’m sorry.”

“Dabi, it’s fine. I’ve cut my hand before.”

"Keep pressure on it till I get back, okay?"

You nodded, expecting him to start the drive back to your apartment. But he didn't. It was a five-minute drive before he pulled up to another apartment complex. He got your door, and he was leading you inside, up some stairs, and inside a three-bedroom apartment.

You were dragged from their kitchen and living section into a very navy, gray, and black color-schemed room. Dabi sat you on his bed, and he disappeared only to return with a first aid kit.

"So, this is where you live."

“I live with Shigs and Compress.” He opened the kit and took your hand. “This might sting.”

You winced as he cleaned the cut but did your best not to make a sound. The concern was prominent in his features, irritation too.

“Dabi.”

“What don’t I have to worry about?” His brows were pinched hard when he looked up. “What you said when we were outside. What don’t I have to worry about?”

“It’s not…it’s…it’s stupid, Dabi.”

“Tell me.” He bandaged your hand. “Please.”

He peered up at you from where he was squatting on the floor, his eyes dark and sharp. There was a deep-seated softness in his features that made you speak—it was one you'd never seen on him before.

“You had to show me how to…” You motioned down at his lap. “Blow you. The other people you’ve been with, you didn’t have to teach them. I’m…it makes me feel inadequate. Like you should be with someone whose hand you don’t have to hold through every step.”

Dabi was quiet as he closed the kit and set it aside. He rose and sat beside you on the bed, cupping your cheek as he leaned forward and kissed you. It was an uncharacteristically sweet kiss. Slow and tender.

“Never call yourself inadequate.” He kissed you deeper. “Never.”

"I am, compared to them. I'm not being self-deprecating there. It's just a fact."

"Every damn part of you is wonderful." He kissed you harder, and you gasped. "You want to talk about inadequate? You're looking at him, baby. You're not inadequate. Don’t call yourself that.”

His hands skimmed up your waist and he pulled back, turning away and breathing heavily.

"Dabi." You reached out for him, and he held up a hand. "Everything okay?"

You meant it beyond him moving away, but Dabi stuck with only answering it partially.

“We need to move to the living room.” When he glanced back at you, he just nodded down at you. “It’s easy to have restraint in your room. It’s harder when you’re on my bed, dressed like that, and I really want to show you how wonderful you are.”

You bit your lip and, mind still a bit fuzzy from everything and body wired from adrenaline, leaned back on your good hand. Swinging your legs open just barely, you glanced up at Dabi. His breath was slow and shaky.

“Show me, then.”

“(Y/N).”

“Fuck me. Ruin me.” You swallowed your nerves. “Please, Dabi. Fuck me.”

There was only a beat where Dabi exhaled again, and then he was on you. An arm wrapped around your waist as he nudged your legs open. He kissed you drunk as his hips settled between your legs and his other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair.

“You want me to fuck you that badly?” He rolled his hips against yours. “Beg for it. I know you will. Praise kink, dirty talk, loves to beg.”

He grabbed your wrist and pinned your hurt hand to the bed, squeezing it once before bringing his hand to slide underneath your shirt. He pushed it up and groaned at the bra. It was a black push-up bra that really accentuated your chest. And Dabi fucking loved it.

He pulled the cup down and his mouth was on your nipple instantly. He sucked as he freed and twisted the other. Licked as his thumb swiped. Nibbled at the sensitive skin as you squirmed underneath him.

“I don’t fucking hear you.” He pulled your shirt over your head and threw it aside. Then his hands went to your belt. “Whatcha want, baby? Whatcha want me to do to you?”

“Fuck me, please.” Your eyes closed as Dabi finally unbuckled your belt. As soon as that was done, he was pulling your shorts off.

And then he saw you were wearing crotch-less panties, and he cursed loudly. He looked fucking feral.

He ripped the crotch of your tights open and shoved your legs open.

“Really?” His eyes were so wide. “You wore these for me?”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Just for you.”

Dabi looked back down and grinned wildly. His fingers parted your folds almost lazily, and despite how wet you were, he still spat on your clit. He kept you spread and bare, fingers going to your clit as he lolled his head to the side and watched you.

“You want me to fuck this pretty pussy tonight?” He pinched your clit. “Look at your poor clit—so needy. Maybe I’ll just give that attention all night.”

“No, please.” You grabbed at his comforter. “Dabi, please.”

"What?" He brought his other hand up and pressed a finger to your entrance. "I could tie you up just how you like and tease that clit until you can't cum anymore. Don't you wanna cum?"

He got one finger, then a second in you in easy succession, and found the spot that made you dig your feet into the mattress. Dabi wasn't going slow—it was almost a relentless pace.

“I do.” You couldn’t keep up with all he was throwing at you. “But I also want you to fuck me. I…I want you to fill me. Stretch me.”

Dabi’s fingers hesitated briefly before he was back to chasing your orgasm. He had no intention of stopping, even mocking you a bit as you started to squeeze his fingers.

"Wow, already? The fight turn you on that much at the end there?" He slapped your clit once, and you yelped. "Or does the dirty talk really do it for you?"

When you didn't answer, he tested a third finger, and you gasped at the stretch. His fingers slowed—stealing your orgasm away—but it alleviated the burning sensation.

"I forgot, you're also a slut for praise, aren't you, baby?" He worked his fingers slowly. "I mean, look at you, taking three fingers already. That's it, good girl. Doing wonderfully.”

You instinctively opened your legs more, and Dabi laughed, pushing his fingers deeper, rocking them against the spot that made you whimper.

"When you met me, you ever think I'd have you on my bed taking my fingers like this? Moaning so pretty, soaking fucking wet, wishing I'd give you my cock?" Your orgasm was closing in again, and Dabi was well aware of it. "Cause I didn't. The pretty little sweetheart at the bookstore? Never thought she'd give me the time of day. Boy, was that a pleasant surprise."

“Dabi.”

“Ain’t nobody holding you back from cumming. Fucking cum, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fuck you as long and hard as you want.”

You did, groaning loudly and pushing your head back against his thin pillows. It was like a bolt of lightning through you, and Dabi fucked you through it, keeping his fingers in you until the last wave hit you.

“Look at you all fucked out.” He slowly pulled his fingers out. “You still want more?”

You took a very careful breath and pushed yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him straight.

"I want your damn cock in me, Dabi. Now. So take your damn pants off and fuck me."

That feral expression was back, and Dabi looked excited to strip.

He had scars. They'd been covered by his shirt, so you'd never seen them. They were faint, but they littered his upper body. But you didn't ask questions—Dabi wouldn't give you any answers. Not right now, at least. There were a few on his legs too, but you weren't as up close and personal with those.

“You’re not inadequate,” Dabi whispered against your lips. “You’re not. You’re more than I could ever deserve.”

He ran his cock between your folds, grazing your clit with each little thrust. The condom was bright pink—it was the only one he had left from a joke pack Compress had gotten with fun flavors.

“Breathe.” He kissed you gently as he lined his tip up with your entrance and pushed in. It burned and stretched, but he went in easily. “That’s it, good girl. Fuck.”

He paused somewhere around halfway in and gave you a second to adjust. The only thing you could do was hug him close, eyes clamped shut, trying to get yourself to relax. Then he continued, going until he was flush against you.

“That’s my girl—fuck—taking every inch. Doing so fucking well.” He dropped his head into the crook of your neck as he shuddered. “So fucking tight.”

His thrusts were slow and shallow, carefully deepening them only when your body started to relax.

“I have so many ways I wanna fuck you. So much I wanna show you.” He moved a little faster when your whimpers turned to moans. “But tonight, I’m just gonna fuck you sweetly. Wanna feel you cum around my cock.”

When you didn’t answer with anything more than a whine, Dabi kissed your jaw.

“Doin’ alright there, baby?”

"Mhm." You were feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain, both fairly equal. A few tears snuck out, and Dabi kissed them away.

“Tell me when.”

"What?" You were slightly cut off as Dabi shifted, adjusting his hips and yours. That pleasure-pain mixture fluctuated from that to just pain to sudden pleasure, and you yelped. "There, right there."

"There it is." Dabi's thrusts were a little harder, making sure each one slammed against the spot that made you desperately latch onto him and sob in all the best ways. "Feelin' that good, huh?"

“Don’t stop.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

It was a gradual increase in speed and Dabi's hand dropped to your neck. Experimentally, as you chased the high he was throwing your way, you reached up and closed his fingers around your throat. Dabi almost stopped, his hips stuttering for a few thrusts, kissing you fucking hard as he tightened his grip on your throat.

“So fuckin’ dirty.” He groaned. “Fucking who would’ve thought, huh? Little goody-two-shoes likes to get choked. I can’t wait to find out what else makes you go fucking wild."

“Dabi, I’m…keep going.”

“You gonna cum from my cock? Spread fucking wide in my bed in those crotchless panties?” He groaned presumably because your walls tightened around him—you were so damn close. “Wore those for me. Fucking magnificent.”

Dabi closed his hand around your throat a little tighter again and slightly angled his hips, so as his cock hit deep, he grazed against your clit with each thrust. You lasted about fifteen more seconds, and then you were done. You buried your face in his shoulder as you came, biting down as that bolt of lightning from earlier was back, spreading over every inch of your body.

The pleasure twisted, and you practically gushed over his cock, and Dabi fucking lost it.

“My girl.”

He fucked you through it, slamming into the spot that made you grateful nobody else was home—you couldn't keep yourself quiet. There wasn't much pause before he was following you over the edge, hitting deep as his hips stuttered, and he groaned. His arm hooked around your waist as he hugged you.

He held you close like that as you both trembled, feeling Dabi soften inside you.

“Fucking hell, (Y/N).” He kissed your jaw, cheek, and then nose. “You okay?”

"M'fine." You blinked up at him, cheeks wet from tears and cold from the AC.

“You did so well.” He wiped your cheeks.

“I didn’t do much.”

"Mm. You did. But next time, I'll have you ride me. How about that?"

“Ride you?”

Dabi laughed and pulled out. He kissed your forehead and sat on the edge of the bed, removing the condom and tying it off. You watched as he turned and tried his best to take the fishnets off smoothly. But it wasn’t exactly easy to be suave at removing tights. Especially when your legs were like jelly.

He handed you a large shirt from his drawer and pulled on his boxers, very pointedly helping you under the covers and even tucking you in. With an arm thrown around you, he pressed his chest against your back.

“I’m sorry again about the bar.” He kissed the back of your neck.

“Don’t apologize.” Your eyelids were heavy. “Worth it. And I like Compress—he’s fun.”

“Mm.” He held you firmly. “I’m very glad Toga suggested we go check out the bookstore. Got to meet you.”

You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy Dabi’s hold. He was protective at the bar, but this was all personal comfort here. And for a moment, there was the wonder if Dabi ever got this kind of comfort. Whether he did or didn’t, he was enjoying every damn second of you in his arms. And so were you.

It felt perfect.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

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cruspy · 2 years ago

Note

Pussy Eater Bakugou

This is something I think about far too oftennn 😩

One Taste

Minors DNI

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: pure filth, explicit cunnilingus, overstimulation

---------------

Bakugou is a man who doesn't ever do shit half-assed. If he's going to do something, he's going to do it fucking right.

Eating pussy is absolutely no exception.

He almost didn't believe you when you said that you didn't like it, assuming you were joking. He'd never had any woman object to him dipping his tongue between her thighs and he certainly had never had any complaints.

It may have taken some convincing on his part, countless times reassuring you that the boys you'd been with before obviously had no idea what they were doing, but he had finally gotten you right where he wanted you.

You, with your feet propped up on the edge of the bed, legs spread shamelessly, so he could witness your pretty pussy in all it's glory. Him, with his knees on the floor before you, blessed with the best view in the house, lips just inches from tasting the meal he'd been so patiently waiting to devour.

You could feel the heat of his presence, the puffs of his shallow breath against yours thighs. Just feeling this vulnerable, this exposed beneath him had your cunt clenching around nothing. He groaned at the sight, eyeing your pulsating center as he pressed his lips to the meat of your inner thigh.

He let his lips leave a trail of featherlight kisses behind as they marched their way steadily towards your entrance. Each one felt more intense than the last. The closer that he got, the more sinful each gesture felt. The more it fed that lustful flame deep within you.

It already felt too good and his tongue hadn't even touched you yet. He hadn't had a proper taste. But, oh, how he wanted to. He'd had samples before, sure. The taste of you on his fingers hadn't satiated his appetite though. No, it had only inflamed it. Made his desire to taste you and only you on his tongue so intense that it'd become a near obsession at this point.

It took every last ounce of restraint that he had not to dive straight in, to start lapping between your folds like madman. He wanted this to be an experience that you wouldn't forget. One that you wouldn't ever be able to shake from your body's memories, even if you tried.

