#dabis laughed and left

[seleoipe]

haircuts are hard :C

[crushmeeren]

Sex chocolate with Hawks, Dabi, Aizawa and maybe Toshinori???

⋆ ft. izuku ⋆

⋆ this is written as if the guys didn’t know they’d eaten the chocolate and how they’d react to the treat. sorry I didn’t put Toshinori in this, I’m not quite sure how to write his personality yet. (ó﹏ò｡)

𝛏 master list link 𝛏

// @emmab3mma hope you enjoy! ₊˚ʚ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Izuku’s lips would tug into a sheepish smile, no doubt thankful for the sweet treat pick me up. His eyes would brighten, a satisfied hum dancing in the air.

Izuku would be unbearably jittery out on patrol that evening, hopping from the sidewalk on one side the street to the other, green light crackling in his wake. He’d do it mindlessly, thoughts wandering to you and what you currently could be doing.

Suddenly, he’d be flailing mid air when he vividly imagines you on your knees, plush lips stretched so wide on his cock he knows it must hurt your mouth. Izuku would stumble when he hit the concrete, catching himself on the bench nearby.

Izuku’s expression would twist from calm to horrified, thoughts running a mile a minute when he steadies himself and realizes his cock is…hard. Throbbing. Straining against his hero suit. He’d make haste running to the nearest building with a public restroom.

Izuku would shut the door to the restroom and lock it before anyone could even notice he entered. He’d be frantic, shoving his pants down mid thigh as he leaned against the wall and hissed through his teeth when the cool air hit his freely bobbing cock.

He’d have a million concerns in the back of his head but not be able to focus on a single one. Izuku would have a one track mind, wrapping a hand around himself and jerking until he came in less than 20 seconds to the image of you on your knees.

Izuku would be so embarrassed afterwards, cheeks bright pink as he adjusts his clothes and washes his hands.

Being as smart as he is, he’d have a suspicion this is related to the chocolate you gave him and he intends to find out once he’s home. Once he returned, he’d tease you until you’re on the edge of tears and blurting out the truth, fucking you until your mind whites out and you scream his name.

Lucky you.

Keigo would give you a flirty grin, winking playfully as he snatched the chocolate from you and swallowed it within two bites. You’d give him an unimpressed look but he’d just laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Keigo isn’t surprised when he got a boner while soaring through the skies on the way to his agency. He’d been thinking about you anyways and his dick getting hard wasn’t uncommon when he thought of you. It’d be fair to say that happened often, if he’s honest.

Keigo would take note of the violent flush crawling down his neck and snaking under the fuzzy collar of his flight jacket. He’d suck his bottom lip in between his teeth and adjust his cock in his pants so it’s sticking straight up instead of outward.

He’d be able to somewhat focus on the business meeting he didn’t want to attend in the first place, only being reprimanded a few times more than normal for zoning out.

Keigo’s pulse would thunder. He’d wear a neutral expression, letting his chin rest in his propped up hand as he sent a feather to find and turn on the air because why the fuck is it so hot in here?

He’d text you something filthy as discreetly as he could under the table, biting his knuckles when you sent back a picture of yourself with your tits on display. Keigo would come to the conclusion that maybe he was a bit more pathetically horny than normal and he needed to ditch this meeting yesterday.

Keigo would go straight home, ignoring anyone who had tried to speak with him on his way out. He’d find you on the couch with nothing on but an oversized shirt and waving what’s left of the chocolate bar at him with a smirk when he entered through the balcony.

He wouldn’t even be upset when you told him what you’d done. He’d just crowd close, looming over you with a wolfish grin that shot a thrill down your spine.

Keigo would succumb to the aphrodisiac completely. He’d bend you over the backrest of the couch at hip level and wrench your arms taut behind you, fingers circling your wrists to secure you in place.

Keigo would have no mercy, sliding his cock in your tight pussy before you’re turned on enough to take him smoothly. He’d send a feather down to play with your clit until you strain to escape, not stopping despite your pleas because “this is what you wanted, isn’t it baby? yeah, so stop yapping and take it.”

In the end all you can do is nod, because if you truly wanted him to stop you’d only have to say the safe word.

Shouta would raise an eyebrow with a bored expression on his features. He’d roll his eyes and eat the chocolate after you pushed your lower lip out and fluttered your lashes at him.

Shouta’s a sucker for you.

He’d be grading papers that afternoon, knuckles rubbing at his sleepy eyes in the office of your shared home. He’d take a break, pressing his palms to his eyes and resting his elbows on the desk.

A scenario would pop into his head, one where you sat on the edge of the desk while he’d relax in his chair and lazily eat you out. He can imagine the way your clit would feel against his tongue, how warm and soft your pussy would be on his lips.

Shouta would lean back in the chair, a hand absently dropping to his lap to palm his cock and he’d be startled at just how much he’d filled out already. His dick hot and sticking to his inner thigh. Shocked at the unavoidable thick warmth swirling in his belly when it’d usually take a bit more than a brief daydream to get this worked up.

He’d be certain that you had something to do with this and irritation would lance through him. He’d sit in the kitchen once he’s finished, arms crossed and cock stubbornly refusing to flag until you returned home.

Shouta would ask you about it as if he were asking a child if they had stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. Easily, you admit to it. No hesitation, no shame, just a smug air about you.

Then, Shouta would make his fantasy a reality. He’d eat your pussy until you were right on the edge of cumming and then he’d stop. He’d speak condescendingly, saying “poor baby, your pussy just wants to cum doesn’t she?” as he sits you roughly down on his cock.

He’d spank you a few times, teasing you a bit more but he’d make you cum so intensely your toes would cramp — and then he’d keep going until his own brain got fuzzy.

Touya would say fuck no at first. He doesn’t like chocolate. Until you mention there’s something special about the sweet and he assumes it’s an edible. You don’t bother to correct him because, technically, it is an edible, just not the kind filled with weed.

Touya would be leaning his back against the railing on your balcony, angled so he can peer into the open doors of your living room. He’d have a cigarette dangling from his lips, scrubbing at his cheek with one hand because yeah, his cheeks are typically roasting but they’re never this hot.

He’d shrug it off and nonchalantly light up the cigarette with his pointer finger. He’d startle as the tiny flame bursts into a fireball that he really didn’t mean to create when you stride past the doorway in soft shorts that show the crease of where your thigh joins your ass.

You’d freeze mid step and turn to stare at him incredulously, lips parted slightly when the aftershock of heated air damn near singes your skin.

Touya would be flustered. Cheeks painted rosy pink with embarrassment at the lack of control over his quirk. He’d scowl harshly, pinching his brows together as he dropped and stomped on his cigarette to put it out. He’d stalk towards you and snarl “why the hell are you wearing those fucking shorts?” as if his sudden overbearing lust is your fault specifically.

You’d roll your eyes and begin walking in the direction you’d intended in the first place but Touya would snatch your wrist tight enough the bones grind together and drag you to your bedroom. He’d ignore your obviously fake bewildered expression and shove you onto the mattress. He can’t focus on the fact that you seem to be going along with this a bit too easily.

His cock would be jumping and pushing painfully against the zipper of his jeans before he so much as kissed you. He wouldn’t get either of you truly naked, he’d just slide your soft shorts to the side and unzip his jeans. He’d shove your shirt to your collarbone so he could watch the way your tits are about to bounce.

Touya would yank your ankles up and over his shoulders until the backs of your thighs press into his chest and then fold you in half like you’re a fucking blanket. He’d tilt his hips until his tip catches on your pussy and then he’s shoving his cock all the way inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

Touya wouldn’t have the self control to stop for a long time that evening and you’d almost regret giving him the chocolate. Almost.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard. 

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time. 

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again. 

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life. 

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism. 

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols. 

And now he slanders you on national television? 

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this. 

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.” 

“There is.” 

“There isn’t.” 

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed. 

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.” 

“You serious?” 

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff. 

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you. 

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour. 

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting. 

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.” 

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair. 

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother. 

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour. 

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away. 

“Are we understood?” 

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless. 

“Now, how about that food you���re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh. 

“Katsuki.” 

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep. 

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend. 

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue. 

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts. 

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod. 

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”  

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you. 

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired,  too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes. 

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears. 

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you. 

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off. 

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him. 

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member. 

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down. 

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you. 

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?” 

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be. 

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him. 

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.” 

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.” 

You don’t. 

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish. 

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears. 

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest. 

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time. 

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.” 

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

[suksatoru]

003. CARNATIONS

Shoto is a lot like Touya.

He's currently reading over his older brothers progress report quietly. Shoto was barely seventeen, but he was incredibly mature for his age. Out of all the Todoroki, no one was more dedicated to Touya's recovery than his youngest brother.

Shoto doesn't talk much. You would soon learn it's not because he was shy or anything, he was just a naturally quiet person. Meeting him in person for the first time surprised you a bit. He would write to you often—telling you all he remembered about his big brother and details from the war.

The villain 'Dabi' used to be all over the news. You remember his early days in the League, where he'd first made his big debut. You'd be studying in your dorm, the small TV playing recent events and information on the League of Villains. Their pictures would be plastered everywhere as the most wanted villains in all of Japan.

He was made out as a person to fear—the whole group was. His name was dragged through the mud online, and his persona to the world was one of a merciless killer who had no heart.