His hot breath fanned over your lips as two careful fingers came to part them. His tongue slipped in to the space between them as he dragged it toward your clit at a near glacial pace. Your jaw hung open, the air in your lungs suddenly nowhere to be found as you stared down at him, positively transfixed by the way his eyes shut when he was finally able to savor your sweet, succulent ambrosia.

It was as if your brain had stuttered, unable to form a sound until you felt his mouth vibrate against your center as your lips swallowed the groan that fell from his. You moaned in earnest, arching your back to tell him you needed more. One swipe of his tongue and you were sold, craving the electric feeling that one little motion had sent jolting up your spine.

He responded with sheer generosity, his hands finding purchase on your inner thighs, pushing them back as his tongue dove between your folds, swirling within your walls as his nose brushed against your clit. Your hands knit into his hair, desperate for something to cling to as this new form of pleasure sent shockwaves throughout your body. All your nerves seemed to stand on edge, heightened to new levels of sensitivity as you shuddered under his every movement.

Every pass of his tongue between your labia, each time the tip of his tongue toyed with your clit. The way his tongue expertly darted in and out of your entrance before his mouth descended upon your bundle of nerves, sucking with just enough pressure to make you squirm helplessly as your legs tried to close around him.

You couldn't tell if your body was trying to save or sabotage you. Your thighs quivered, trying to snap closed, but prevented by his strong hands, which had come to hook under your thighs, keeping your legs peeled back and spread wide for his dining pleasure. It was almost too much to keep up with, so much happening seemingly all at once, melding together into a euphoric dream that you didn't ever want to wake up from.

Then, it found you. The telltale tightening in your belly. The white hot heat that bubbled up, threatening to burst and boil over at any moment as you cried out, as if screaming his name would lessen the impact of the dive you were about to take off this steep cliff of carnality.

It didn't. It couldn't. Nothing could have prepared you for the way that your orgasm tore through you; faster, harder, and louder than your shrieks of ecstasy tore through the thickened air of the bedroom.

And absolutely nothing could save you from the insatiable palate of Katsuki Bakugou. The man who wouldn't stop lapping up the juices that flowed from you, even when tears streamed from your eyes. Even when your hips thrashed, desperate to retreat from the assault of his greedy tongue.

No, he had finally gotten a proper taste, but his appetite was still roaring. He was still starving. One taste of you wasn't enough.

4K notes · View notes

cruspy · 2 years ago

Text

I Hate Me Too

This is my piece for Anilysium’s nsfw server collab! The theme this month was Hatefucking & Revenge. You can & should check out all the other pieces at the link below 🧡

Anilysium’s Hatefucking & Revenge Collab Masterlist

Minors DNI

Pairing: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Pro Hero!Reader

Genre: smut, hurt/comfort

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: some very raw emotions in this one, biting, impact play, unprotected sex, mentions of blood, set in a hospital

“I can’t fuckin’ believe the shit that you pull sometimes. Who in the hell even gave you a hero license?” A battle-worn Bakugou spits as he takes a seat in the hospital bed nearest the door, covered in grime and dried blood, some his own, most of it not. “You got a death wish or something, dumbass?”

“Me?! I’m not the idiot who went and got himself zapped by who even knows what the hell that quirk was.” You retort, settling into a bed of your own across the room from his, minding the sorest parts of your equally battered body.

“No, you’re just the fuckin’ moron who ran ahead without backup and nearly got herself fuckin’ killed!” He snarls, curling his fists in his lap. “You know how much extra paperwork that would’ve been for me? Typical L/n, makin’ shit harder for everyone, even in death.”

“Oh, fuck off, Bakugou,” you roll your eyes dismissively, laying back in the propped up bed. “How many times were you dropped as a kid? I’m curious to know what it takes to create your specific brand of ‘the entire world must revolve around me’. Honestly, there’s not much that you do well, but being entirely self-absorbed is something you’ve clearly mastered.”

He scoffs and the noise is dripping with disdain, “You’re one to fuckin’ talk, princess. I—,” the exasperated redhead standing by the door cuts him off.

“Okay!” Kirishima smiles, resting his hands on his hips. “Now that all that’s outta your system, how about you guys actually rest like you’re supposed to? Doc said that the hospital is swarmed, so you’re probably going to be in here a while before you’re even looked at, since your injuries aren’t that serious. I can’t stick around and play referee though, so can you two just promise me that you won’t kill each other?”

He glances between the two of you glaring at one another from opposite beds and you sigh, smiling politely in his direction, “Fine, but only because it’s you asking.”

“Whatever,” the blonde huffs, kicking his boots off to swing his legs into the bed.

“All right, I’m gonna take off then. I’ll let you guys know what’s going on with the case once I know more,” Kirishima nods, stepping back to grasp the handle on the door. “And if you two have finally settled your shit by then, somebody will let you guys outta here.”

He grins and flashes you both the key in his palm before slipping out the door and quickly pulling it shut, a lock clicking as Bakugou lunges from his bed to hammer his hand on top of the handle.

“Oi!” He pounds his fist against the door, “The fuck do you think you’re doing? Open this goddamn door!”

“Kiri, what the fuck?!” You shoot forward in the bed, scrambling to hop out of it, but his voice calling through the door stops you.

“I’m sorry! But you two are getting unbearable,” he sighs, tapping his palm to the door once. “You gotta be here for awhile anyway. If one of you for some reason actually starts dying, then call a doctor in and they’ll open the door. Otherwise, I would appreciate it if you could at least try to find a way to get along while you’re waiting. If not for yourselves, then for me, please? I’ll call to check in later. Sorry again!”

The sound of his boots thudding away are drowned out by Bakugou’s palm igniting against the door, “Dumbass! Get back here!”

“Oh my God, give it a rest,” You flop back into the bed, closing your eyes as you rest your forearm over them. “He’s gone. Just shut the hell up and relax, there’s no need to add property damage to your invoice. We won’t be in here forever.”

You didn’t need to look at him to see how he was seething, you could hear it in the way the air hissed between his gritted teeth as he stomped back to his bedside.

“At least there’s a fucking shower in here,” he grumbles, shoving his feet into the pair of slippers on the floor before crossing to the attached bathroom.

“At least I’ll have five minutes of peace and quiet,” you can’t help but murmur. Always wanting to prod and poke at your explosive colleague.

“Tch,” is all he has to reply with as he swings the door open and then slams it shut entirely too aggressively behind him.

You weren’t quite sure when you and Bakugou became this openly hostile to one another; it had seemed like such a natural progression. What would have been a healthy sense of competition for most individuals quickly morphed into a never-ending trading of blows between two overly competitive hotheads. Aizawa had his hands full with the two of you alone back in your school days and since then, Kirishima had stepped up to play the role of mediator, ensuring that neither one of you actually ever went for the jugular of the other, but you just couldn’t help but to push at his buttons. They were just so easy to press.

Katsuki Bakugou is one infuriating son of a bitch. That’s just a fact to most. He’s explosive, arrogant, rude, combative, aggressive; the list could go on and on. All terrible traits, all ones that you hated to admit that you shared with him. The pair of you were like two similar poles of magnets. Whenever you were brought too near one another, an unseen force repelled you.

Which is precisely why neither of you had been too keen on even teaming up with one another for this mission and still less thrilled to learn that you’d been partnered up. It wasn’t like you couldn’t work together, you’d managed and the job was nearly done now that the raid was over, thankfully. The past few weeks had been full of petty arguments over how to best do this or accomplish that. Meaningless squabbles that usually arose over nothing more than one of your fragile ego’s feeling wounded or your mutually incessant need to take charge of the situation.

Yet despite how inhumanly angry he could make you, how easily he could burrow himself so deep under your skin; you couldn’t deny that you hadn’t thought about ripping his clothes off at least once, especially after all the time you’d been forced to spend together recently, just the two of you. It’d become a favorite daydream of yours on those afternoons when the two of you had nothing to do but hole up in a cramped room to stake out the enemy.

You’d spent far too much time imagining peeling that tank top up over his head to reveal his perfectly sculpted torso, running your fingers over the muscles in his abdomen until they hooked into his pants while your lips pressed offerings along his neck. His broad arms caging you in against his body, trapping you there so you could feel the twitch of his cock against you while he groaned so needily in your ear.

“Oi,” you jump slightly, whipping your head to the bathroom door to see him standing in the frame, the ragged shirt of his uniform in his hand and the waist of his pants setting almost too low on his hips without the assistance the belt normally provided. “Shower’s free if you want it.”

“Thanks,” you nod, always striving for indifference when not for antagonism. “You bother to leave any hot water, at least?” You hooked your legs over the edge of the bed, sliding on your slippers.

“Wouldn’t want you to have to wash that body in the cold, though I have always wondered how perky your nipples might get.”

“Uh—excuse me?” You let out a punctuated breath, cocking your brow as you spun on your heel to face him only to find his face paleing.

“I..t-that’s not what I was trying to say, I—” he stuttered, furiously shaking his head as he turned his back to you. “I didn’t want you to hear that.”

“But..you thought it? And said it out loud so..?” You narrow your gaze, shuffling closer to him. “Are you fucking with me? Because this is grotesque, even for you.”

“No, I’m not fucking with you!” He barks, spinning back around, his eyes the perfect mix of panic and pique. “I genuinely wasn’t trying to say those words. It—,” he sighs in frustration, “It’s like my fuckin’ mouth had a mind of it’s own for a second!”

You cock your head to the side, looking away and then back to him slowly. He wasn’t usually one for pranks, rather just outright insults to get at someone, but you still couldn’t write off that this might be a ploy to make you look like an ass.

“Okay then, why don’t you just try saying whatever it was you were actually trying to say again?”

He heaves a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I was trying to say that while I was showering, I was picturing you naked in there with me and then I figured I oughta leave you some hot water, so you don’t think I’m an even bigger dick than you already do.” He drags his hand along his cheek, wiping his face before covering it with both hands as he paces away from you. “That’s—,” he shakes his head, looking as equally stunned as you. “That’s not what I wanted to say.”

“Are you—,” you pause, still reeling from whatever in the hell that was. “Are you okay? Like, seriously, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” his voice is muffled against the palms of his hands, his eyes closing as he takes a deep breath. “I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

“Okay, now I know you’re not fucking around. You’d never admit to that anyone, let alone me.” You snort, circling around your bed to step in front of him, gasping when a realization strikes you. “The quirk.”

“Dammit it,” he groans, balling his hands into fists to slap them against his thighs. “What kind of fuckin’ quirk makes you say embarassing shit?”

You shrug, “The kind that appeals to karma, I guess.”

He throws down daggers with his eyes, side-stepping around you to sit on his bed. He parts his lips to speak, but closes them tight to chew on his cheek instead.

“What?” You prod, sitting down on the edge on the bed.

“Don’t wanna risk the wrong shit comin’ out again,” he explains, his cheeks flushing the lightest shade of rose.

“C’mon,” you tap his knee with your knuckles and it jerks as if you were testing his reflexes. “I’ll stop being a dick, let’s see if we can figure this out.”

“What’s your bright idea? We gonna play 21 questions?” The edge in his voice levels out the tension in the room.

“Wait, yeah, that’s actually a great idea,” you admit, folding your hands in your lap. “Maybe it’s like that confession quirk or some sort of truth quirk.”

“So you believe that I was thinking about you in the shower?” He sets his jaw, his cheeks deepening a shade.

“Listen, we can unpack that later,” you laugh, a smirk turning up the corner of your mouth as he rolls his eyes. “C’mon, I’m serious. Lemme ask you a couple questions that I know the real answer to and then we’ll know.”

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees with a deadpan expression. “Shoot.”

“Is your name Bakugou?”

“Yes.”

“Did you attend UA?”

“Yes.”

“Is your mother’s name Mitsuki?”

“Yes,” he says, more annoyance in this one than the previous. “What is this accomplishing?”

“It’s setting a baseline, jackass,” annoyance plenty evident in your reply. “Now, try to lie to me. Is your name Bakugou?”

“N—” he clenches his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “N—yes.”

Your jaw drops open in shock, “Uh—okay. Let’s try again. Did you attend UA?”

“N—,” he growls, flexing the fingers in both of his hands in frustration that only grows as he continues. “Nnnn—ugh! Yes!”

“Okay,” you flash him your palms, “It’s all right. Let’s try something that’s not yes or no. What color are your eyes?”

“B-b,” he swallows, exhaling a deep breath. “Blu—red. Oh my fucking God,” he presses his hands to his temples in a fit of irritation. “It was a mother-fucking truth quirk. This is such bullshit.”

“I mean,” you half shrug, laughing quietly. “It’s kinda funny? At least it’s nothing harmful.”

“You ever go an entire day without lying?” He blinks at you, wholly unamused.

“That’s fair. Just don’t talk to anyone.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Because you’re so easy to ignore.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You scowl. “I’m trying to help you here.”

“What for, princess?” He leans forward, glowering right back at you. “All you ever wanna do is piss me off, so pardon me if I have a hard time believing that you’re really trying to help. Only one of us was hit by that damn thing, which you’re welcome for, by the way. Should be you sitting here living through the plot of a mediocre Jim Carrey movie. Not me.”

“All right, I get you’re upset with me, but there’s no reason to take this out on Jim Carrey,” you put your hands up in jesting defense, trying to ease off on the aggression. “And look, I appreciate it, but I never asked you to—”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare say it,” his eyes close while a frustrated chuckle leaves his lungs. “Don’t you dare say you didn’t ask me to take that hit for you.”

“I didn’t though! You just dove in there like a fucking madman like you always do!” You level your eyes with his, your nostrils flaring. “You’re always running around trying to do the absolute most all the time for your own fucking pride, don’t act like you did it out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Oh, fuck you,” he sneers, indignation dripping from his tongue.

You want to lean closer, to get up in his face and scream until his ears bleed. He’s done it again, nestled himself so far beneath your skin that you want to scratch and tear and fight until the urge is gone.

But then you have a more sinister idea.

You stop, leaning back to collect yourself, closing your eyes briefly. When you open them, you tilt your head to the side and ask calmly, “Do you want to?”

“What?” He’s still angry, but that emotion falls right off his face as your play dawns on him.

“I said,” you smile sickeningly sweet, “Do you want to fuck me, Bakugou?”

“Of course I fuckin’ do,” he bemoans, his face twisted up as if it hurt him to admit such a thing to you.

You blink, your brain not quite processing his words. Had you heard him right? If he can’t—if he can’t lie then he meant that?

“You do?” You lean forward and like a seesaw, he leans back, his spine touching the mattress that was fixed at a 120 degree angle.

“You fuckin’ heard me, didn’t you?” He bites back, obviously mortified if the color of his face is any indication.

You bite the inside of your lip, shamelessly raking your eyes over his half-dressed form as if you’re assessing him. A delicious warmth floods your belly as you watch the way he seems to squirm beneath your gaze, but you didn’t want to torture him. Not before you got clean anyway.

You rose from the bed, sauntering over to the open door of the bathroom, “I’ll leave you be.” You grasp the handle, taking another assessing glance at him while he looks anywhere but at you, “But since I’m assuming you meant what you said, I think I’ll just leave this open, if you don’t mind.”

From your peripheral vision, you can see his head turn to watch as you lift your top up over your head, stepping into the bathroom with a newfound sense of power. Your heart thumps a little harder in your chest as you shimmy out of your bottoms, setting them aside while you wonder if he’ll bite.

You turn the shower on and it doesn’t take long for it to warm up, allowing you to slip under the comforting stream of water and wash away the mess from your skin. You’ve never felt such adrenaline while simply washing your body, scrubbing away the dried blood and dirt while your mind ran wild with the possibility of Bakugou keeping you company.

Just when your pulse began to slow back down, as you were rinsing the last of the lightly scented soap off of your skin, you felt his presence behind you. His breath was audible, as hot and heavy as the thick steam clouding the small room when his large hands captured your hips. You instantly fell into his touch, leaning back against his broad chest. Soft lips close around your neck and your breath hitches, your hand clasping over the one on your hip while the other reaches back to push into his hair.

“I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t join me,” you sigh, lolling your head to the side while he kisses your warm, wet skin.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he nips gently, giving your hips a firm squeeze to pull a soft groan from your lips. “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

“I couldn’t tell,” you scoff playfully, grinding yourself against his erection, inspiring him to rut it against you, letting it slip and slide against your ass while he groans softly.

“I mean it,” he snarls in your ear through gritted teeth, digging the tips of his fingers into your hips as he spins you around, pinning your back to the slick wall. “You’re a fucking menace. Always pissing me off to no end. What’s it for, princess? Got a little schoolgirl crush on me, do ya?” He cages you in with his arms, hovering his lips above yours while his hardened cock pushes up against your folds, throwing your mind into a tailspin.

Your jaw falls open, your hips seeking friction and finding it on the head of his cock as your clit catches against it, “Fuck,” you chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him while your hands roam his pecs. “You might never know, baby. Would it make you feel better if I said yes? I don’t feed your ego often enough, do I?”

He chuckles, his vermilion eyes glinting as they narrow to inspect your figure, “Have you ever looked in a mirror, baby? You know why I can’t fuckin’ stand you sometimes?” Two fingers slip inside your entrance, sinking right in while he stares into your eyes, a smug grin answering the way your brows pull together at the contact. “You’re real good at deflection, I’ll give you that.”

You throw your arms over his shoulders, clutching to him as he circles your clit with his thumb. His fingers are thick, sliding in and out of you with ease thanks to your arousal. The pleasure is enough to have your knees wobbling already.

“Because your ego,” he suddenly pulls his hand away, but you barely have the time to open your eyes to see why before he’s hoisting you up, taking a step closer to the wall as he holds you in his arms, lowering you onto his throbbing cock. “Is fucking insufferable sometimes.”

You snap your eyes shut, whimpering at the sudden stretch until you’re moaning, adjusting to his massive size and eagerly awaiting his next movement.

“You’re reckless,” he presses your back firmly against the wall, supporting your weight while he cocks his hips back and thrusts into you. “Always throwing yourself in the way of danger, even for people who don’t deserve it.”

“You’ve always got some smart ass comment waiting for me,” he repeats the motion of his hips, groaning as he sinks all of himself inside you this time, his breathing becoming more haggard. “Can’t ever just keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.”

“Bakugou,” you mewl, panting as your head falls back against the shower wall.

“Shut up,” he growls, thrusting into you again with more force than before. “You,” he shakes his head, expelling a breath as he flashes you a crooked smile. “Sometimes I just can’t fuckin’ stand you. Sometimes I think I actually do hate you.”

His admission disturbs something in your chest. It feels like a cumbersome needle has punctured your lungs and stolen the air from them. You want to shrink away, but you can’t, you’re trapped here, staring into impassioned red eyes that you are making you feel so, so small.

“Bakugou,” you repeat, your voice as insignificant as you feel and then you’re ripped away from the wall. You’re being carried to the bed, set down into the sheets that are dry no longer with him still sheathed inside of you.

“Don’t start,” he mumbles against your jaw, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along it as he works towards your ear to whisper, “I’m not done.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, thrusting steadily into you while letting you hear all the needy, wanton noises he’s making for you.

“You wanna know what I hate the most about you?” He presses his palms to the thin mattress, slowing his thrusts, making them more deliberate while his orbs bore into yours. “It’s that I don’t fuckin’ hate you at all.”

Thrust.

“I’ve tried to and I can’t.”

Thrust.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Thrust.

“I hate that I can’t get you out of my head.”

Thrust.

“I hate that you’re so ready to risk your life,”

Thrust.

“Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Thrust.

He lowers himself down, resting on his forearm, while his other hand finds your waist and his forehead falls against yours, his eyes closing.

“I hate that I’ve pushed you so far away,” his voice cracks and he swallows, “because I hate knowing that I can’t have you.”

“Katsuki,” you say his name like a prayer, resting your hands on either side of his neck. “You can,” you say shakily, tears pricking your waterline as you open your eyes to see a single tear sliding over his cheek. You swipe it away with your thumb, squeezing the back of his neck gently as a means of reassurance.

“I can’t,” he breaks, like a used match. All that combustive energy disappears just before he snaps in two. “I can’t,” he repeats, with less fervor than his first insistence.

“Why not?” You implore, pleading with damp eyes while you gently stroke the hair at his nape.

His eyes open as he lifts his head away from yours, smiling sadly as the hand on your waist moves to cup your face, “Because I’ve fucked this up too bad already, princess. I can’t blame you for hating me,” he laughs once, a bitter sound as his eyes fall between you. “I hate me too.”

“Don’t say that,” your voice is barely above a whisper, a sob following your words as you realize that he actually means that. “Katsuki,” you rest your hand on the side of his face, lifting his eyes to yours. “I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”

“You don’t?” His eyes are desperately searching your face, actively seeking any deception while a small spark lights behind his eyes.

“No,” you smile, laughing quietly, soft and sad as a tear rolls down your face. “You piss me off, that’s true. But I don’t hate you. I just—,” you sigh, trying to find the words while he waits with bated breath. “It’s like looking into a mirror. We’re so similar and I can see all the ways that we’re the same, but also different. I see my recklessness, but I see your bravery. I see my impatience, but I see your unwillingness to put up with any shit. I see my ego, but on you I see the confidence that you deserve to carry. I see all my faults, but then I can’t help but see how much everything that I hate about me is exactly what I love about you.” You swallow hard, willing yourself to hold his gaze, “I don’t hate you at all, Katsuki. I love you.”

His hand pushes into your hair, his lips finally colliding with yours as his hips pick up and move again with renewed vigor. He’s thrusting into you like he’s finally found a place to call home between your thighs while his mouth moves in tandem with yours, exchanging a conversation that can’t be spoken with words. You watch everything in a haze, too lost in the moment, too far gone to know who ends where. Not an ounce of clarity hits you until you feel the tightly wound coil, burning white hot in your belly about to snap, but you don’t dare try to rob him of your lips.

You arch into your release, his mouth hungrily swallowing the cries that spill from you as he fucks you through it. He pulls back, running a soothing hand through your hair while he watches your face contort beneath him, his hips stuttering as his own end finds him in watching your bliss unfold. He slips out just in time for his cock to spray his warm, thick seed along the inside of your thigh, his hand working to ensure every last drop leaks out while you watch in your fucked out state, half-lidded eyes admiring the mess you’ve made of the number two pro hero.

He leans down, eyes still full with fiery intention as he kisses you once more, slow and deep while he settles between your legs, his torso pressed flush to yours. The pad of his thumb drags carefully against your jaw as his hand rests on your neck.

“I love you too,” he smiles softly, appreciating the way your smile reaches your eyes as the words leave his tongue.

A knock at the door calls the attention of both of you, bursting your dreamlike bubble.

“You guys alive in there?” Kirishima calls before the handle on the door jiggles and you cling to Bakugou, who’s quick to respond.

“You better keep that damn door shut, dumbass! We’re havin’ a heart-to-heart in here,” he smirks back at you, leaning down to kiss along your collarbone as the red head’s voice carries through the door again.

“Wait, seriously?”

Bakugou groans quietly, before barking back, “Oi, what did I say? Get lost before I come out there and blast you down the hallway!”

You slap lightly at his chest, shushing him with a quiet giggle, to which he responds with a wolfish grin, delivering a decisive slap to your ass while his lips reattach to your collarbone, working towards your neck.

The sound of boots receding can be heard outside the door as Bakugou whispers huskily, “Wanna join me in the shower?”

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog, or leave a comment if you enjoyed 🧡

& please be sure to check out the other entries for this collab! There are many other talented humans who participated 🧡

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cruspy · 2 years ago

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“Just sit”

“No”

“I don’t fuckin get why not”

“Because…!”

“Because what? You think you’re gonna squish me? You’re fucking with me right?” Bakugo mutters with a scowl across his features, laying on his back against the pillows and blankets that litter your bed. The man was naked and his hands were desperately groping and pinching at your thighs; obviously trying to get you back on his face whilst trying not to make it so obvious. Fingers nearly steaming with need against your plush thighs and ass.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Pleading. It’s not unlike Katsuki Bakugo, pro hero and sex god, to have you begging and pleading in the bedroom. But it’s never been like this, never begging him not to do something.

“You won’t— I promise. I’m a fuckin pro hero, dumbass. I can take it. Now sit”

And who are you to lie to yourself about how pleasing the sound of sitting on your boyfriends face is, feeling his tongue dip inside you and roll over your clit; suckling until you’re crying and shaking over his face whilst your thighs press harsh around his ears.

Looking at the hesitation on your face, Bakugo sighs. Two Hot hands find the fat of your cheeks, red eyes surprisingly soft but yet still full of lust and want. “Look— I want you to sit on my face until I can’t breathe. Suffocate me with these thighs so I can die a happy man”

“Fine”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Lay down” you almost feel like someone is watching you whilst you shuffle your legs to hover over the top of his face, and essentially you were being watched. Watched by your boyfriend who was practically drooling over the sight of your sweet cunt and before you know it, his mouth is attached to your clit; suckling and rolling the hot muscle around the hardened bud and in that moment, Katsuki thinks he actually will die a happy man. Smelling your scent and tasting the arousal that looks against your tiny hole.

Bakugo katsuki is a happy man

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cruspy · 2 years ago

Text

thinking about the first couple times you suck bakugou’s dick he has his forearm over his eyes and he makes these weird grunting sounds to hide his moans.

he tries so hard to control himself when your tongue swipes over him and sucks at his tip. he’s biting down so hard on his lip it’s close to bleeding and he’s clutching the bedsheets so hard that you peak your eye open thinking it’s about to rip.

you can barely see his face with his tensed arm covering it, his hair an unruly blonde mess and his cheeks flushed a pretty pink. your annoyed whine comes out more as a moan, your throat vibrating around him making katsuki whisper a tight, “baby.”

you tighten your fist around the part of his dick you can’t reach as your head continues bobbing and your tongue keeps swirling. you know he’s close now. one of his hands rake through your hair to rest at the back of your head and you feel his abs tense below you.