If only you knew he'd become someone you'd grow to know.

"I'm glad you're his doctor, Miss L/n."

You glance up at Shoto, snapping out of the daze you were in as you send him a surprised smile

Shoto and Touya's features are so similar. Both of them have the same, soft curl of their lips when they're trying to smile, something they obviously don't do often. Their noses are alike too—you can see the small pieces of them in each other. If you could point out the similarities between them even when most of Touya's skin was covered with bandages, you thought about how much more alike they'd look after Touya was healed completely.

He talks fondly about his brother, even after all he went through—Shoto doesn't show even a hint of anger towards Touya.

"When can I meet him?"

Shoto's smile is a small one, but the gleam of unwavering hope in his eyes is heartwarming to see. He truly loved Touya.

"We're nearing the end of his first month here. So I'd like to say soon! His communication skills with me show that he's able to hold conversations and express his emotions to a certain degree. But I'd like to give him a little more time, Shoto. What he went through was years of mental and physical strain. I want him to be comfortable with the idea of seeing you again. Do you think you can hold out a little longer for me?" You ask gently, and Shoto blinks in response before slowly nodding his head

"Of course. I... that was wrong of me to ask so early. I don't think he'd like to see me, anyways." He says with a bittersweet smile. His tone held no resentment, and you reach forward to hold his hand. His fingers fit snug in yours, and after a moment—he gives your hand a thankful squeeze.

It looked like Shoto and Touya's relationship would be one of the many things you would help mend.

Shoto left after half an hour, his heart feeling lighter than when he first came.

You were exactly what Touya deserved.

You were slowly learning that Touya had a lot of odd mannerisms. With spending so much of your time with him, it would only make sense that you would pick up on them eventually.

For instance, Touya didn't care for much spicy food. He'd always make a face when you fed him something on the hotter side, begrudgingly swallowing down the food as he complained about the aftertaste it left in his mouth.

You twirl the chopsticks through his noodles idly while carefully leaning over his bandaged arms to feed him his Soba—a meal Shoto had told you about when he wrote to you about his older brother. You still remember the glimmer of surprise in Touya's eyes at the sight of what seemed to be a nostalgic meal for him.

He almost looks embarrassed by the fact that you're feeding him as he opens his mouth for you—quickly chomping down on the soft noodles as he chews slowly, watching you with narrowed eyes. It's hard not to laugh as he squints at you, the soft pale skin around his eyes crinkled even further when he spotted your small smile.

He doesn't comment on it, resorting to flicking through the few channels he was allowed to watch on the TV. His arm was draped over the side of his bed, his bandaged fingers grazing your knee every now and then from where you sat in the seat right beside his bed. He never moved his hand away when the pads of his fingertips touched you—sometimes it seemed like he was purposely trying to poke you, but you brushed away the prospect.

"Do you like the food, Touya? It smells really good!"

He meets your gaze with a soft grunt, stretching out his legs in front of him as he nods his head.

"It's fine. Better than the shit I ate before all this." He says, waving his hand around the hospital room as you slowly nod your head

"Really? How so? What did you eat before?"

He shrugs, and the fact that he doesn't really care about his once poor diet must be what makes you tap your foot nervously against the tiled floor beneath you. His transcript said he'd been missing since he was 13. Had he really been living so carelessly and alone since then?

Touya had gone through the most important development years of his life all by himself while being unable to control his quirk. You remember the day they first brought him in after the war, the pictures before his surgery were so heartbreaking to see when you were first handed his file. But doctors were miracle workers, and you were all trying to help him in different ways

The price for Touya's recovery was not small.

"Well, now you're going to be eating all sorts of delicious and healthy foods! Fresh vegetables and fruits with big meals that'll fill your stomach. What we eat is really important, and you certainly need the energy from the nutrients!"

He rolls his eyes as he chews, but nods nonetheless. As you go to feed him another bite of his Soba, his nose scrunches up a bit as he leans back in his bed

"Does that bite have a piece of broccoli in it?"

"Touya."

You managed to feed him the rest of his meal before getting him a change of clothes. A simple black lounge set that would be comfortable for him to walk outside in.

Today, you were going to bring him to one of your favorite places in the hospital.

He peers around the recreational garden curiously, as if he was scoping out the area for any threats. Touya's eyes are attentive and careful as he keeps an eye out on the other patients—who were simply minding their own business. This however, did not mean they were saved from Touya's menacing glares.

He walked beside you, and you had to put some distance between you and him so you didn't have to feel him towering over you as you both walked. You remain a pace ahead and you turn back to him with a soft smile that quickly captures his attention.

"You and I will have weekly walks here. The gardens are so beautiful Touya—this environment is great for your mind. It allows you to relax. The other patients here are lovely, all right? They won't bother you." You say softly, and he nods his head as he finally averts his gaze from everyone else to look solely at you. Quickly, you begin walking again as you lead him down the various paths in the garden

"You're free to come here whenever you'd like! You don't really have a curfew because, well, you're not leaving the facility. But it would be ideal if you come back in time for dinner! I'm free if you ever need someone to talk to or walk with." You remind him gently, and Touya wants to nod his head and say something along the lines of 'okay, thank you' or anything decent, but he finds the words stuck in his throat.

What would the people from his past say if they saw him now? He was such a big talker. He still was, but here in your presence—he found himself almost shying away. It was embarrassing. He shouldn't be thinking so hard on how to say thank you for something so simple and stupid that left your sweet lips. Was he really that messed up? Can he not even say thank you?

You tilt your head at him with a small smile, and he's almost annoyed with how well you're able to read him. It seems like you know exactly what he's thinking whenever you look at him—sure, that was kind of your job. But it felt different for Touya, more personal.

"Thanks. I guess." He mutters, leaning against the brick wall behind him as he peers around the garden, taking in the scenery and stone arches that were made throughout the entirety of it - flowers and vines crawling up their sides as they bathed in the warm sunlight.

You spend the rest of the evening telling him all about the history of the hospital—about the founder, an honorable man, and all the people who helped make it. It was a place for new beginnings. And when you said that, you see a bit of the tension release from Touya's usually clenched fists. By the end of your walk with him, his fists had uncurled completely as they laid relaxed at his sides.

Touya didn't ever seem to notice when he was invading your personal space. There were a few times where you got lost in speaking, and it always made your heart rate spike when you turned around to ask him a question or just to check how he's faring and he'd be standing right there beside you. Barely a step away from having his breath tickle your skin. But the moment you moved even an inch closer to him, it was like he suddenly became hyper-aware of his surroundings.

He didn't really know why he was so against touching people. Maybe it was because he hadn't received a lick of affection since he was a kid—and even then, his life was so messed up that he can't even remember liking the tenderness of a hug or a kiss from a loved one.

Now that he thinks about it, he's never really had anyone to touch.

So when he's lowering himself onto the hospital bed with a tired sigh at night, he freezes when he feels your soft hand pressing itself onto his upper arm.

"Let me help—"

"Don't touch me."

He wants to take the words back the moment the words leave his mouth. But even then, he quickly slips out of your grasp and sits on the edge of the bed. He's laying down and peering up at the ceiling with a grimace. Ashamed.

Please don't hate me, are the first words that come to his mind when he squeezes his eyes shut. He'd understand, is what he tells himself—if you walked out and left him right then and there. He must be becoming such a burden, such a pain for you—

Touya feels a soft blanket being thrown over his long frame, the fabric quickly covering him as you peer over the bed and hover over him. His breath hitches in his throat as you do, mainly at the sight of you peering down at him so nicely. It makes his chest feel unbearably tight.

"Goodnight, Touya."

You're met with silence. You turn his lamp off, and he lays quietly as he watches you pack up your things. Clipboards and pens and cards from a small game you two had played after breakfast all go into your bag. The moonlight streaming through the window is the only form of light he needs to see that you're not angry with him. Your eyes don't look mad—you look perfectly content as you pack your bag as you routinely do.

You sling your bag over your shoulder once you're all packed, leaving the room as quietly as you did when you had entered the same morning. He doesn't know how long he stays awake, but he stares at the glow in the dark stars plastered on his ceiling until he can see them even after he closes his eyes.

It was going to be another long, sleepless night for him.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; FAWKKK did i get everyone who wanted to be tagged?? i hope so. please let me know if you'd like to be added, removed, or if i missed you! (i am so sincerely sorry if i did!! please lmk once again!) i've got some very sad&happy plans heheh. do you guys have any ideas on what you'd like to see?? i'm curiousss!

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@bbluefllame @summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

@hawkwithsocks @suresnips @sugurusmoon @matchablossomsss @moonlitmorganite

@redr0sewrites @muimuiwisteria @sukunaspillow @marsoverthestars @starsryi

@eidolonwriter @dabislittlemouse

[simplyraeblue]

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

No Regrets (Hawks x reader)

!femreeader x hawks when your best friend shows up after a near death experience, claiming he couldn't leave this world with regrets; so, he fucks you stupid. WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing, NSFW, smut, p in v, creampie, hawks tops in this one, oral (f receiving) mentioned, squirting, hickies, idk man I just want hawks so bad, kind of straight into smut less plot A/N: my entire tik tok fyp has been hawks edits, so this is the result. it took me forever to decide if I wanted him to be a top or a bottom in this one, but I'm all for pillow princesses so he's a top in my mind ◦ ◡ ◠ I need to write more hawks, but maaaaybe aizawa or dabi next? word count: 1,903

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

you and Keigo had been friends for quite awhile, even before you left the public safety commission, so it was no surprise when he showed up on your balcony, knocking on the window. but this time, he was banging on it urgently.