“oh shit, i’m gonna— baby i’m gonna—.”

like the good girlfriend you are, you swallow up everything he gives you, squeezing his thigh beside you as you do. only when his trembling slows and he starts massaging the back of your head do you take him out your mouth and his arm moves from his face.

finally, do you see his bloody red eyes, staring down at you with the soppiest look you’ve ever seen on him. katsuki pulls at your arm, “come up here, wanna cuddle.” his voice is always deeper after an orgasm, usually it would make your toes curl but you have a bone to pick.

“what? why’re you frownin’ at me?”

you lean back to sit on your legs, pulling up his underwear in the process. “stop always covering your face. i wanna see your face when you come. don’t you ever wanna see me?”

your question comes out whiny, your hands sliding up his bare chest to rest on his shoulders. his hands easily find your waist and his frown gets lighter. “oh. i don’t cover my face all the time do i?”

“yeah you do. every single time i suck you off.”

you don’t think you’ve ever seen your boyfriend embarrassed? but you’re not sure you can describe how he looks as anything but that. instead of his fresh after orgasm pink cheeks, they’re now a deeper red at the apples of his cheeks and he’s struggling to keep eye contact with you. his hands massage at your asscheeks and your hips like they’re stress balls to stop him from admitting what he knows he’s about to admit.

“c’mon talk to me ‘ki. it’s fine if you don’t want to look at me if that’s not your thing. i probably look a bit odd anyway—.” you begin to shy away from him simply imagining what he might be thinking but he interrupts you.

“baby no, no it’s not you. just that…,” bakugou starts, then he sighs obnoxiously loud. “fuck, fine, i just look weird when i come.”

“weird? how?” you ask, scooting up to rest on his lower chest, his hands follow with you, eyes following your bare stomach to your tits in your bra. “katsuki, focus.”

he snaps back to your eyes, remembering the topic at hand, “i just look fuckin’ weird, i don’t know,” he smoothes his hands over your sides and stomach, a pout on his face as your hands caress his jaw.

“one day i’m gonna handcuff you so i can see how you look when you’re in my mouth.”

katsuki’s eyes widen, his palms so tight on your sides that you were sure he was about to leave prints. “fuckin’ handcuffs?” he splutters and you grin.

“yeah, if you won’t let me see you, i’ll make you.” you end in a whisper, ducking your head down to brush your lips against his ear lobe.

“yeah?” he rasps.

“mhm, though it kinda hurts you don’t wanna see your dick in my mouth?” you suck lightly on his earlobe, feeling his chest tremble under you. you peck wet kisses along his neck, rubbing your thumb along his jaw.

“i do, i wanna see your pretty lips around me. y’always suck me off so good, baby.” katsuki gasps but he can’t keep his thoughts straight. you’re pressing on his favourite spots, talking so innocently in his ear and he feels himself bricking up again.

“but?” you prod, sucking on the junction where his shoulder meet his neck. katsuki hisses, running a hand down your spine.

“i look fuckin’ stupid.”

you huff an impatient laugh, pecking on the spot you were sucking, “and who’s told you that? another girl?”

“hah? no, i just know i do,” he trembles at your ministrations, both his hands resting on your hips to move you against him. he knows you love it when he does it, and he’s trying to distract you into dropping the subject. you won’t though.

“so you let other girls see you come but not me then?” and he is jelly in your arms, head rolling back on the sofa as you keep attacking his neck. blooms of pinks and purples covering every bit of him.

“babe, no,” he can all but whine, slowly slipping into the pleasure before awkwardly clearing his throat.

abruptly you sit up and your frown is even stronger than before. your eyebrows are furrowed, creating a harsh shadow over your eyes and you look like you’re a second away from biting him. instead you pinch his side, making him squeak an “ow!”

“and stop hiding your whines and moans from me! i want to hear you! imagine i covered my face and was silent whenever you touched me,” you complain until your features drop into a sad pout. your hands slide off his shoulders and you’re about to roll of katsuki until he holds your hips down.

“let go—,”

so softly he kisses your cheeks and down your neck. you smell sweet with your usual musk and that on its own makes him want to moan, so he does. he licks a wet stripe up your neck and slots his tongue into your mouth with the loudest moan you’ve heard from him. so loud, the vibration down your throat makes your nipples harden.

“‘m sorry baby,” he pulls away for less that a second to take you in another kiss, “i haven’t done this with anyone else before.”

you’re too busy living in the pleasure, letting your hands roam his body while his tongue roams your mouth. his hands squeeze the fat of your hips and you’re about to start rocking your hips faster over him till you clock on.

“this has been your first time?” you whisper as he licks your earlobe and gives it an obnoxious suck. you both haven’t had sex yet though you have done everything else. how didn’t you notice? he’s always been so confident and good, no scratch that, amazing at it all.

katsuki grunts, burying his head in your neck to hide not only his embarrassment but to catch his breath, “yeah don’t waste too much time laughin’. i know i haven’t been the best but i’ve been tryin’.”

then you do laugh, but not mockingly, it’s light and airy. with both your hands, you pull his head off your shoulder to try and meet his eyes. though he gazes down at the laces trim on your bra and his hand dips to play with loose string of your shorts.

“gorgeous, if i’m honest, i never noticed. wouldn’t have guessed either.”

he meets your eyes, still a grumpy pout on his features.

“you could have kept that secret till your grave and i would never have known.”

his eyes comically widen, lips parting in awe. then he grimaces and you know he’s wishing he kept his mouth shut.

“you’ve always been so attentive. feeling my body for my reactions and listening to the noises i make. that is a sign of experience for me. so many boys just stick their fingers in you and hope for the best.” you tilt your head with a smile, scratching the underside of his chin like a cat. and to your surprise he gives you a purr like moan.

“i should have told you i love when men, you make noise. i like knowing you feel good and i like seeing your face all scrunched up when you’re about to come. makes me wanna come too.”

with a growl, he ducks forward to kiss your lips in a hard kiss, so hard your head is pushed back. “fuck, lets start again then.” when he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his lips are a pretty red. his eyes bore into yours almost desperate for everything he was missing and now willing to give you.

you giggle, “sure, where do you wanna start, virgin?”

he narrows his eyes at you, pinching your side harshly and ignoring your yelp. “wanna see you shake when i moan in your pussy.”

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cruspy · 2 years ago

Text

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS SO MUCH

holding out (just for you) [2] || katsuki b.

pairing: dragon!bakugo katsuki x reader

word count: 13.2k+

mentions: female reader, fantasy au, descriptions of injuries, blood, not edited!!, aged up chars (24+), sfw, second pov, part of the bnha big bang collab!

with art drawn by the amazing @sdrawberrii-mochii !! here is a link to the original post (give it some love!!!!)

part one

The storm was finally over.

You stood at the mouth of the cave, squinting at the sunlight that poked its way through the remaining puffs of white clouds. It gave everything a warm feel, bathing the surrounding forest and body of the mountain in shades of honey and nectar. There was this fresh, dewy feel to everything that made you feel like a newborn experiencing life for the first time. You honestly never felt so relieved before at seeing the cerulean of the sky. There was not a single hint of the thunderclouds from the storm and you hoped there wouldn’t be for a very long time. You inhaled deeply, then exhaled in a quiet sigh and turned around. Bakugo lifted his head slightly to look at you and started shifting as though he was going to get up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” You held up your hands at him with wide eyes and moved closer to him. You gestured at him to sit back down, though he only stared at you impatiently. A huff escaped your lips. “You should not be moving so much! You’re still ridiculously injured! You could irritate your wounds even more and all the healing I’d done would be a waste!”

Bakugo snarled and bared his teeth at you, displeased. You rolled your eyes. “I know, it’s annoying. But you really shouldn’t move too much. Or at least stay on the mountain until I get back.” He huffed some smoke at you and shifted again to start heading towards the cave entrance. You could do nothing but frown as you skirted around him—after all, who were you to halt a grown ass dragon in his steps? Only, before he could get too far, his hind leg crumpled, unable to support his weight. He made an irritated growl as he sank to the floor, the powerful muscles of his legs tensing before you.

You clicked your tongue and hovered around him, eyes darting at his wounds to make sure they weren’t bleeding again. “See? Just stay put, please? I’m gonna head back to my cottage for some more salves that can properly treat your wounds.” You turned around and jogged back to the mouth of the cave so you could hoist your bag onto your shoulders. You’d already checked to make sure you had everything—including the poor remains of your jacket. You glanced at Bakugo over your shoulders. His teeth were bared in what looked like a pained grimace, though you could also practically feel the frustration coming off of him in waves.

“I shouldn’t take too long,” you told him as you stepped out into the sunlight. “Get some rest in the meantime.”

Before he could respond, you started your descent down the mountain, carefully placing your steps on the rocks that were still a bit wet and slippery from the storm. You had to admit, it was nice being out in the open, finally able to feel the sun’s warmth along your arms and face. There was a warm breeze drifting through the air that was such a large contrast from the battering winds of the storm. You did your best to climb down the mountain at a quick and efficient pace, but it still took you a while before you reached your cottage.

And what you saw made your shoulders sag, your heart dropping to your feet.

Your garden was ruined.

This region of the world never had a thunderstorm last for that long, so you’d never bothered to prepare for it. You’d been hoping that the mountain would take on most of the brute force of the storm and help shield your cottage from the high winds and pouring rain. But apparently it didn’t—or at least, it didn’t block most of the storm.

You grimaced as you stepped along the branch-littered stone path in front of your cottage until you reached the edge of your garden and stared sorrowfully at the ruins of all your plants. They were scattered everywhere, uprooted by the winds. There were giant puddles of water seeping into the dirt along with massive branches from the trees surrounding the area. You winced at the sight of a few branches crushing the poor herbs you’d been so carefully cultivating. Wet smears of soggy leaves and drooping stems peered sadly at you from a waterlogged grave.

It would take you weeks, maybe even months to get your garden back to its original state. The magical plants and herbs you’d been growing would be the toughest to take care of, seeing that some of them were foreign. They just weren’t things you could find out in the wild or on the mountain so easily—you’d have to go looking for a shopkeep that’d sell you the seeds. You might even have to take a trip out of Yuuei if you really wanted to find some of them. You bent down and gently ran a few fingers along a wilted flower, then stood up and let out a long-suffering sigh.

You kind of wanted to cry, and maybe you did let a few tears slip at the loss of something you’d been caring for ever since you moved to this quaint little village. But you had work to do. You couldn’t linger for long.

Still, you allowed yourself a short moment to grieve.

Wearily rubbing at your face, you turned to head over to your cottage, stepping over puddles and branches in your way. If you looked up at the roof, you could see a few thick branches perched precariously on top of it. Great. You didn’t know how you would reach those, but they were a problem for later. You toed off your muddy boots to leave outside, unlocked, and then opened your door. Your eyes swept around the room, looking to see if anything was awry.

You supposed you should count yourself lucky that you’d kept the windows closed, so there wasn’t any obvious mess of the potted plants near them, or the dried out herbs you had strung along the walls. There were a few puddles seeping into the wooden floor that you frowned at, and upon looking up at the ceiling you could see a few wet patches where water was leaking through. None of your books appeared to be damaged, thankfully, and the table stacked with salves and creams was fine as well.

It wasn’t until you walked into your bedroom to check it out that you noticed there was a decently-sized hole in the ceiling. You craned your head back as you looked up at it. You could see a bit of the blue sky through it, though it was mostly obscured by one of those fucking branches you saw on top of your roof.

“Fantastic,” you grumbled as you glared at the hole as though it had personally offended you—and it had!—before you cast your gaze at the floor. There were wood chippings and some stray leaves scattered about the nice little rug you had in your room. An obvious wet spot was on the carpet as well, though that would be easier to deal with than all the other things. Your bed against the leftmost wall looked fine, and as you walked over to the giant bookshelf you had against the right wall, you saw that everything upon it was fine as well. The shelves were stacked with more plants and jars of creams and liquids, so at least you knew you had enough to last you for a while as you tended to your garden—and that wasn’t including the small closet you had in your room that housed a mix of your clothes and some more medicinal supplies like needles and syringes.

You set your bag down on the small desk next to your bookshelf so you could rummage around in it to pull out all the plants you’d gathered on the mountain and store them in their proper places. The bottle of ink and quill were also set on your desk along with your little journal. That stupid rock-hard pastry you didn’t get to eat got thrown in the trash. You left your canteen and the single Nadir flower in your bag. As for the ruins of your jacket… You grabbed them and tossed them next to the fireplace in the living room.

You really, really wanted to lay down at this point, but you couldn’t. There were still things to be done. But first things first, you really needed a bath. You’d been stuck in that cave for who-knows-how-long—you felt absolutely disgusting. Hopefully getting cleaned up would make you feel better as well.

And it did. A nice, cold bath made you feel refreshed and more energetic than before. The fatigue you’d been feeling was eradicated—if temporarily—so you at least felt that you could survive the rest of the day without collapsing in a heap. You bustled around in the kitchen to grab something to eat—bread and a savory spread you’d made not too long ago that hadn’t spoiled yet—and drink. You slowly nibbled at it as you watered your inside plants, took stock of your inventory, and made a list of all the seeds and plants you’d need for your garden. You mopped up the puddles of water on the floor and cleaned out the carpet in your room before hanging it to dry outside. You didn’t know what to do about the hole, but you figured you’d just see if you could place a tarp or something over it later.

At one point, you eyed the materials you used to stitch up wounds of people who needed it, contemplating if they were things you could use on Bakugo. But really… you didn’t think you could. He had too many scales in the way—it would be too difficult to even attempt to stitch him up. You’d have to stick to magic salves and your own healing magic—which was, admittedly, a new experience for you since you tended to not use your magic on people—but you figured you’d be fine.

As you prepared your bag for a trip into the village, you found yourself pausing at the bookshelf in your room and scanning it for that little mythical creature book you had. It was crammed somewhere on the bottom shelf, dusty with misuse. You slid it out and blew the dust off of it. It was an unassuming little thing, with a drawing of a phoenix on its dark cover. You stashed it in your bag to reread later.

With one more check to ensure you had everything, you stepped outside and slipped on the same boots you’d worn to the mountain, locking the door behind you as you set off. Twigs and branches crunched under your feet as you walked. You had to dodge around quite a few muddy puddles on your way and once you entered the village itself, you saw that it had not been spared from the storm’s wrath either. You looked around as people bustled about, tending to their houses and shops that looked like they’d gotten flooded out. Well… at least you didn’t have to worry about that. Just staring at all the deep pools of water around the village was making you wince in sympathy.

You ended up at Denki’s pub again, which was—somehow—open.

“Hey!” he greeted you as you stepped inside and looked around. He didn’t have many customers, though you did see a familiar face sitting at one of the barstools at the back of the pub. Izuku perked up once he turned around to see who Denki was talking to, then gave you an eager little wave.

You waved back as you walked closer and took a seat next to the freckled man. “Hey guys. What’s new?”

“Apart from the crazy storm we just had?” Izuku questioned as he tilted his head at you.

“Yeah that was wild!” Denki agreed as he leaned forward against the bartop. “I was lucky all I got were a few leaks!”

“A few leaks huh,” you said dryly. Your tone made both men look at you questioningly and you crossed your arms as you stared at Denki. “You wouldn’t believe what happened to me.”

He was almost hesitant as he asked, “...What… happened?”

You sniffed and pulled your bag off your shoulder so you could set it in your lap and open it. “Well, a little birdy told me there were Zenith flowers on Kamino sometime before the storm started...”

Izuku looked at you in alarm, his green eyes widening. “You weren’t—!!”

“I was,” you drawled, relishing in the panicked way Denki was looking at you. “And guess what I found on Kamino.” You opened one of the little pockets in your bag and carefully pulled out the cerulean flower from it before setting it on the bartop in front of you.

Denki’s eyes darted down to look at it before his face twisted in confusion. “A… Zenith flower?”

You shook your head and opened your mouth to respond, but Izuku beat you to the punch. “Oh nooo, those are Nadir flowers aren’t they?” He pointed at the leaves. “Zeniths typically have heart-shaped leaves while Nadirs have oval ones. Those small red thorns on its stem are also another characteristic. They’re extremely poisonous!”

“That’s right,” you said as you gave Denki a pointed look.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” he blurted out, reaching out so he could clasp your hands between his own larger ones and look at you with watery eyes. “You were probably trapped on Kamino, weren’t you? Shit, I’m really, really sorry!”

You cracked and let out a sigh before gently squeezing Denki’s hands. “Relax, it wasn’t your fault. I was just messing with you. Slightly.” When all he did was pout at you, you gave him a small smile. “Seriously, I’m kidding. There was no way for you to know there was a storm coming—or that I’d go the same day.”

“That was some extremely bad timing,” Izuku said as he looked at you worriedly. “What did you do?”

“Camped out in a cave.” You shrugged and slipped your hands from Denki’s so you could pat him on the head. As you opened your mouth to mention the unexpected companion you had while you were in the cave, you found yourself hesitating. You… kind of wanted to keep Bakugo a secret. Maybe that made you selfish, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell your friends there’s an injured dragon on Mount Kamino. They could keep a secret, sure, but you knew Denki tended to blabber from time to time—especially once he had a few drinks. You didn’t want to imagine the type of crowd that kind of information would bring to Yuuei. So you settled on withholding it—at least until Bakugo was healed enough that he could fly away or fight if needed (though hopefully it wouldn’t come to that).

You changed gears and instead said, “No idea how long I was there for, though.”

“The storm lasted a few days. Almost three, I think,” Izuku told you, a frown splayed across his lips. Damn, had it really been that long? He peered closer at your face. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine and dandy, don’t worry about it!” you said cheerfully as you grabbed the lone Nadir table on the bartop and carefully stashed it back into your bag. “Sleeping in a cave just wasn’t exactly comfortable, you know?”

“Aaghhh!!! I still feel so bad!!” Denki wailed, collapsing onto the bartop dramatically so he could press his face against its cool surface.

You rolled your eyes in good nature. “If you really wanna make it up to me you could give me another pastry. I never got to eat the last one I got.”

At that, Denki sprung up, a new vigor to his movements as he looked at you determinedly. “You bet! I’ll give you the best tasting pastry this village has to offer!” With that, he ran off to one of the backrooms behind the bar so he could likely make you a fresh pastry. You weren’t complaining if he was putting that much effort into a simple order.

“So, Izuku”—you turned to look at him—“what’re you doing here? I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s the hand?”

“Ah, it’s doing better!” he told you happily as he turned in his chair and rested his right arm on the bartop. You looked down and reached out to hold his hand, running your fingers along the rough, pink scars that decorated his palm and fingers. “I, um, I’d str— strained it a couple times, but uh, I’m getting better! At not hurting myself! Anymore!” You glanced up to see him fidgeting around, his eyes darting to look at different points in Denki’s pub. He always got a bit… nervous, when people touched him there. You gave him a soft smile when he finally looked back at you and he returned it, albeit a bit sheepishly. “I’d been wandering around the village to help folks out with repairs after the storm. The pub was open when I passed by so I decided to check on Denki and here we are!”

You hummed and flipped his hand over so you could tap at a thin slash near his wrist. “That’s new. What was it this time?”

Izuku nervously laughed and gently tugged his hand from your grip so he could run it through his curly, green hair. “Ahh, can’t get anything past you, huh?” His voice got quieter when he said, “Sword injury. Again.”

You gave his hand a pat and released him so you could brace yourself against the bartop. You didn’t know the specifics of what he did on a day-by-day basis, but you weren’t one to pry all too much. Your eyes lingered on the golden sword hilt that stuck out from the belt around his waist. He carried it with him everywhere. “Were you practicing? Or was it an actual fight this time?” You nudged him teasingly to let him know you were just messing around.

“Ah, it— it was just a bad block on my part!” he stammered, waving his hands in front of him rapidly. “Sweets— she thought I would block it, um, properly, but I fumbled and, well— She apologized a lot!”

Denki took that moment to stick his head through the kitchen doorway. “Tell Sweets I miss her!! When’s she coming back to work?! It gets lonely running this place by myself!”

“Weren’t you the one who told her to take a few weeks off for their honeymoon?” you asked Denki wryly.

He spluttered a bit. “Well! Yes, but— Never mind, going back to work now.” And with that he disappeared back into the kitchen backroom just as quickly as he had appeared.

A small smile still lingered on your face as you turned to look back at a flushed Izuku. “How is Sweets doing, anyways? That rash she had isn’t still spreading, is it?”

“She’s fine now! That salve you gave her worked wonders! Oh, speaking of”—he perked up considerably and looked at you eagerly—”can I ask you what you used to make it? I just— I don’t think I’ve ever seen one work like that before. And it was a different texture from what you typically use. Plus the aroma—”

The two of you ended up talking about the different medicinal plants you use and the ways you combine them into ointments and salves. Izuku always liked to ask questions anytime you saw him either in the village or when he dropped by your cottage for treatment. You didn’t mind—you thought it was a bit endearing how curious he was.

Denki eventually returned after a short while and gave you a fancy-looking frosted bun with ‘sorry :(’ piped on top of it. You couldn’t help but to crack a wide smile at it. You gave him a pat on the head that made him lighten up and hopefully get over the unnecessary guilt he felt. Seriously, you told him, it’s fine. You chatted with them both for a while more as you polished off the pastry, then got up and rolled your shoulders back.

“Well, this was nice, but I have to go. Things to do, people to heal,” you told them as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Come back soon!” Denki gave you a thumbs up with a sheepish smile. “And let us know if you need help with anything.”

“Yeah!” Izuku agreed as he looked up at you. “Did your cottage get damaged by the storm? I know you’re in the forest, so there’s a lot of risk there.”

You cringed slightly and thought back to your ruined garden and the hole in your roof. “Yeah, my garden got totaled and I have to do some repairs. I’ll let you guys know—I have a bunch of organizational stuff to do first.” They nodded and waved their goodbyes as you walked out the pub and into the fresh air of the storm’s aftermath. People still milled about and you took a moment to look around. You should probably walk around and check to see if anyone got injured during the storm. You nodded to yourself and set off in a direction down a paved path, calling out greetings to some of the faces you recognized.

But first, you needed to stop by the Butcher’s.

You huffed as you crawled up a particularly slippery rock, the bag on your back weighing you down even more. You probably shouldn’t have bought so much meat from the Butcher, but well, you needed to bring something back for Bakugo. Admittedly, it likely wasn’t enough to satiate his entire hunger—he was a fully grown dragon, after all—but it was all you could do for now. Meat was expensive—you also couldn’t quite carry too much at a time up a bigass mountain.

You stood up straight once you steadied your footing on the rock and looked up in the direction of the cave. You could just see the wide, gaping mouth of its entrance staring at you from atop the slope it sat on. You puffed out a breath of air and continued on, cursing when you stumbled on occasion or narrowly avoided a particularly mossy section of the rock you climbed over.

Finally, you found yourself standing before the dark cave, panting slightly as you stared into it with the expectation that an irate dragon would huff a greeting at you.

Except, Bakugo wasn’t here.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing back at you as it bounced around deeper into the cave. You walked inside a bit, peering around and squinting into the darker areas of the cave in the hopes that you would see a familiar glint of gold or flash of crimson. But there was nothing. It was empty. You sighed and ran a weary hand down the front of your face. You didn’t know how he was able to pull himself from the cave in his obviously dire condition, but it shouldn’t have surprised you all too much. You would’ve been impressed—considering how injured he was—if you weren’t so worried about him having possibly reopened his wounds. It was a good thing you’d made a quick stop at your cottage to grab some salves and other materials you believed would help him heal faster—you weren’t entirely sure if they would work, but it was better to try than not, you supposed.

You knelt down around the area where you’d last seen him resting before you left. There was no visible blood on the ground—a good sign, of course, but it didn’t stop the worry and unease from swarming in your stomach like a hive of angry bees. You reached out and gently touched one of the lines of the scratchy Bakugo he had carved into the floor, then stood up with a deep sigh.

Shit, you cursed as you walked back outside and stood at the edge of the slope. You held a hand over your eyes as you squinted and looked around for any trace of Bakugo. He couldn’t have gone far, right? Not with those injuries. At least, that was what you hoped. You were somewhat glad that the cave was high up on the mountain—it made it easier for you to look around below you. Grey rock with patches of green grass and moss stretched out for what looked like miles below you. There were some trees scattered here and there, but most were at the base of the mountain, where the forest was. Maybe you should walk around the mountain some more—just in case he was somewhere you couldn’t see from your position.

You steadily made your way down the mountain at an angle, picking your way through some steep declines that had your heart stuttering whenever your boots slipped. After wandering about for what felt like hours, you finally climbed up onto a ledge that allowed you to see a small clearing in the near distance. It was a mix of rock and grass, though it looked flat enough that someone could probably build a hut there if they wanted.

Right in the center of the clearing was Bakugo. Seeing him out in the sunlight was immensely different from when you were both in the cave. The light gleamed brightly off his scales, making him stick out from his surroundings like a sore thumb. The swirling black and tangerine markings along his body juxtaposed his golden vividness—their deepness made you feel like you could get sucked right into them. From your angle, you could see the left side of his head, but it appeared that he hadn’t noticed you just yet. You paused, taking a short break to catch your breath as you watched him curiously.