“where’s the fire?” you teased with a smirk as you slid the door open. he didn’t respond, instead stepping past you into your studio apartment in a rush. “whoa, what crawled up your pants?”

“don’t.” his voice was low, deeper than you’d ever had aimed at you, as he paced around your room, his wings fluttering restlessly.

“you’re starting to freak me out Kei. what’s going on?” you reached for his shoulder, hoping to calm him down, but he grabbed your wrist tightly.

“I need to tell you something, doll. a secret, of sorts.” finally, he met your gaze, and you shivered at the intensity in his darkened eyes. what the hell has happened?

“okay, I’m listening.”

Keigo sighed and released your wrist, resuming his pacing. “you know how we’ve been friends for years now.” you nodded. “well, there’s something that I can’t seem to get off my mind.”

“and that is?”

“you.” he looked at you again, and you would have laughed at his joke had his face not been so serious. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

your heart began to pound rapidly as you tried to decipher his meaning. “what… what are you saying?”

Keigo stepped closer to you, his wings shuddering in response when his hand came up to cup your cheek. “I’m saying… I’m saying that I had a close call today. too close. and I knew that if it was my time, I’d be leaving this world without doing the one thing I’ve been wanting to.”

before you could even attempt to respond, to ask what had happened, Keigo’s face started to lower closer to yours. his breathing felt strained as his breath warmed your cheeks and you realized you’d stopped breathing.

“I don’t want to ever leave with regrets.” he whispered, his lips now inches from yours. 

as you realized what was about to happen, your palms began to sweat. you’d thought about this happening many times before since you’d met the cocky bastard who’d worked his way into your heart. but you’d always shoved those ideas down in the name of friendship.

hero work meant the next day might not be guaranteed, everyone knew that. you’d made your peace with it when you started working for the commission – but ever since meeting Keigo, you wanted a million tomorrows.

“then, make it count.” you finally responded to him with a shaky voice. when you gave him the go-ahead, the darkness in his eyes lit up with hope.

in one fluid motion, he closed the gap, his lips meeting yours with a rough urgency. it was passionate, and as the kiss deepened it ignited a spark that sent warmth coursing through your veins. his hands cradled your face, his wings wrapping around you as he pulled you flush against him.

but it didn’t stop there. no – the both of you were desperate for more, every thought and feeling that you’d both had coming to fruition in this moment. Keigo guided you backward until your legs hit your bed, falling backward onto the blankets underneath him. 

“Kei…” you whimpered under his touch, becoming a puddle of mush as his hand explored you. 

“tell me you don’t want this.” he said under his breath, his voice straining with the amount of strength it was taking him to hold back from ripping your clothes off with his teeth.

“I want you.” you answered before rolling your hips upwards into his. he groaned at the contact against his hard-on hiding in his pants, eyes rolling back slightly at the feeling. “I need you, Keigo Takami.”

and with that, the last bit of strength holding himself back snapped under the weight of your words. his lips crashed into yours again, pulling out your bottom lip with his teeth as he started to literally rip your clothes off. 

you heard the first rip of your top, the fabric being thrown to the side by his hands. ah, you’d get another shirt. then, his hands feverishly worked to undo the buttons of your jeans, leaning back to slide them down your legs and discarding them on the floor.

“s’ pretty. been thinking ‘bout this for years, doll.” Keigo hummed into your thighs as he placed soft kisses on your skin before removing his clothing in a flash. it was like you’d taken a long blink, and then he was standing naked and proud in front of you.

you’d always imagined what his cock might look like, once teasing him by saying he probably had feathers for pubes, but whatever you’d concocted in your mind wasn’t even close. it was larger than you’d anticipated, with short, blonde hair curled at the base. 

and to drive you even crazier, his tip was already leaking with precum.

“I’m sorry I told you your dick was small.” you giggled, your cheeks flushing pink as you remembered the insult you’d thrown at him after a tough mission. 

Keigo smirked at you with a raise brow, crossing his arms over his chest as if he was proud. “yeah, I knew you’d regret that one day. now, let me prove you wrong.”

he crawled back over top of you, his fingers dipping between your legs and humming in delight when he found you already wet for him. you hissed as he circled your clit, deliciously slow and teasing, before pushing two fingers inside of you.

“fuck you’re already dripping me for, aren’t you doll.” Keigo purred as he curled his fingers, prodding at your slick walls to find your gummy g-spot. “can’t wait t’ feel it for myself.”

through your labored breathing, you panted out, “what are you waiting for then?” 

“hm, so impatient.” he grinned wickedly as he pulled his fingers from your pussy before putting them in his mouth to lick up your juices. “taste ‘s good, gonna have to try it later.”

“later.” you snapped as you attempted to hook your legs behind him, only being met with his hands pushing your knees apart in a spread.

“gonna fuck you stupid first, is that alright?” you nodded as you watched his weeping tip line up with your entrance, rubbing up and down to tease your clit. “gonna fill you up s’ good.”

“please, Kei, just fuck me already.” you whined as your hips bucked to try and meet his.

“if you say so.” he wasted no time once he pushed his tip in, driving hard into you to stretch your walls around his throbbing dick and bottoming out immediately, both of you moaning out in pleasure.

“ah – fuck – I take back what I said about your dick size.” you squealed as his tip nudged your cervix, your gummy walls struggling to mold around him without pain. “you’re really fucking big.”

“and you’re really fucking tight.” Keigo groaned before dipping his head into your neck. his hands pressed into the backs of your knees, pushing them up in your chest to fold you in half while he began thrusting his hips slowly. 

“how have we not done this before?” with every thrust, you were seeing stars shooting across your vision. as he bullied your cervix you couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his back with every nudge. 

“someone – mph – was playing hard to get.” he bit your neck lightly, sucking the skin between his teeth to mark you. “now, you’re gonna be mine. is that okay, doll?”

“abso-fucking-lutely.” you managed to respond before all words were lost on you when he delivered a mean slam of his hips into you. “ah fuck Keigo!”

“that’s it, take my cock. y’ already milking me for everything I’ve got.” 

sweat began to drip down your temple as he fucked you rougher with every drive of his cock. your poor neighbors were probably hearing every lewd wet smack of his balls against your ass and every moan the two of you shared. Keigo was driving you to the brink of insanity, and fucking you stupid just as he said.

before your orgasm got too close, he gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your back flush against his chest as he continued to thrust into you. his teeth raked over the skin of your shoulder, biting and kissing marks there to match the one he left on your neck.

you were pretty sure his cock was going to bruise your cervix in this position as you moaned with a mix of pain and white-hot pleasure. he was so much deeper this way, taking every inch that you could give to him. 

you’re so lost in the pleasure at the point that you don’t even realize his thrusts are getting sloppier as he reached down to rub circles around your clit. “Keigo, ‘m gonna – hah- I’m gonna come.” you panted breathlessly, your eyes already screwed shut at the tightness wound in your abdomen. “you’re gonna make me come.”

“that’s right, come all over my dick pretty girl. lemme – fuck you’re getting tighter - lemme feel you.” Keigo ground out into your neck, his fingers working faster on your sensitive nub. with every pinch he delivered to your apex, you were losing every thought in your mind. 

just as your orgasm began, Keigo pulled you up off of him just slightly, his tip teasing your hole as he rubbed at your clit brutally quick, sending you skyrocketing into your release. “fuck!” you yelled out as your entire body tensed up, and you could hear your fluid squirt out of you as you came. you dumbly rubbed your pussy against the tip of his cock to ride out your high, already feeling the mess dripping down your thighs.

“s’ fucking good for me, squirted all over me you wicked thing.” Keigo gasped before driving his cock into you again, this time finding his own release within your warm, wet walls milking every ounce of cum from his tip as he painted them white. “fuck I’m filling you up.”

as Keigo rode out his orgasm, his hands gripped your hips hard enough you were sure they’d bruise as he slammed into you until overstimulation began to take over. finally, when he deemed himself satisfied, he pulled out to lean back and watch his cum drip from your cunt.

“god this is fucking sexy.” he panted as he pushed two fingers inside of you to shove his cum back in, sending a warm shiver through your body as you collapsed down onto the bed. 

you’d thought you were spent, your orgasm leaving your body wracked and numb, but when his fingers continued to push in and out of you, you knew he wasn’t done yet.

“wanna taste me now?” you teased, and he grinned wickedly at you. you took that as a yes before he dipped his face between your legs.

you lost count of how many orgasms you’d had, both from him devouring you and fucking you all over again, as you lay on your back to watch his feathers floating in the air above your bed. 

no regrets, right? you’d told each other that before passing out, still drenched in sweat and naked, in each other’s arms.

no regrets.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Link to Kirishima x reader here (word count: 902)

Link to Shoto x reader pt. 1 here (word count: 1,800)

Link to Kaminari x reader pt.1 here (word count: 2,680)

Link to Bakugo x reader here (word count: 2,328)

Link to Aizawa x reader here (word count: 1,930)

[deadhands69]

Sex Quirk [Tomura Shigaraki] pt 1

MDNI

Shigaraki x gn/afab reader

This ended up about 4x longer than expected so it's broken into two parts. Here's the first part, more of a precursor to the actual smut. Here's the second part.