There was a moment where it looked like he was concentrating on something. His large eyes were closed. The muscles along his back and legs were tensed and crouched—like he was on edge or about to spring into a fight. His head bowed forward and you didn’t dare release even the slightest of sounds as you watched him eventually huff out a plume of dark smoke. He opened his eyes—pupils slitted and tiny—and let out a low growl that you could hear from your position.

He looks frustrated about something, you mused to yourself as he snapped his powerful jaws and let his tail whip to the side. The spikes along his back and neck bristled. Common sense was telling you not to approach the angry dragon, but you did anyway, starting the steady descent towards the clearing.

Just as you landed on top of a particularly large boulder, you looked up to see Bakugo attempting something different. He extended out his wings—or well, attempted to. The muscles that comprised them shook as he tried to hold them out horizontally, but he couldn’t with how critical the wounds were on them. You frowned once you noticed the deep ruby blood that dripped steadily onto the grass from his wings, staining it. Great.

You finally called out to him just as he tried giving his wings a few experimental flaps, his thick legs tensing as though he was going to jump into the air. “Hey! What’re you doing?! I told you not to leave the cave!”

Bakugo snapped his head in your direction, a snarl on his face as he watched you clamber down the boulder and land on the grassy part of the clearing. You made your way closer to him, ignoring the way he growled at you and snapped his jaws threateningly. You leveled him with an irate look, your hands on your hips. “I get it, you don’t wanna be here or whatever. But I told you not to move around too much or you’d risk reopening your wounds. And what did you do?”

Bakugo made a deep snarling sound that was probably intended to intimidate you and turned so he could loom over you. He bared his teeth, his head hovering over your own in a way that made you crane your neck. If he was trying to make you cower in fear or run away, it wasn’t working. You pointed to his wings. “Look at all that blood. And I had just finished treating the infection too! It’s your own fault that your healing process is gonna take even longer now!”

He growled and puffed smoke directly into your face before moving away. You waved a hand in front of your face to get rid of the caramel smell and jogged around him so you could stand in his way. His eyes swiveled down to look at you, his sharp teeth glinting like diamonds in the sunlight. “Where are you going? Sit down so I can look at your wings.” He chuffed and narrowed his eyes as though daring you to order him around again. You didn’t back down and instead crossed your arms. “I said sit down Bakugo. The quicker you comply, the quicker I can get to work on healing you. I’m sure those wounds hurt.”

He was so fucking stubborn. You didn’t relent with your glare, not until he let out a deep clicking sound and reluctantly settled on the ground. His tail whipped behind him, nearly catching your leg had you not stepped to the side to avoid it. You rolled your eyes at his behavior. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You just got another deep click in return.

You pulled your bag off your shoulder and squatted on the ground so you could pull out the chunks of meat you’d gotten at the Butcher’s. Bakugo watched you raptly as you got up and walked closer to him so you could set them on the ground in front of him. The meats were neatly wrapped in paper that you easily peeled away before you got up and looked up at his head. His eyes flicked down to the food, then back at you.

“It’s not much,” you told him as you glanced sadly down at the raw slices of meat. Now that they were in front of him, they looked so small—like they would amount to nothing but a pea’s worth of sustenance. “But it was all I could carry. I can always get more, but I hope you’re good at hunting ‘cuz I won’t be able to do this all the time.” Besides, you added in your head, I can’t bring enough to fill up a whole fucking dragon.

Bakugo growled and snorted some smoke out at the meat as though to say of course I’m a good hunter. He looked down at the pile, then tensed as the spikes on his back bristled. You raised an eyebrow. “What? Is it not up to your standards? It’s better than nothing, I can tell you that.” He turned his head to glare off into the distance. You stood there and watched, wondering if he was going to eat the damn food or not. After a few moments of silence, you spoke up. “It’s really no biggie, you know.” He looked back at you, his narrowed eyes flicking between your face and the meat. You sighed. “Come on, just eat it. You need the energy.”

He let out a low rumble and chuffed again before finally, finally, he lowered his head to begrudgingly sniff at the food. You had no idea what his deal was—this was just like when you attempted to give him the hardened pastry back in the cave. Maybe he hated being doted on by an itty bitty human. Whatever, you rolled your eyes as you went back over to your bag to take out all your medicinal supplies.

You rummaged around for a bit, then found yourself glancing up at Bakugo when he shifted slightly. Your glance turned into a stare when you noticed he’d raised his head, a sort of glow coming from the base of his long neck. It was a fiery orange color that made its way up and up and up until it exited from his open mouth in a burst of brilliant, rushing flames. Your jaw dropped open as you watched him roast the food, the smell of charred meat filling the air. The heat from the flames was enough to make you break into a light sweat.

It was over just as quickly as it had started, a pile of crispy meat and burnt grass left in its wake. With a snap of his jaw, Bakugo swallowed up the food, his forked tongue darting out to lick at his chops before he leveled you with an unsatisfied look.

You stared back. “Not a fan of raw meat, huh?” you asked wryly as you pulled out a jar of a lavender-colored paste to set on the ground near you. “Did you want some spices for that too?”

Bakugo huffed in a way that made you grin. You pulled out some old strips of cloth to use to wipe the blood away from his wings and stood up to step closer to him. “Well, best to get started then!”

And so started the strange schedule of healing a dragon.

Every day, you would dedicate some time to walking up the mountain with some food and more ointments to try on his wounds. They didn’t all work on him, unfortunately, but you were making some progress: his wounds weren’t bleeding anytime he moved around anymore. Though, it was still very risky for him to do anything other than walk slowly about the mountain. You kept a close eye on him—or at least as much as you could between your duties tending to the villagers who were injured or sick as well.

It was very time consuming and energy-sapping—especially once you started using your magic to slowly heal him again. It seemed like that was the only way you were going to make any significant progress with his injuries. You felt a perpetual exhaustion behind your eyes and on your shoulders that only increased depending on how much magic you used to heal him on a given day. You hardly had time to sleep anymore, much less work on organizing your garden and inventory. It bothered you, of course it did, but you’d always put patients before all else. You just didn’t expect one of said patients would be a dragon.

You were slowly wearing yourself down—but you couldn’t really do anything about it.

Or well, you knew of a way that could at least alleviate some of the pain.

“Can you, like,” you started one day as you took a break between healing sessions, “move closer to the forest? It would make my life so much easier not having to hike up the mountain every day.”

Bakugo picked his head up from the ground and snorted some smoke at you. “Great! I know a clearing in the forest you can stay in. It’s not too far from my cottage, too.”

It was oddly surreal walking down the mountain with Bakugo slowly following behind. You made sure you were a good distance ahead of him to avoid accidentally getting trampled under his feet. The way his claws gripped at rock strong enough to crumble them to bits reminded you, yet again, that this was a powerful creature you were dealing with. A creature that the world had not seen outside their homeland for decades, maybe even centuries. The thought made you feel strangely honored.

You had to yell at Bakugo to slow down whenever he tried picking up his pace, wary of his wounds as always. He snarled and bared his teeth at you every time, but it was honestly for his own good—he could be irritated and angry all he wanted, but you were the healer in charge here. You knew he knew that—as much as he expressed that he didn’t like it.

Once you both got to the edge of the forest, it was tricky getting a dragon as big as Bakugo to fit through all the trees, but you managed by getting him to go around until he reached a big enough path.

And once he sat comfortably in the little clearing, surrounded by trees and bushes that concealed him pretty well, you took a moment to think about how strange your life had gotten.

It was clear Bakugo was getting increasingly frustrated by the day.

He snapped at you more, huffing out dark smoke that made you feel lightheaded from time to time. He put up an attitude whenever you reached out to heal him or when you offered him those small food portions. You didn’t blame him, honestly. If you were a bigass dragon and you were forced to stay in a small clearing everyday without being able to fly or move around, you’d get pretty pissed off too. You were sure the lack of sufficient food was also playing a hand at his grievances, but you were doing your best. He hunted, you were certain he did, but there was only so much he could get from the forest.

Though… there were times where you noticed he also got annoyed due to… other things.

Sometimes, you’d catch him concentrating on something—just like that day on the mountain clearing. He would concentrate and concentrate and concentrate, only to snap his eyes open and let out a frustrated roar that would echo throughout the forest and cause the bumbling sounds of the surrounding wildlife to halt for just a second—hauntingly still as though frozen in time. You never dared to go near him when he was in one of those moods—you were very much aware that he could crush you with just a snap of his jaw—but still, you wondered what he was doing.

You tried not to let him bother you too much, but well, it sometimes got rough and you would find yourself dragging your feet as you ventured out along the familiar forest path that led to him.

“I know it’s not ideal,” you told him gently one day as you worked on healing the gash on his face. He stared at you with those slitted eyes of his, unwavering. “My magic isn’t the fastest there is and I’m sorry. I wish the salves would work better, but they don’t, probably because of your different physiology.” He made a sound that was akin to a scoff, but you ignored it and continued. “We’re making progress, at least. Slowly, but surely.”

Dragons were not meant to be trapped on the ground—they were meant to be up in the air, free. You wished you could give him that freedom with a snap of your fingers, but you were painstakingly slow—limited. One day you would get there, but not anytime soon.

You ruminated, in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, on things you could do to ease some of the frustration and tension from Bakugo. Was there anything? You frowned up at your ceiling, the small tarp that covered the hole in it fluttering slightly with the night breeze. How could you get a dragon to expel its annoyances?

You thought long and hard about it for a majority of the night. Come morning, however, you awoke with a newfound vigor to your actions as you changed your clothes, packed your bag with some essentials, and bounded off in the direction of Bakugo’s temporary shelter.

He was still asleep when you reached him, the warm light of morning shining onto him through the tall canopies above in a way that made his scales gleam like freshly polished gold. This was the only time you ever saw him at ease and not tense or peeved in some way, shape, or form. You didn’t think that dragons could snore and yet here he was, a small rumble leaving his mouth as a puff of smoke exited from his nostrils. It was kind of endearing, but you knew better than to linger—the last time he caught you watching him as he slept, he nearly took your arm off.

You set about starting the healing process, concentrating on his wings for the most part that were folded close enough to the ground that you could easily reach them. The honey-like glow of your palms was a constant you had gotten used to, its warmth oddly soothing—even though it sapped out your energy like it was nobody’s business. You did notice, however, that you were getting better and better at controlling your fatigue. You supposed that made sense—with practice came improvement, even with magic.

You healed him until his head shifted as he woke up, jaws opening in a wide yawn that showed off the curved daggers he had for teeth.

“Oh good! You’re up!” you called out cheerfully as you stopped your magic and stepped away from his side so that he could see you once he turned his head around. He blinked at you hazily, sleep still addling his gaze, and you took the chance to snatch up your bag from where you’d dumped it on the ground. You shouldered it as you walked closer to his front and looked up at him. “Hope you’re down to do some walking today. We’re going on a little field trip.”

Bakugo let out a puff of smoke, his head raising slightly as he tipped it to the side and watched you with a peculiar look to his ruby eyes. It was surprisingly calculative, but also curious as well. You gave him a secretive smile and stepped back. “It’s a bit of a distance, but it’ll be worth it, I promise.” You walked over to the opening in the trees that was large enough for him to fit through and gesticulated at him to follow. “Come on, up you go, big guy.”

He chuffed and made a little rumble before his legs tensed as he pushed himself up to his feet. His wings shook out slightly, the smallest hint of a tremor running through them. There was just something… belittling, almost, about watching him do even the most mundane things, like standing. It just made you feel so small. The grass rustled underneath him as he turned around and lumbered towards you—slow, as though testing out how much effort it would take him to walk without aggravating his wounds. You waited until he was close enough, then turned and headed deeper into the forest.

You kept an eye on him as the both of you walked along a path only you were privy to, observing him to see if he was flinching or tensing in any particular areas. He seemed fine, though he occasionally let out a huff or growl at you after long stretches of just ducking between trees. You just looked back at him and gave him a smile whenever he did so, telling him that it “wasn’t much farther.” You don’t think he believed you after the third time.

The cracks and groans of branches and shrubbery beneath Bakugo’s clawed feet nearly seemed to echo through the forest, sharp like a whip. It wasn’t much different than the time he followed you down the mountain, but for some reason, you could practically feel each step he took through the ground—reverberating through your body. Maybe it was because you were both on the same level, maybe it was due to all the dirt, or maybe you were just dramatizing things. Either way, you couldn’t help the shiver that scuttled down your spine, hearing those ominous sounds behind you.

Eventually, once you both broke through the forest and followed a path further down and around Mount Kamino—away from the village and anyone else living in the area—the rock and dirt of the ground gave way to sand and fine grass. You suppressed a grin and jogged up ahead, hands clutching at your bag straps, until you stood at the top of a small hill to gaze at the view before you. Bakugo crawled up behind you, his shadow casting itself over your smaller form like a blanket as he peered over your head.