Warnings/content/etc: minor violence (Shiggy dusts someone), unestablished relationship, discussions of sex and implied future sexual situations, swearing.

It’s too beautiful of an early summer evening to stay in so you, Shigaraki, Dabi, and Spinner decide to go for a walk. Even villains need to get out of the house for supplies every once in a while. Hoodies pulled over your heads, you can stay fairly incognito when you need to. Plus, when it’s busy enough out on a night like tonight, no one really pays attention to any one particular person. 

About 5 minutes into your walk, the sidewalk widens and a small crowd surrounds a cafe. The busy area. Head down, you walk ahead of the group and move to pass around everyone. Unnoticed. Happy to be in the world.

Then you hear it.

A woman screams from the window one story up and you hear glass shatter as a figure emanating black dust falls onto the sidewalk ahead of you. Looking up at you, he smiles, sending a cold chill down your spine. 

Glaring at him, you exclaim “hey-”

BOOM.

He burst into an inky cloud once more, leaving you and everyone else in darkness. 

Screaming. Running. Shoving.

Not a big deal. You’re used to being caught up in the chaos, it was part of your job. The thick air was difficult to breathe in though.

And just like that, the dust dissipated leaving nothing to show for the commotion. 

And you felt - weird? Is that the word for it?

You adjust your shorts and feel a deep ache. The rub of your underwear sends warmth radiating through your body, leaving you throbbing and empty. Fuck. 

Thinking back to the news running in the background at the LOV headquarters that morning, you remember what you heard about some sexist d-list villain’s quirk: overwhelming arousal to the point of insanity. Also something else about it only affecting adult female bodies - which unfortunately includes you and quite a few other people on the street. Maybe you should have paid more attention but it didn’t seem important at the time. Could you do anything about this? There’s no time to think about it right now, revenge first. 

You’d remember his perverted face but he was nowhere to be seen. Must have run. Looking around, you see Spinner talking to a girl - she looks nice. Dabi, always the opportunist, is already leaving with two girls on his arms. Tomura, standing by you looking just as confused as everyone else.

Accessing your surroundings further, you see where he went.

If you were trying to escape, you’d run down the alley behind the dumpsters. It was dimly lit. A much better hiding place than the busy sidewalk with all the streetlights. Heroes would show up any minute now.

Quickly, you sprint across the street, using one arm to launch yourself over the trash. A shadow of a human is visible ahead of you, you were correct. He begins to run when he sees you but you already have the momentum. Out of options, he disappears into a small stairwell.  

Cornered, you stand in front of him and - 

Wait. No. You try again. And again. Your quirk isn’t working. What the fuck.

His creepy face breaks into a laugh “Oh, that’s part of it. Before chasing someone down a dark alleyway, shouldn’t you at least know all of what their quirk does?” 

Everything goes black and you’re once again left coughing. He activated his quirk again??

You feel someone push you out of the way. As the black cloud disappears into grey dust, Tomura Shigaraki looks over his shoulder at you. You know exactly what happened.

A wave of dizziness hits you when you stand and you feel a rush of heat through your body once more.

You see him do this all the time. Is this somehow hotter than usual? Or is it just the effects of the quirk? Both? 

“You got hit twice?” he asks, slightly scolding. 

“My - my quirk won’t work.” 

A voice down the alleyway echoes between the buildings. Time’s up. The two of you leave quickly, opting to walk through the park to avoid streets that were certain to be full of heroes now.

“May cause dizziness, loss of mental clarity, and extreme arousal” Shigaraki read from his phone.

“Oh my god, you sound like a bad prescription commercial” you laugh, still unsure how to feel.

It felt better having him here though. You were used to walking home together. The league would usually split off in their own directions and more often than not, you’d somehow end up with Shigaraki. It feels nice. Familiar. He was usually much more quiet though.  

“It looks like his quirk is unregistered, so there’s not a lot here. Maybe some news articles will have more.” Shigaraki mumbles into his hair before continuing his research. “According to this, it gets neutralized by...” he trails off, his face reddening. 

“What fixes it?” you ask, already having an idea of what the answer is.

“Sex.” he says, wide eyes quickly glancing from under his hair at your reaction. “Can’t I just do it myself?”

“Doesn’t seem like it. This other article has more on that. Oh, definitely not. There’s a whole psych ward of people who tried. It’s pretty fucked up, want to see?” “No, I’ll see that soon enough.” you mumble to yourself.

You sigh and pick up the pace. Unsure why you’re walking so fast or where you’re going, it’s not like you’re about to spend your last sane moments begging some random to fuck you. You wouldn’t let yourself be that desperate. Even if you did, you’re a villain and you know your personality can come across cold to strangers - it probably wouldn’t work even if you did try. 

You continue what feels like a death march to nowhere.

Without warning, the world shifts and the dizziness worsens, forcing you to lean into a cherry blossom tree before sliding your weight to the ground. Staring up at the puffy pink branches above, it seems nice. If this is the end, so be it. You could do without the overwhelming horniness but it could be worse. You watch as each cluster of flowers splits in two and spins like a kaleidoscope.

Two fingers tapping your shoulder pull you back to reality. Bringing your eyes back down, you see a sky blue outline with vivid red eyes seated in front of you. Blinking, Shigaraki comes into focus.

“I could help you, you know, if you want it.” He looks mildly annoyed, focusing hard on the ground.

You couldn’t believe your ears. 

In a daze, you try to process what you’ve heard. “Like…sex?”

“Yeah.” he rolls his eyes, toying with a blade of grass.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. Every once in a while, you’d be out doing league things when you caught him at the right angle and couldn’t help but stare. Or when he brushed past you in the hallway, moving close enough for your heart to feel like it would jump out of your throat. Sometimes, you even thought you saw him staring back but pushed those thoughts aside. He was always busy and seemed to care more about world destruction and video games than real human interaction. Maybe he was just being nice. He does a lot for the league, you’re sure he’d miss your help but is that enough to-

“Hey!” he waves you out of your thoughts. “It’s getting late, y/n. Do you want my help or not?” He sounds irritated but looks flustered. Eyes still to the ground, you watch the grass he’d been playing with decay between his fingers. Before you can answer, he added “I can try to make it fast for you but I also get if you don’t want me to touch you.”

“Oh.” He must have taken your slow reaction for rejection. “It’s not like that, I’m just - trying to figure this out. Yeah. I’d love your help.” you say before realizing how much you really mean it. 

“Okay, yeah. Well, you better get off the ground then and we can go home.” he says trying to hide nervousness under a gruff front. 

You press yourself slowly up the tree and make a single step before stumbling. “Dizzy. And like really out of it. Fuck.” you mumble to yourself. You want to curl up on the ground but his arm steadies you and you lean most of your weight into him. He starts walking again, basically carrying you. 

It had been a long time since anyone had actually touched you, plus getting hit by a sex quirk two times made you really notice his touch. His toned arms through his sweatshirt, holding you as you made your way back. You looked up into the corner of his neck. His jaw. His chapped but full lips. You fought the urge to kiss him.

Is this actually happening?

pt 2 here

m.list

[fluff-n-cookies]

Dabi simply adores you, his precious daughter. But he didn’t always love you.

Part 2

Warnings: attempted murder (failed), canon typical violence, robberies, alcohol+drugs, references to child neglect, implied pedophilia (nothing graphic, and not towards reader), teenage parenthood, minor swearing.

reader has blue eyes like Dabi's.

let me know if you spot anymore.

note: I swear, it's not that bad, just fluff with kinda angsty undertones, cuz' it's Dabi! what do you want

I mean, he was only a teenager when he had you, fresh to the villain business at the wonderful age of 16 and a half. He decided it’d be a wonderful time to drink his sorrows away one night, one horrid, awful night. He ended up fucking a woman he did not know, who was surely much older than he, in the back alley of a bar in the worse parts of town. Amidst the filth of the nearby dumpster, it was here that he would make the single worst decision of his life, either that, or the best. He really doesn’t know.

but alas, he ended up with a little swaddled baby 9 months later when the same woman angrily shoved you into his arms, declaring something unintelligible before storming out of the bar again. Dabi, who at the time was drunk and higher than a kite. didn't react. when you started crying, he didn't react. when you cried louder, thrashing around in his hold he still didn't react. he was in his own world at that moment, shutting out everything except the burn of the cheep beer going down his throat. it wasn't until he was kicked out of the bar along with you for being too disruptive and he fell asleep in one of the abandoned buildings nearby only to wake up hung over and disoriented did he realize what he had done; when he saw a quite malnourished baby laying down on his jacket that he chucked on the floor last night. your swaddle all dirty by now.

he did nothing but stare at you for a while, the pounding in his head as well as the harsh rays of the mid day sun didn't help much. He was still just a kid, a villain too, and homeless. he wasn't ready to have a child. for a split second he thought of leaving you there, God, you looked just like Fuyumi when she was a baby. but you looked worse, like you were barely living. had you... had you died during the night? he stumbled to your side of the room, trying his best to avoid the rumble of the deteriorating building. it would truly have been a miracle if you happened to survive in such conditions.

carefully, he flipped you onto your back, putting a warm hand on your chest. god. you were barely breathing. barely responding too. Dabi's breath hitched, had he nearly killed his own child? he stayed like there for a few moments. looking right at you. he really had no idea what to do. you're already on the verge of death, if you died right now, would it really matter? you've been on this earth for only a few days it seems, your mother left you with a villainous teenage father who could let you wither away in an abandoned building.

if you were to die right now. he could spare you the pain of having to live with him, you'd never have to know the horrors of life.

he could just light one flame,

let it fill the room with smoke,

and watch as your lungs give up

and you simply stop breathing.