“Tada!!” You wiggled your hands at the wide, shimmering lake that seemed to stretch on for miles in all directions. Its crystal blue waters reflected an equally blue sky dotted with cotton candy puffs of clouds. Thick trees surrounded it on all ends apart from the side you were on, which instead had a small, empty beach. “Welcome to Lake Might! Named it myself after a legendary swordsman. Not a lot of people know about it—I think I’m the only one from Yuuei who’s found it, so we’ll at least have privacy. I hope.”

You swiveled your head to look at Bakugo over your shoulder as he gazed out at the lake, head turning this way and that to take everything in. He wasn’t grumbling or growling, so you took that as a good sign. “Let’s go closer,” you said as you stepped forward and slid down the hill until you got to the bottom. There was more sand here than grass, so your shoes sunk into the ground before you lifted up a foot to shake off some of the grains.

You glanced only briefly behind you to watch Bakugo start his careful descent down the hill, then scurried closer to the water’s edge so you could lay out a spare blanket you’d packed into your bag. You plopped your bag on top of it to prevent it from slipping away with the breeze and shucked off your shoes. By the time you’d started wiggling your toes into the warm sand, Bakugo had caught up and stood a few feet away from the lake.

He let out a huff of his caramel smoke and watched you once you’d stepped closer to dip your feet into the water. It was cool—a refreshing feeling that helped with the heat from the rising sun—and lapped around your ankles. You breathed in deeply, enjoying the earthy scent that surrounded you, then exhaled it all out with a happy sigh. You turned to look up at Bakugo, who was staring at you pointedly—you could practically see the question reflected in his eyes.

“I know you haven’t been in the best mood lately,” you told him gently. His chest rumbled a bit, but you ignored it. “So I thought a day at the lake might help. You could, I dunno, try to relieve some tension somehow. Relax a bit.”

Bakugo puffed some smoke into your face and made another low rumble. He moved to stare back at the lake. You waved a hand around your face, then used the same hand to scratch at your head. You thought back to all the small moments you’d caught him in and brightened when you thought of something. “Oh! Like this!”

With that, you positioned yourself so that your legs were shoulder-width apart, your front facing the seemingly endless expanse of water before you. Your hands came up to cup themselves around your mouth, and you took in a deep, deep breath.

Then, you let out the loudest scream you could muster.

It seemed to come straight from your diaphragm and traveled almost creepily across the lake like the cry of a banshee. You screamed until you ran out of breath, your vocal chords straining with its pitch. Even after your voice eventually tapered off, you could still hear it echoing towards the trees on the other side of the body of water. You waited a few seconds until you could hear nothing but the distant calls of birds and swaying motion of the lakewater before you turned to peek at Bakugo.

“Your turn.” You gave him a small grin once you saw he was looking at you in a way you would only describe as bewildered. Maybe even surprised. You made a gesture out towards the lake and stepped away slightly to give him more space. “Go crazy.”

He stared at you for a moment more, then let out a low grumble as he faced the crystalline waters and shifted closer so that it brushed against his front claws. You quietly observed him, the way he seemed to enjoy the cool breeze from the lake as it swirled by both of your forms. He took his time, but eventually, he seemed to cement his stance. His head and neck curved backwards like he was taking a deep breath of air, the powerful muscles of his shoulders tensing and coiling as his chest puffed out. His gold-dipped tail whipped around, the spikes along it bristling.

Your eyes latched onto the white glow that started within his chest—not at the base of his neck, like last time, you noticed—and shined as bright as a twinkling star. He seemed to hold it there and before you could even register what was happening, his head snapped forward as his jaws opened to release a literal hurricane of brilliant tangerine flames.

You let out a yelp and brought up an arm to shield your face, but even so, you could feel the wave of heat that washed over your exposed skin like the gentle waves of the lake against the small shore. Your hair blew back from the burst of fire that erupted from his mouth, eyes squinting to look at the mixing colors. It was so much stronger—so much more powerful—than what he had done to charcoal the meat you’d brought him. White mixed with flames of gold and blood orange that danced across the gleam of your corneas and roared in your ears. Your mouth dropped open when they reached out towards the middle of the lake—maybe even further. And you never felt so fucking tiny before in your life.

Bakugo stayed like that for what felt like hours—to the point where you wondered if he would ever run out of breath—but just as quickly as the fire had started, it stopped, disappearing with a snap of his jaw as it shut. You slowly lowered your arm, staring at the steam that wafted from the lake’s surface where the vortex of flames had been dispersed. What the hell?

You cleared your throat as you tried your best not to show how stunned you were. “Well! That seemed… cathartic. Very”—you paused for a second as you searched for the right word—“impressive.” He snorted out a puff of dark smoke as his eyes flicked over to you for just a second too long. Then, he stretched out his back and tail in a motion that kind of reminded you of a cat. You decided not to think about how easy it would’ve been for him to roast you to a crisp should he have deemed you a threat in the cave… or even food. The morbid thought of What if he had eaten you in the cave—would he have? dared to fester itself in your mind, but you pushed it down. The past was in the past—it was better to focus on the present.

You stepped back from the water and headed over to your blanket so you could shimmy out of the loose shirt and pants you’d thrown on earlier. You fully intended to make use of this lake trip to go swimming for once—you never really had the time before. The swimwear you had on underneath your loose clothing exposed more skin than you were used to, but well, it wasn’t like there was anyone out here to really see.

You tossed your regular clothes into your bag to prevent them from getting coated in sand, then waded back into the water. The temperature made you shiver as you walked in until you were submerged up to your waist, and you stood there for a bit so you could get accustomed to it. You could see a few fishes darting away from your significantly larger form as you turned around to see what Bakugo was up to. He was still lingering at the shore, slitted eyes focused on you as you gave him a wave.

“Be mindful of your wounds if you’re gonna get in the water,” you called out. “They’re still tender.” He’d be fine so long as he didn’t do any complex motions, but still, you didn’t want to risk him tearing them open in the unsanitary waters. That would just dump even more problems onto you to deal with.

You watched him contemplate entering the lake for a short moment, then decided to let him do as he pleased—you didn’t need to keep an eye on him all the time, after all. You ducked down into the water to swim around for a bit and observe the small plants that littered its sandy floor. You wondered if any of them had any special properties. It was certainly something to consider.

It was relaxing, being able to spend a day at the quiet lake. You didn’t know how much you needed the stress relief until you found yourself unwinding the longer you swam back and forth. Bakugo seemed to enjoy it as well, from what you could tell. He was content to sit in the water—just enough that it covered his legs—and occasionally breathe out his bright flames in a direction opposite of where you were. Part of you was curious if it was a physiological thing for him to be able to release his fire—if doing so was a thing he needed to do or else he’d face repercussions from his own body. Maybe, maybe not. Either way, he looked at peace—much more so than he had ever been over the time you’d been with him—in such an open environment.

Dragons and their freedom, you thought amusedly.

At one point, you found yourself floating on your back somewhere near Bakugo, lingering in the shadow casted upon the lake by his larger body. You could hear the gentle swishing of his tail as it moved leisurely back and forth through the water. You raised your head up slightly so you could peer in the direction of his moving tail—it was somewhere to your right. Your eyes flicked over to see Bakugo staring out into the blue distance of the sky, lost. Daydreaming of better times, perhaps. He didn’t look particularly pleased anymore, a sight that made you frown—maybe you could try to distract him? It was worth a shot.

As quietly as you could, you ducked under the water and swam towards him, before you popped out close enough to his tail that you could reach out and grab it whenever it swished back in your direction. You took a minute to just stare at it—it kind of looked like an aqua basilisk, its back decorated with golden spikes that got smaller and smaller towards its tip. Your eyes traced the swirling noir and tangerine designs that covered his scales.

Eventually, you found yourself reaching out towards it—briefly glancing at Bakugo once more to see if he’d noticed (he hadn’t)—before you latched onto the spikes somewhere on the middle of this tail. Your hands were just able to wrap around them—they were warm, you noted, and oddly smooth—in time for his tail to swish away from you, pulling you along through the water like some kind of strange ride.

Though, almost immediately, he stopped moving and turned his head around to shoot you an unwavering look—almost analytical, if you were reading him right. You gave him a sheepish smile, still holding onto his tail loosely. Well, now you had his attention. “You seem preoccupied. You okay?”

Bakugo eyed you, the way you draped yourself over his tail, then let out a rumble before he started slowly moving it again. You held back a grin as he pulled and pushed you through the water—at least he wasn’t in such a foul mood that he wouldn’t entertain you. That had to be a good sign, right?

After a while, though, he still appeared to be lost in thought and you ended up contemplating what else you could do to pull him out of the slight funk he was in. You had somewhat of an idea—one that would no doubtfully be detrimental for you, but fuck it.

Before you could convince yourself to wuss out, you let go of the hold you had on his tail so you could duck back underneath the shimmering waters. You swam around him and popped out near his front, by his left leg, one of your hands wiping at the wetness on your face. He hadn’t noticed you, having turned his head around so he could look back at his tail once he’d felt that you’d let go.

“Over here!” you called up at him, a small grin pulling at your lips when he moved to gaze down at you curiously. He chuffed out a column of hot air through his nose that you could just barely feel against your face from your position. You gestured at him to come closer, not really expecting him to follow through, but being pleasantly surprised nonetheless when he did lower his head so you could look into his left eye. His compliance almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do.

A mischievous smirk was all the warning you gave him before you used all the strength you could muster in your hands to send a small wave of water splashing across his face—away, of course, from the gash by his right eye (you weren’t dumb—or maybe you were?). He recoiled immediately, water dripping down the vivid scales of his cheeks and chin as he raised his head up on instinct. His ruby eyes slitted down at you, your cheeky expression, and he let out a warning growl that you would have found intimidating had you still been trapped in the cave with him.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that you kn— WAASHFS!!”

He retaliated faster than you could keep up with, his left wing reaching down to casually swipe through the water and send a literal wave crashing into your form facefirst. You fell back dramatically, the water muffling your ears and stinging at your eyes as you were body-checked into submergence.

You resurfaced with a gasp, spluttering slightly as you swiped away the hair plastered to your face so you could shoot him the stink eye. Bakugo only made a sound you would describe as a grating laugh—raspy, unpleasant, yet oddly… humorous?—that practically sawed at your eardrums. Glancing up at his face graced you with the upwards curve of his mouth and general air of arrogance that he practically exuded in mockery of your feeble splashing attempt. Oh it was on.

You’d started this war knowing there was no way you’d be able to win it. But by god you were going to try.

After what felt like hours of you doing your best to hold your own in a clearly one-sided battle, you called for a truce and pulled yourself out of the lake. Rivulets of water streamed down your body as you beelined for your blanket so you could pull out the towel you’d packed into your bag and wrap it around your shoulders. You worked on patting yourself down, glancing up momentarily when you heard Bakugo get up from his position in the lake to trail after you.

Tiny waterfalls ran down the sides of his torso and from the top of his wings as he lumbered steadily back onto land. He shook himself off, his tail flicking drops of water off to the side. You thought he was going to stop somewhere near you, but he ended up completely bypassing your form to head over to a large tree off to the side of the small beach. You watched him curiously, your eyes lingering on the large footprints he made in the sand, but it seemed all he wanted to do was lounge in the shade the tree’s canopy provided.

You mulled it over for a second, then shrugged and reached down to gather up all your belongings before you jogged after him. He’d already settled on a patch of cool grass near the trunk of the tree, his legs curled underneath his body as he positioned himself so he could still stare out at the lake. You wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to take a little nap—the warmth of the air and slight fatigue of swimming around was starting to make you feel a bit drowsy as well.

You were grateful that there was more grass under the tree than sand, but you still ended up laying out your blanket so you could rest upon it. You didn’t think wet skin pressed to dry grass would make for the most comfortable experience. Bakugo only spared you a brief glance when you plopped yourself next to his front legs and set your bag and shoes off to the side. You worked on drying your hair with your towel, enjoying the light breeze that slipped through the air and the way the lake glistened as though its waters were made of jewels.

At one point you heard your stomach let out a faint rumble, so you rifled around in your bag for a snack that you’d packed earlier. As you did, your fingers brushed against something flat and hard—you ended up pulling out a familiar black book with a phoenix etched on its cover. You’d nearly forgotten that you’d stowed it away in your bag. It’d been sitting in there for ages.

You let out a short hum, grabbed your snack, and closed your bag so you could use it as a pillow as you lay down. Your fingers ran delicately over the soft, silver brushstrokes the phoenix was made of, before you finally cracked the book open to a random page to start skimming its contents.

The fae, merpeople, witches, basilisks… You flipped on and on until you eventually landed on the page you were looking for—dragons. There wasn’t much compared to the other mythicals. You read the inky words with interest, recognizing some of the information from when you’d read the little book the day you’d purchased it.