...

you'd just be another person who never got to see their future.

Gently, he stroked your tiny chubby cheek with a warm finger.

he nearly laughed at the thought, killing his first child, just like his own father had done with him. he pulled you into his arms, preparing to hold a small flame right up to your face until your fragile little body couldn't take it anymore. then he'd leave your body here as he burns down the rest of the building. a fitting memorial. but before he could do anything,

he paused - you - you squirmed in his hold. cracking open your eyes to stare at him with soulless blue eyes that mirrored his own, tried and scared. an expression that surely should never be on the face of a child.

Dabi truly can't quite recall what happened in that moment when he held you in his arms. all he remembers is a clenching in his heart. maybe it was the alcohol and the drugs. but he felt the emptiness and the pain. the gut wrenching, soul crushing pain, the type that he felt whenever his father would ignore him, again and again. he pain he felt when he saw his childhood home again after so many years, only to find that nothing had changed; he was forever gone and no body gave a fuck.

but- you. just you. you were just like him. you wanted nothing more than a little bit of love. would it truly be so bad if he gave it to you? he'd keep you around, for a while at least.

that's what he told himself as he found himself stealing diapers and baby powder and formula and what not from a convenience store, only to fuck up making formula and changing a baby. he did a little victory dance with you in his arms when he finally figured it out.

but that's only after he managed to get some midwife or other doctor to do a lil' check up on you. (only to knock them out for the police to find their body hours later.) anxiously analyzing everything the doctor was doing, making mental notes to himself to have you try and eat better.

he tended to do more robberies and muggings these days, only to spend it all on a shabby little one bedroom condo in one of the cheaper (and by proxy, crime ridden) parts of the city. it was better than being a single parent living on the streets I guess.

he ended up turning the bedroom into your nursery, if you would call a room that could barely hold a twin sized bed, full of nothing but a crib, a small closet full of dirty clothes, and a big stack of baby products in one corner; a nursery. he instead slept on the couch most nights. but he would forever find himself running back into your room whenever you would cry, he almost always ended up letting you sleep on his chest on the couch. both arms slung over your tiny body so there would never be a chance you'd fall out of his grip.

but life got better with time it seems. he started taking bigger jobs, bank robberies, sometimes murders every now and then. he built a good reputation for himself. and you. you grew on him. who was once a fragile little thing, right to death's doorstep. now, when you smiled, he felt ever so full of life.

he liked how you would always wait by the door after he went out to run an "errand", always being right where he left you and babbling happily when he came back. making a little gesture to be picked up and carried.

he liked you you tend to boss him around most of the time. you could point to where you wanted to go and he would happily carry you there. he isn't even aware of what he's doing, you could yell at him (as best as a baby can anyways) and he'd meet your demands near instantly without much complaint. someone else would have to point it out for him to notice.

he especially liked how you would stare at him with wide eyes as he would smoke on the balcony with the glass door shut. every night, it was a routine, just after dinner, Dabi would snag a pack of cigarettes, and sit outside on the balcony to smoke, occasionally looking back inside through the glass to see what you were doing. he would put on a little cartoon or set out some toys for you. and while that'd keep you entertained for a while, you'd still drift towards him, looking back at him through the glass to try and get his attention. his smoke breaks kept getting shorter and shorter because of that.

he liked how every time he woke up, you would always be with him. looking up at him with those big blue eyes that he gave you. especially the way you'd always look at him with nothing but love and joy.

the same eyes that he used to look at his own father with disdain and fury.

he'll joke around that you're too clingy, always following him, attached to the hip, quite literally with how often he holds you on his hip. But deep down he knows he'd be torn apart if you were gone from him for even one hour. he can't live without your little hugs and giggles and stupid playtime's and everything. please, your love means the world to him.

but he was still only ever a boy, a boy who never quite got to grow up the way he was meant to. but you will forever be the reason he'd try and be a man. for his little girl. he remembers how he'd make more frequent trips to the grocery store, how he'd stock up on medicine for kids, how he'd buy cleaning supplies to somehow make the rinky dinky condo you both live in a tad bit more suitable for a child.

you're the reason he even joined the league. this world has already killed him, and while he was given a second chance as Dabi will it really ever be the same?

but you. you are so full of life, so perfect, awaiting a future unknown. he'll sculpt this world with the second chance he's been given. for your father, Touya, may be dead, but Dabi is not, and he is very much ready to give you what he never had, even if he dies again in the process.

but with the league comes responsibility, a time consuming responsibility. gone are the days when he'd lounge around at home all day and only leave to take you to the playground or grocery shopping, and the occasional robbery when he was low on cash. now he was busy! can you believe it? now Dabi may have skipped nearly all of high school but he wasn't that stupid enough to leave a child home alone for hours on end. hence, he came to the conclusion of daycare. the horrid, horrid daycare.

he nearly cried when he realized his little girl was growing up so fast, it seemed like just last week he was holding you on his hip as he heated up a bottle of formula in his hand to finally get you to shut up and sleep. that only a couple days ago you walked your first ever steps after he came home early with your favorite snacks. he wasn't even able to record it he was too busy sobbing as you held onto his legs to steady yourself waiting for him to pick you up. it literally felt like yesterday you said your first words, "baba" after he jokingly started calling you cry baby.

this actually led to quite a lot of problematic nicknames, cry baby became Babs and Babs became bun and bun became bunny and bunny---- (i'm losing it as I write this.)

but nonetheless, it hurts. so every morning he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to haul you out of bed and get you all pretty and dolled up for the day. he lets you choose your shirt and pants and bows and what not. tying up your little baby sized shoes to take you to the next district over. now, he would've enrolled you into a daycare much closer to home but he really wants you to be safe, and unfortunately anything and everything in your neighborhood without his supervision is not and never will be, considered safe. so he'd much rather escort you via public transport to the richer neighborhoods every single morning than have you be in danger of any kind. sure, you're a little out of place, with thrifted clothes and frizzled up hair from only ever using your dad's 4-in-1 shampoo. and he's definitely out place. hence why he never quite shows his face to the teachers. always ushering you into the daycare building before leaving as fast as he came. The teachers think that he's your older goth brother who's being forced to take you to school by his parents. is it exhausting? yes, very much so. will he do it on repeat for the rest of his life if that means ensuring your happiness and safety? most certainly yes.

---

PART 2 IS HERE

that'll be all. I might do a part 2. tried something different with my writing this time and hope it's better than the rest of my works.

my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box

send me an ask, I fucking love hearing from you guys.

edit, 4 hours after posting: I'm very disappointed that I still have no new asks. very disappointed in you all.

[arthurbristow]

Keep it close - Shigaraki x Reader

"Keep close," Shigaraki muttered, his crimson eyes scanning the bustling market around them. "I don't want to lose you in this crowd." His white hair fell messily over his face.

It was an unexpected outing, to say the least. The League of Villains rarely ventured out in daylight, especially to something as mundane as a game market. The two of you had left the hideout that afternoon, Shigaraki’s rare urge to indulge in some new video games coinciding with the League’s need for supplies. Dabi had been particularly insistent, his grumbling about running out of cigarettes becoming unbearable. So, with a list of groceries in hand, you accompanied Shigaraki to the market.

“Look at them, scrambling around for their mundane little pleasures,” he continued, hands twitching slightly as he spoke. “Pathetic.”

Navigating through the crowded streets, your eyes couldn’t help but notice the occasional glances and whispers directed your way. Shigaraki’s presence was hard to ignore, even if people didn’t recognize him. And you felt a wave of unease. The noise, the press of bodies, the constant motion—it was overwhelming. Your senses were on high alert, every fiber of your being screaming to find a point of stability. Shigaraki walked ahead, his posture tense but focused, clearly absorbed in his hunt for the perfect game.

The press of bodies around you intensified, and an accidental shove from an overenthusiastic passerby sent you stumbling. Without thinking, your hand shot out, grasping Shigaraki’s. The contact was immediate, grounding. Only a heartbeat later did you realize the full extent of your actions. His hand was bare — no protective gloves. A cold shiver ran down your spine. One wrong move, one slip of control, and you could be reduced to dust. Shigaraki’s Decay quirk was lethal, merciless. 

He stiffened, his head whipping around to look at you. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, but not entirely devoid of curiosity.

“I…” You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat. “I just… needed to hold on to something.”

His laugh was a harsh bark, but there was no malice in it. “You’re insane.” Tomura didn’t pull his hand away though, didn’t dissolve you into nothingness. Instead, his grip tightened slightly, with his pinky raised up in the air to protect you from being decayed on the spot.

The two of you moved through the market like that, hand in hand. It felt strangely intimate, a connection that defied the perilous nature of his quirk. The crowd seemed less daunting with him by your side, your anxiety ebbing away with each step.

Shigaraki led you to a stall filled with the latest games. His eyes lit up as he browsed through the titles, a rare smile playing on his lips. It was a side of him you didn’t see often, this almost childlike excitement. You couldn’t help but smile too, caught up in his rare moment of happiness.

“Found it,” he said, holding up a game with a triumphant look. “This is the one.”

“Great,” you replied, your voice steadying. “Now, let’s get those groceries before Dabi sets the hideout on fire.”

Shigaraki chuckled, “Yeah.”

As you moved to the grocery section, the crowd thickened again. Instinctively, you tightened your grip on his hand. This time, he didn’t question it, at all.

You quickly gathered the items on your list, your movements efficient despite the mass of people. Cigarettes for Dabi, snacks for Toga, and various other necessities for the rest of the League. 

Through it all, Shigaraki stayed by your side, keeping his head lowered, reading the information written on the box of his new game, your hand still in his.

Holding Shigaraki's hand was a paradox of sensations. His skin, surprisingly warm, radiated a heat that contrasted sharply with the chilling fear of his lethal touch. The rough texture of his calloused palm told stories of countless battles and hardships. Yet, beneath the coarse exterior, there was a vulnerability — a silent plea for connection. The knowledge that a single slip could mean your end made the experience electrifying, heightening every sense. It was like holding a live wire: dangerous, exhilarating, and oddly comforting all at once. In that grip, there was a fragile trust, a delicate balance between life and decay, and an unspoken promise that for now, in this moment, you were safe.

Eventually, you managed to complete your shopping list. Dabi's cigarettes, snacks and manga for Toga, and even a few items for yourself. Shigaraki, meanwhile, had amassed a small pile of new games, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

As you reached the entrance, you reluctantly let go of his hand. 

He glanced at you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You apparently liked holding my hand, hmm?" Tomura cooed, his tone softer than you’d ever heard.

"Yeah…" You replied, feeling a warmth spread through your chest and flush claiming your cheeks.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "Just don’t make a habit of grabbing my hand. Next time, I might not be so careful."

[suguwu]

this is messy but—

it’s been years since the flames dabi set in his father’s office turned on him. set their sparking teeth in his skin and refused to let go. it’s been years, but his scars never let him forget. 

he’s out of prison now, but for all his counselor talks a big game, he can’t find a job. so instead, when the noise is too much, he takes refuge at the little flower shop around the corner from his rehabilitation center. 

the mist in the air feels good on his scars and cools him off and the scent of earth is grounding. brings him back into his own skin. he lingers but never buys anything but you—the owner—never seems to chase him out.

you smile at him and bob your head in greeting before returning back to the bouquet you're making. it's like you trust him. maybe you do.

one day, he's running a finger over a leaf of a flower, one that blushes like the dawn, sweet, soft pink. he's afraid to touch a silken petal; thinks it will rot beneath his clumsy fingers, considering the way it ripples like a wave in the barest breeze.

"ranunculus."

he glances over his shoulder at you. "bless you."

you laugh.

"the flower," you explain. "it's called a ranunculus."

"oh."

"here," you say, picking one out of the bucket it's tucked into. the water sloshes; it gleams on the long, thick stem of the flower. "hold that for a second."

he blinks as you shove the flower into his hands. then you're plucking more flowers from nearby buckets, your hands moving like fluttering little birds. you gather more and more, until he can barely see you behind the greenery and the blooms. he recognizes some: proud, leggy irises; fluffy ball peonies, as white as driven snow; crimson tulips so dark they're almost black.

"c'mon," you say, heading towards your worktable. he follows, feeling a little ridiculous carrying a single bloom versus your meadow-like armful. you lay your wares out on the table and beckon him closer. he holds out the ranunculus. you flick off the end of the stem with your knife. he hovers, unsure.

"well?" you say. "are you gonna sit?"

he eyes you. you meet his gaze steadily, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips.

"feel bad for me?" he sneers. "that why you're being so nice?"

you hum.

"is putting you to work nice?" you ask, already on to the next flower. he watches the way you hold the knife, how it shines silver in the sunlight, how easily it slides through the thick stem. those hands of yours move with careful surety. he wonders if you do origami; he could see you creasing a thick piece of ornamental paper perfectly.

"i wouldn't call this work."

"no? then you shouldn't mind doing it."

he shoves his hands into his pockets. the misters turn on over the flower buckets; some of the spray settles against his skin, as if he's by the sea.

"fine," he says. "show me."

at the end of the day, you insist on paying him, despite the fact that he's cut a few of the stems too short—one of your bouquets is a little lopsided, but you have it displayed with all the others—and ruined a few blooms. there are petals stuck to his fingertips.

he goes home smelling of wet loam and your faint perfume. rei blinks her big doe eyes at his sudden appearance at the family dinner table, but she makes space for him all the same.

he goes back to your shop the next day. you smile at him, soft and pretty and a little bit sharp with knowing, and he ducks further into his hoodie so you can't see his scars.

"show me more," he tells you.

you tilt your head.

"alright," you say. "let's go."

and just like that, he has a job.

he makes it three weeks before he thinks about kissing you.

it's your hands, he thinks. they're careful and quick and fearless, despite getting pierced by thorns and clippers alike. you touch everything with a certain type of care.

including him.

he never had a chance against you. he thinks about your hands, about your lips, about the way you're so careful with him. not like he's breakable. he'd have left if you touched him like that.

no, you touch him the same way you touch your flowers: like he means something.

it's too much.

he stops going to your shop.

but he watches you, sometimes. you move like a dream, floating between the aisles, petals caught on your fingertips. you laugh with your customers; you chat with them as you roll their bouquets up tight in paper, tied off with a perfect bow. you smile at a man, as bright as the sun, and his hands tighten into fists. it pulls the scars tight enough to hurt, but he doesn't care.

he barges into the shop, shouldering the man aside as he tries to exit. ignores the disgruntled call from behind him. by the time he makes it to the register, you're watching him coolly.

he realizes he doesn't know what to say.

you reach out. he lets you slide that careful hand into the hood of his hoodie; lets you cup his cheek. your eyes don't widen at the rough texture of his scars against your skin. you simply smile at him.

"welcome back," you say, and he realizes he doesn't need to say anything at all.

[theoriginalkaminari]

Imagine (before Dabi's big reveal maybe)

Imagine bro

Dabi had a beautiful partner, a beautiful S/O that was his, all his.

They made him feel alive.

They genuinely cared for him.

And then they were killed by Endeavour.

Dabi stares at your burning body, heart breaking every second he sees you like this. He watches as the blue flame flakes off your skin, the smell of charred and rotten skin filling the air.

Dabi found your body in an alley.

Endeavour didn't even take your body to your family. He just left you on the cold ground.

Of course he wouldn't, he fucking killed you. That would ruin his reputation if he brought your dead body to your family.

So Dabi decided to lay you down in the forest and burn your body. After all, he was always curious to see how you would look going up in flames.

"I think we should say some words." Dabi says to no one, spreading his arms out.

"Here lays Y/N. Beloved by all they met. The angel in hell." He growls out, clenching his fists as he continues to stare at the fire consuming your body.

He lets out a laugh, but its more of a scoff. "Thanks for loving a useless fuckin' idiot." He hisses out, venom in his voice as he watches the flames.

He picks up the bottle of whiskey he brought with him, flicking off the cap and taking a large sip from the bottle.

He lets out a breath after he removes the bottle from his lips. He feels like crying. He feels like tearing his fucking hair out, he feels like jumping into that pile of flames with you.

Instead he gulps, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "I told you you would still look cute even as a pile of ashes." He calls out to your body, extending his arms out again as if to present something.

"I know I said I'd take your ashes to your family, but we both know I'm a selfish prick. So I'll be keeping them." He chuckles darkly, taking another gulp of whiskey from the bottle.

"I still...love you." He then whispers, putting the bottle down. "Even if you are dead now." Dabi mutters, a fake smirk plastered on his face.

"And I'll make sure to kill Endeavour the same way he killed you. Maybe that will jog his fuckin' memory when I'm staring down at his pathetic burnt body." He growls out, clenching his fists so hard around the bottle that he breaks the glass.

Dabi tosses the shards of broken glass into the fire and ontop of your body. "Love you, doll. Always will."

From that day on, Dabi kept your ashes in a small bottle he keeps tied around his neck.

[b3ach-bunn7]

FORWARDS BECKON REBOUND

You find Dabi bleeding out on your front porch. Despite recognising his face from the five o'clock news, you take him in.

angst, villain dabi, quirkless reader, Dabi POV

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

He should’ve killed you the minute he’d woken up. 

Left your house burning blue with you inside of it, before you even had a chance to run. But it had been Dabi who’d passed out outside your house, and it had been you who lugged him inside, lanky bones and all, so he felt some obligation not to do it. He was barely conscious, just awake enough to hear you mumbling curses under your breath as you scrounged through your cupboards for a first aid kit. 

It wasn’t a nice way to go, bleeding out on a random street. It was embarrassing, the famed cremation villain dying to a knife wound that hit a little too deep. He’d killed the man who’d stabbed him, of course, but that fact that he would kill Dabi was what had him praying to a God he didn’t believe in that he’d live. Maybe it was a fitting death. A person like him, bleeding out with the dirt of a flower bed slipping down his shirt, only the sounds of the night echoing in his ears. 

And then you appeared.