Dragons were noble, intelligent creatures with magic so robust it was almost unfathomable. Most of this power came from gems unique to each individual dragon. These gems were either hidden or displayed on the dragon’s body somewhere, or stored somewhere safe—a place only the dragon was privy to. The author speculated this could be a hoard of sorts or a safe space, maybe even their home. No wonder hunters went after them—to hold a dragon’s gem in one’s hands meant holding the power to destroy countless villages—kingdoms, even. It would make anyone succumb to greed. You suppressed a shiver, not so subtly eyeing Bakugo from the side of your book. He’d rested his head on the ground and appeared to be dozing, if the gentle snores coming from him were any indication. You returned to your book.

The dragons, as you knew, lived in the mountainous regions to the north—areas reachable only by beings capable of flight. At least, at the time of completion of the book. Which made you wonder just how long ago it had been written. You flipped to the front page to check for a publication date and raised an eyebrow at the year: nearly a century ago. You wondered if any information was outdated or unaccounted for. Probably. You flipped back to the page you’d been on.

Dragons, you read, live in a sort of hierarchical society—evident by the kingdom they stay in. At the top are the golden-scaled, indicative of royal status, with the king himself adorned with black and tangerine markings along his body.

Wait a second— gold?! Markings?!

Your eyes snapped up to stare at Bakugo, with his scales that reminded you of the heavy coins used in the capital, and inky designs that covered him from head to tail. He slumbered on, blissfully unaware of your encroaching shock. Your jaw dropped open.

No fucking way were you dealing with the literal king of dragons. No way. What were the odds that you’d find him in a random cave? That he would even leave his kingdom? That he would— that he would get so injured that he couldn’t even fly? Finding a dragon in general was unheard of, but for him to be the king?! Were you dreaming?!

“Holy shit,” you whispered in disbelief, one of your hands smoothing at your slightly wet hair. This… kind of explained a lot actually. Was that why he often looked frustrated or distant? Why he looked longingly at the cotton-ball puffs of clouds in the sky? You’d just chalked it up to him being unable to fly or something, but what if there’d been more to it all this time? Shit, you’d be prickly too if you were the ruler of an entire kingdom and suddenly found yourself miles and miles away from home.

But— this book was pretty old. Who said any of this information was still true? You bit your lower lip, unsure what to believe. Part of you wanted to accept it, but the other part just wanted to ignore it in the hopes that it would stave off the awkwardness and embarrassment of all those times you’d rambled about nonsense to royalty. You literally incited a stupid splash war with him earlier—talk about humiliating!

Those two parts duked it out for a few more moments before you decided to just let it all go. This was something you could deal with later, when you were sure you’d gotten over the bizarreness of it all. You pushed everything away and practically forced yourself to get back to reading.

Preferred food, fire-induced magic, customs and traditions, body temperature… You found yourself getting absorbed once more in the little mythicals book, lost within its pages as the sun crawled across the sky.

And when Bakugo woke up from his nap and blinked at you sleepily, all you did was offer him a small smile.

You dedicated more and more time to healing his wings.

Day in and day out you would put all your focus, your strength, into getting those pesky wounds on his wings to disappear. It was tedious, it was draining, of course it was. But you couldn’t let him suffer like this for much longer—couldn’t let him be confined to the ground when he was meant to be amongst the clouds, the stars. Especially with what you now (possibly) knew about him.

So you worked, and you healed, and you worked some more. You woke up early, went to bed late. You stopped having long conversations whenever you were in the village. You put your garden on hold. You ran yourself down to the Earth.

And after what felt like weeks—months, even—of constant healing, your determination, your lassitude, finally paid off.

“Anndd… done!” You smiled as you stepped away from his left wing, one of your hands wiping at the perspiration that’d beaded up on your forehead. Faint, jagged scars were all that remained of the viscous tears that had previously marred the thin, leathery skin. You couldn’t help but to look at them rather proudly.

Bakugo raised his head to look at you, his wings twitching occasionally as the muscles on his back flexed. You made eye contact with him. “Okay, even though your wings are fully healed, you still need to be care—”

You didn’t even get to finish your little lecture. As soon as the words had left your mouth, his wings had shot out to give a massive flap that generated enough wind to send leaves, dust, and bits of grass up into the air. You yelped as your hair whipped around with the force of his motions, your hands moving up to shield your face. You stumbled backwards and did your best to squint at him—the wicked grin that bared his sharp teeth, the eagerness with which he tested out his capabilities.

The trees surrounding the clearing rustled and swayed as Bakugo gave a few more experimental flaps before he eventually boosted himself up into the air with an extra jump from his tensed legs. He nearly knocked you over, but you cemented yourself to the ground just to be able to watch him rapidly soar up, and up, and up—through the endless blue that stretched way beyond your reach.

A stupid little smile splayed itself across your lips when you heard him let out an exuberant roar that echoed down to the Earth, his wings and body glittering like the sun itself. He really was a sight for sore eyes, you mused to yourself, one of your hands hovering above your forehead as you squinted at him. He looked like he was having fun, soaring about, doing deep dives and impressive spins. He was free, unlimited in where he could go. And well… you were here confined to the ground, forced to watch him do things you could never even dream of accomplishing.

You let out a sigh that got lost in the openness of the clearing, quiet and wistful.

Bakugo spent quite a while just flying around, but eventually he returned to the clearing—to you, sitting under the shade of a tree as you waited for him. You got up just as he landed on the ground with a resounding thump—one that you felt in your knees and nearly made you stumble backwards.

You brushed your clothes off and wandered closer to him as he let out a chuff and stretched his back in a self-satisfied way. “Yes, yes, being able to fly again must be great,” you told him cheerily, stopping somewhere near his front so you could look at his face. He peered down at you with a snort. “But, as I was trying to tell you before, you need to be careful of your other wounds. I put them on hold so that I could focus on your wings, so they’re not in the best condition. You’ll need to stick around so I can tend to them.” You gestured at him to sit down. “Let me check how they’re doing.”

He made a little rumble but did as told, settling down on the grass with his legs tucked beneath him. You hummed to yourself as you skittered around him to poke and prod at his other wounds. They hadn’t been torn open, thankfully, and didn’t seem to be swollen or tender. No erythema either, from what you could see. Good, that was good.

“Looks great!” You gave him a thumbs up once you were done checking the gash on his face. He rumbled at you again as he raised his head. “I’ll work on them later. Finishing your wings took quite a bit out of me.” You stepped away with the intention of heading back to your cottage for some rest, but Bakugo wasn’t done with you just yet. He made a sound that had you pausing, one of your eyebrows raising at him questioningly. “Hm?”

For a moment he seemed to dawdle, his gaze flicking away from you almost like he was… Well, embarrassed wasn’t the word, exactly. Nor was it nervous. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But before you could ruminate on it even more, he turned his head to look pointedly at his wings as he gave them a small flap. Then, he looked back at you, making direct eye contact, and sunk his head down in a little bow.

“Oh!” You blinked at him in surprise, then felt a warmth spread itself across your chest and into your heart. You gave him a wide smile when he raised his head again, shy. “Well, you’re very welcome!”

Bakugo started flying around the mountain and village more often, now that he was finally able to. His mood took a turn for the better (thank god, you thought to yourself) and you saw that he was not quite as prone to frustration or anger as he was before. He still had his moments, though, when he thought you weren’t around, but at least he wasn’t snappy at you.

A part of you wondered if he would leave—he could fly back to his kingdom now, couldn’t he? He wasn’t obligated to stay, after all, and surely as king he would have resources to better treat his injuries. But no, he still stuck around, and you tried desperately to ignore how happy that made you feel.

Having him as company was nice, of course, but you wondered if it was a good idea for him to be flying around so freely—it would only draw unwanted attention. You couldn’t exactly tell him to stop flying, though. You wouldn’t do that to him, and you didn’t think he would listen to you anyways. Besides, at least he was healed enough to handle himself should trouble come poking around at the prospect of a dragon hanging around Mount Kamino.

It didn’t stop the slight unease you felt when you wandered into Yuuei for the day only to see people whispering to each other, their gazes flickering up to the sky from time to time as though they would find something there other than clouds and birds. You eavesdropped on a few conversations as you did your rounds (“Gold, too! Didn’t know they came in that color!”), then eventually made your way to a familiar pub to see what kind of gossip Denki had learned about.

Only, when you pushed open the doors to his pub, you saw an unfamiliar figure at the bar chatting with your friend.

“Oh! Hey!” Denki called out your name over the stranger’s shoulder as you walked over and leaned against the bartop with a smile. “You’re here early. Want your usual?”

“Yep.” You nodded and he started bustling around to make you your drink. You turned to face the stranger. ”Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. What’s your name?”

“I’m Kirishima Eijiro!” The red-haired man introduced himself with a blinding, sharp-toothed grin that turned a bit sheepish after a moment. “S’that obvious I’m not from here, huh? What gave it away?” he joked as he gestured down to his clearly foreign clothing: leathery-looking dark pants paired with thick boots, a thin shirt that he wore unbuttoned and displayed the smooth planes of his chest. Your eyes caught onto a black marking near his heart—it looked like some kind of tattoo, though you couldn’t quite make it out with his shirt covering most of it. Something with the sun, maybe. He was quite large and certainly strong if the way his shirt tightened around his thick arms were any indication.

“The hair,” you joked back, pointing at the spiky mess atop his head. He let out a bright laugh and ran one of his thick hands through said hair. “That and I practically know everyone in the village. Resident healer, at your service.” You gave him a silly little bow.

“Oh!” He blinked at you and leaned forward eagerly. “In that case, maybe you can help me! I’m lookin’ for a buddy of mine. About this high”—he lifted up a hand to somewhere just a bit shorter than him—”with ash-blond hair that looks like an explosion and red eyes like mine. Curses like a pirate and has these tattoos all along his arms and shoulders. He’s been missin’ for… a long time, now. I’ve been passin’ through villages asking if anyone’s seen him. Maybe you’ve… healed him?” He had a slight grimace on his face at the idea that his friend was injured.

You tapped a finger on your chin as you raked through your brain, but eventually shook your head sadly. “No, don’t think I’ve seen him, sorry.”

“Aw”—his shoulders slumped—”thanks anyways. Guess I’ll have to keep searching.”

“Enough about that— no offense, Kirishima,” Denki suddenly butted back in, nearly slamming your drink and pastry down on the bar in front of you. Kirishima held up his hands in a none taken gesture. “I wanna talk about the fucking dragon everyone’s been gossiping about.”

At that, Kirishima perked up suddenly, intrigue glistening in his ruby eyes. “Wait— dragon?”

Denki turned to give him an odd look. “You mean you haven’t heard?? Or like, even seen it?! It’s so hard to miss, flying around Mount Kamino and stuff.”

“To be fair, he is just passing through,” you told Denki before you took a sip of your drink.

“What does the dragon look like?” Kirishima asked curiously, his eyes darting between you and Denki.

“Gold,” you replied before Denki could. “With black markings.”

Denki gave you an odd look. “How the hell were you able to see that? I just heard that it’s gold.”

You shrugged and took a bite of your pastry to avoid looking at either of them. You still didn’t think it would be a good idea to bring up the fact that you’d been healing said dragon all this time. “I spend a lot of time on Kamino.” And that was all you said on the matter. Denki looked like he wanted to press you for more, but Kirishima beat him to the punch.

“Where is Mount Kamino?” he asked you, his eyes locked on your face with a surprising amount of calculative intensity. You only pointed to one of the pub’s windows that had a view of the mountain beyond it. Kirishima wandered over to the window to peer through it, then turned around with a steadfast gleam to his eyes.

“Thanks for everything, guys. I’m gonna take my leave! Have a good one!” he called out as he beelined right for the door, barely catching the confused farewells you and Denki returned to him. The two of you stood there staring at the pub’s exit for a moment. You hoped he wasn’t a hunter or anything—it was pretty obvious where he was heading. But well, you hadn’t seen any weapons on him, so you supposed he was fine. Hopefully.

Denki was the first to break the silence. “You think I’ll get more business if I started selling dragon-shaped cookies?” You snorted and rolled your eyes.

A few days later, you were steadily picking your way through the forest to the clearing that held Bakugo when you heard a strange rustling. You paused, eyes wide as you looked around carefully. It wasn’t unusual for you to hear the odd sound or see the occasional wild animal while you were wandering around. But this didn’t sound like an animal. If you listened close enough, you could hear soft footsteps. The fact that it was so close to where Bakugo was put you a bit on edge—what if it was someone who’d gotten a bit too curious in light of recent village news?

You stood there, simply listening. You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary as you peered in the direction of the rustling, only trees and overgrown shrubs. The sound eventually faded away into the distance—opposite of the direction you were headed in. You let out a sigh of relief. It was probably an animal, you reassured yourself as you continued to where Bakugo was impatiently waiting for you. You forgot about it soon enough.

And when you offhandedly mentioned to Denki, some time later, that you hadn’t seen Kirishima around after your first meeting with him, he responded with: “Oh, yeah! He left a bit ago. Said he found his pal and went back home.”

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