Wearing scrubs that fit too loosely over your body, a puffer jacket and a scarf covering the lower half of your face. He had enough energy to wonder why someone like you, someone that looked down at him with so much worry etched on your face, was in a neighbourhood like this, one where people like him lurked. You dropped your bags, abandoned the scarf and the coat and dropped to your knees. He’d watched your scrubs soak with blood as your hands hesitated in front of him.

“God. Fuck. What do I- Fuck.”  You grabbed your scarf and wrapped it tightly around his chest and then you slipped your arms under his, groaning at his dead weight. 

“This is my good deed for the day.” You huffed, starting the slow drag towards your home.

And he’d passed out after that, he thinks. Everything is very jumbled up but he supposed that’s what happens when you’re bleeding to death.

And when he woke up he thought he might be in heaven. A heaven that was very cluttered and full of way too many pictures hung up on the walls. His head was killing him, and his chest fucking hurt.  He was sprawled on a couch too small for him and his legs were touching the floor. He tries to rise and he stops, immediately, cursing at the shot of pain that spreads through his body.

“Oh no, don’t get up! The stitches will pull.” 

He turned his head to the source of the voice and it's you.

On your knees, scrubbing at the blood stains on your floor. The sleeves of your hoodie were pulled up past your forearms and you were wearing shorts that rode up your thighs. He would’ve made an inappropriate comment about the sight of your legs but he has no idea who the fuck you are.

“I- I’m a nurse so don’t worry, the stitches are done right. That’s for you, too. You should drink it, you lost a lot of blood.” You laughed nervously, pointing at the coffee table.

There was a juice box waiting for him. He didn’t grab it though. Just kept staring at you, silent.

“Uh. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You hand twitched like you’re about to offer it to him, but you decided against it.

There’s no way you don’t know who he is. Dabi’s face has been plastered on the news more times than he can remember, and his face isn’t one you can forget. He watches you now, your eyes flitting from his face to his chest. You sit back on your knees, rubbing at your face with your clean hand.

“I- I can make you some food. If you think you can stomach it.” 

What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know what he could do to you? How quickly he could kill you?

He moved to stand again and you got up that time, moving towards him. “Look, seriously, you can’t move. The stitches will open and I can’t deal with any more blood today.” You said.

Dabi cursed. You flinch at the deep gravel of his voice.

“I know you probably think I’m crazy. I just- You can stay, until you can move again. It’s fine. I just don’t want you dying in my house, please. Or on my driveway.” You breathed out, taking another step back.

Dabi looked at you again. You looked like he could take you out now, stitches and all. He’s sure if you were going to call the police, you’d have done it by now. And he can’t remember the last time somebody actually doted on him. So he made the incredibly stupid move of listening to you. 

He reached forward and snatched up the juice. He popped it open with his thumb, downing it in one go, squeezing the carton to get it all out. Dabi threw the empty carton on the floor when he was finished. He leant his head back on the couch, and drifted off quickly into sleep.

The first few days are spent in and out of consciousness. The times he is awake, he doesn’t speak to you, not unless he has to. When you ask him what size clothes he wears, when you ask if he has any allergies. It doesn’t stop you from talking though. It’s all you do, whether to a friend on the phone or just to yourself. 

The couch has become the place he spends most of the days. He doesn't move unless it’s for the toilet or to let you change his bandages. The one time he’d actually gotten up for longer than five minutes was so you could clean the couch, silently mourning the fact you’d have to get a new one once he was gone. His blood still stains your carpet though, faint but there, and he feels something he can’t describe at the fact a part of him will always exist between your walls.

The first time he does speak to you, he doesn’t even mean to.

“God, the lady at the pharmacy definitely thinks I’m a serial killer. I'm there for bandages and painkillers like, four times a week.” 

You sigh and drop the shopping bags on the floor. You’re in your scrubs again, blue this time, as opposed to the green ones he’d stained with his blood. You run to the kitchen to grab a wet cloth and the antiseptic, and Dabi sits up gingerly on the couch.

He isn’t exactly healed, but you’d assured him once he could be conscious for longer than an hour that the cut wasn’t as deep as it seemed. It still hurt like a bitch, though, and his stitches still stung as he pushed himself up. YYou kneel in front of him, carefully unwrapping the bandages around his chest. You keep your distance, just close enough so that you can reach him. The bandages stick to his skin and you make quick work of cleaning it, dabbing it with antiseptic. 

Dabi notices that you won’t ever look him in the eyes. Always darting around his face but never at him. You always linger on the scarred skin around his body, the staples hastily holding them together. You’re looking at them now, absentmindedly as you search through the bags for the bandages.

“My skin gross you out, lady?”

Your eyes do look up at him then, and Dabi feels like he should definitely talk to you more if you’re going to look at him like that. You laugh nervously and he tilts his head, blue eyes boring into yours.

“No, I just. Ha, no, I just haven't seen anything like it. The staples-” 

Your hand touches one gingerly and before you can move it away he grabs it with his own. He lets his hand heat up, not enough to hurt you but enough to let that lick of fear inch up your face, and he grins. Your hand is soft against the calloused, scarred skin of his, and he rubs his thumb up and down the back of it, watching the shiver you try and hide from him.

“Did I say you could touch?” He raises his eyebrows and you snatch your hand back. You turn away, inching just that little bit away from him.

“You didn’t complain about my touching when I dragged you from off my front porch.” You mumble under your breath.

His grin widens at that. “You got a mouth on you. But it’s okay, you can touch me anywhere you want, baby.”

Oh, that look. You were cute, he’d admit. He loved those shorts you were always wearing. Made your ass look amazing.

Your cheeks turn a delicious red. “I- Shut up. Let me finish.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you finish.”

“My god. Are you twelve?” You huff, placing the dressing over the stitches.

Dabi just watches you. He enjoys the way you squirm under his gaze. “You’re brave, sweetheart. You know who you’re talking to?”

You don't respond for a few seconds. “Of course. I’m not stupid.”

“Really? I’d say housing a villain in your house is pretty stupid.”

You say nothing, just gesture for him to sit up from the couch, where he was leaning against it. Like this, him sitting up and you still kneeling in front of the couch, he towers over you. It’s a compromising position, you fit in between his spread legs. Dabi can imagine you like this in another situation, maybe without the bandages and without that shirt you’ve got on.

You wrap the bandages around his chest silently. You finish, pinning it down so it doesn't come loose. You look back up at him. “It’s nearly been two weeks. If you wanted to kill me you would’ve.”

“Maybe I’m waiting until I’m all healed up. Really take my time with you.” He lets his voice drop, a low drawl.

You swallow. “I hope not. Would be a waste of my time if you did.”

Dabi scoffs. Your eyes trail back to his staples. He tugs at one and you wince. “Does- Does it not hurt?”

“Nah. Lost feeling a while ago. These staples are the least of my worries.” 

After that little encounter, Dabi takes to annoying you anytime he can. You’re avoiding him, he can tell, and it’s pissing him off. You spend every day holed up in your room while he has to sit on the couch like a fucking idiot and just wait. Maybe for you to call the cops on him, maybe for him to commit some heinous crime because he’s so fucking bored.

It’s why he starts trying to piss you off. Purposefully loosening his bandages, whining about the pain. You don’t complain, just dutifully bring him water, bring him whatever stupid request he asks of you. You’re being too kind, and he knows it’s fake. He wants to see how long it takes until you break, until that pretty polite smile you throw at him turns into that delicious anger from before. He wants your real emotions. Not this fake shit that makes him want to set the couch on fire.

Maybe it’s fake, or maybe Dabi can’t accept anything from anyone, not without them expecting something in return. And until he figures out what that is he doesn’t give a shit what you think of him.

It comes quicker than he thought. Only three days later, after he spent the entirety of your work phone call turning the TV higher and higher, until the show he was paying no mind was so loud you had to walk out the room. You’d come back out twenty minutes later and there it was, that frown he was missing.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap, snatching the remote off the coffee table to turn the TV off. Dabi just watches you, a small amused smile on his face.

You shake your head. “Don’t just fucking sit there. You’ve been trying to piss me off for the past few days and here, I’m giving it to you. Happy?” You yell.

You rub your eyes furiously. “I just- I don’t get it. I’m- I’m helping you, I kept you from dying. Why are you being suc-“

“Why?”  

His voice is enough to silence you completely and he likes what little control he has over you. 

“Why what?”

“Why the fuck are you helping me? I don’t understand you.” He says, watching you pace across the living room.

“Some fucking nobody in the middle of a shitty town in an even shittier apartment housing me. Why? Makes no sense to me, and I don’t like things that don’t make sense.”  

You stop. You flalter slightly. He catches it, the way your hands twist in the hem of your shirt.

“What, you expected me to let you die?” 

“Yeah. I do it a lot.”

“Yeah, well not everyone is a sick sadistic psycho like you are.” You snarl.

You seem to regret the words the second they leave your mouth. Dabi grins and you cross your arms and look away.

“Aw, don’t get all shy on me. I love that bratty mouth of yours.” You grimace at his words.

“Shut up.” You in breathe once. Purposeful and unsteady.

“I don’t know- Well I do know what you’re like. I guess all of Japan does. But I wasn’t going to let you just die on me like that. I don’t give a fuck who you are. Nobody deserves that.” You speak purposefully, trying hard to hide your emotion.

“And what are you expecting back?”

You look at him, then. And he sees something shift in your expression and you scoff.

“I don’t want anything back. I just did a good thing. I know that might be a foreign concept to you, but to us normal people it isn’t.”  

So bratty. He’d shut you up if he could move without popping a stitch. 

“Just.” You rub your eyes again. “Just stop trying to piss me off all the time. It’s working and it’s so fucking annoying.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to listen to you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact you’ve been living in my house for two week?”

“I don’t fucking understand you.”

“I don’t understand you. I mean, how much time and money have I spent on you? It took me ages to get all the blood out my carpet and my toilet. And you still fucked up my couch, even though I covered it up. You think I can afford a new couch? One not covered in blood? I just-“

You pause. Take another deep breath.

“I don’t really know why I’m doing this either. I feel weirdly obligated to. As a nurse, and all. And- I don’t want the hassle, and the attention that would’ve been brought at my door if i had called the ambulance. And I’m sure you wouldn’t have either. So just do me a favour and stop making it so difficult.” 

He stares at you. The slump of your shoulders and he thinks the emotion he’s feeling is pity, or something similar. He doesn’t really know and he doesn’t really care.

But he still wants the healing, and he wants that really good ramen you made the other day. So he shrugs.

“Whatever.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Fucking hell.”  You mumble, stalking off into the kitchen.

Things change after that. You slowly start to spend more time with Dabi. Which might be an overstatement. You sit on the loveseat beside him. Usually reading or catching up with work or throwing too much commentary at a show he’s watching. You catch him staring at your book once and you hold up the cover to him. The title reads, ‘The truth behind the Commission’.

“Quite the problematic read.” He nods and you smile slightly.

“I guess. I like this author. He doesn’t bullshit.”

“You hate heroes, then?”

You shake your head quickly. “‘No. Well. I don’t hate them, I just. There’s a lot of things wrong with hero society. A lot. And I think a lot of heroes get away with shit they shouldn’t because of that title. I don’t know. It’s all fucked, and I’m not gonna sit here praising them just because they do good things. Doesn’t make them good people.” 

He doesn’t reply that quickly and you look sheepish. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

He makes a noise. “Nah, I loved your little anti-hero rant. The league could use a girl like you.”

Your face pales and he barks out a laugh. “Don’t say that!”

After that you start leaving books on the coffee table for him. He doesn’t thank you for it. 

The second time Dabi decides he’ll trust you happens quickly. There’s a box of pizza in front of the two of you, and you’re both not paying much attention to the TV. He’s more looking at you, the way you twirl a strand of hair around and around your finger, bite at your top lip when you’re thinking. Then your face frowns.

“Ew. Pass me the remote.” You hold your hand out to him.

He looks at the TV, and there’s daddy dearest. It’s a documentary, he thinks. Some stupid shit that praises the worst man in the world because he’s a ‘good hero’. He’s got his reason to hate him. But the look of disgust on your face is more delightful than it is confusing. 

“What? Not a fan of our number two hero?” The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth but the look on your face washes it away.

“Fuck no. There’s something about him I don’t trust. I don’t fucking like that guy.” You frown, quickly changing the channel. “I miss All Might.” 

He doesn’t reply to that. He doesn’t know what he’d say if he did.

And then Dabi realises he actually likes being around you. Especially when you’re always staring at him when you think he doesn’t notice.

“You know, I bought you shirts, too.” You speak the words quickly and without making direct eye contact.

Dabi had taken to not wearing any, despite the fact you had bought him some. He only wore  different sweats you’d bought him, slung low on his hips. He always ran hot anyway, and you never complained until now.

He grins. “Aw, this ain’t a pretty sight for you?”

“No, of course not!” 

You face flushes and Dabi leans a little further down on the couch, letting his sweats drift a little lower. Dabi knows he’s fit, and he knows the distinct shape of his V line is what’s making you avoid his form on the couch entirely. He’s not stupid, he’s caught you looking before.

“Right, I didn't mean that. I was just wondering. You know?” 

“Right, right. Don’t worry, baby, I wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. Be a doll and pass me that shirt, yeah?”

You nod. So obedient, he thinks. He grabs the shirt from your hand, letting his fingers drift against yours. You hand twitches slightly and Dabi smiles, sickly sweet.

“Thanks.” 

“S’fine.” 

When you give Dabi the green light to get up and move, he waits for you to go to work so he can thoroughly snoop around your house. He walks his way around the living room that he's grown too accustomed to. He doesn’t care about the kitchen or the toilet he’s been to a million times. Where he really wants to explore is your bedroom.

You’re so stupid. Letting a villain like him in your house. His hand trails over your dresser, the souvenirs and trinkets from holidays and birthdays. There’s even more pictures in here and you’re so loved he can feel it through the paper. You’re always smiling, teeth shining and impossibly bright and for a split second he wonders what you’d look like smiling at him like that.

Your room is quite messy and it doesn’t surprise him. Clothes littered all over the floor, books and a makeup bag scattered over your desk. Your bed is hastily made and your sheets are a soft pink. And he can see you on it begging for him so prettily, so obedient like you always are for him. 

He opens your bedside tables drawers, searches through the junk for something. He doesn’t even know what. There’s old movie stubs and receipts held together with a bobby pin. A postcard from someone called ‘Becky’ in Italy. Some empty lip gloss tubes and a candle burned down to the bottom. Then he sees a small rock. Hidden beneath the postcard and a letter telling you to go to the opticians. Shiny and blue just like his eyes, his flames. He turns it in his hand for a second, the smooth surface cool on his skin, before pocketing it swiftly. 

You don’t notice when you get home. If you do, you don’t say anything. 

You only get bolder in your approach with him after that. You start sitting on the couch with him. You ask him stupid small talk questions. What’s his favourite colour, his favourite food. And if you see how incredibly weird the whole situation is you don’t comment on it, so neither does he. Dabi feels more like a roommate than a patient now. You both don’t bring up the fact he’s healed enough to leave. You tell him he needs a few more days and he lets you lie.

“It’s nice having someone else in the house.” You say one day.

The two of you were on the couch, just that bit closer than the time before. Dabi’s arm rests on the back of the couch, and if he moved just a little to the left he’d be touching you. 

“What?” 

You shrug. “I get lonely, you know? All my friends live miles away, and the same with my family. I don’t know anyone around here.” 

You turn to him then, and shoot him a small smile. 

“It’s nice having company. Makes my house feel lived in.”

“Even if it’s a big old villain?”

You roll your eyes. “Haven’t been very villainous though, have you?”

“It’s never too late, baby.”

It’s the beginning of the end when he starts to do stuff for you.

It’s nothing crazy at first. He sees dishes in the sink so he puts them in the dishwasher. There’s a load of washing in the washer so he puts it in the dryer. He's just bored. He hasn’t left this house in weeks now, and while he likes the stress-free environment, he’s starting to feel antsy. 

And then he saw your face once, looking at the empty washer like he’d given you a diamond ring. And it felt good that he put it there. And Dabi decided it couldn’t hurt to pull his weight a little more around the house. If you’d look at him like that again he’d do anything you asked for.

You come home at three in the morning one night. Stupidly, he thinks. The area you live in is not a safe one, but it’s hardly his problem if you get kidnapped on your way back. When you walk through the door, the lights are all low and you stumble, mumbling curses under your breath. You turn them on and Dabi thinks you look perfect. Cheeks red from the cold, the dress you’re wearing slowly slipping up your thighs. The top is cut enough to make your tits look great, and you brush a strand of your hair out your face as you bend down to take your shoes off. He shouldn’t look, but really it’s all your fault for inviting a villain into your house. What did you expect?

You look up and your face lights up when you see him.

“Dabi! Oh my gosh, hey! I did- I thought you’d be sleeping.” You say the last word in a whisper.

And if that wasn’t tell enough that you were drunk, the way you almost fall walking to the kitchen is. You grab a water from the fridge, and Dabi watches as you down the whole thing in one go, drops of it dripping down your chin and your neck. You breathe heavily, chest heaving up and down as slump against the counter.

“God, I'm so thirsty. The drinks, I mean we had drinks. Of course! Mimosas and like, they were all pink and glittery. Can you tell I’ve been drinking?”

“Oh, not at all.” 

You grin. “Okay! Good! And then, this guy kept buying me drinks. So many drinks. The pink ones again. And I drank them. They were good, though.” 

You walk over to the couch and plop yourself next to him. Your bare thigh presses into his and Dabi lets it. He’s more focused on this little friend of yours buying you so many drinks than anything else.

“What guy?”

“Dunno. Some freak. I think- He was hitting on me. That's what my friend said to me.”

Dabi nods. “Mhm. You didn’t like him?”

You grimace, shaking your head.  “Ew, no way. He’s- He was so blond. And like, preppy. It was gross. He was gross.”

Dabi snorts a laugh. You grin at the sight of it. “Blond and preppy not your type?”

“No. No. I like.” You turn to face him. You cross your legs on the couch, tugging your dress down as it hikes up. You look at him quizzically before nodding your head, like you’ve figured something out.

“Actually, you are my type.” 

Dabi thinks he needs to get you drunk more. He likes the way you’re looking at him.

“Really?”

“Oh for sure. I like- You know like, emos.”

Never fucking mind. 

“I’m not emo, what the fuck?”

You laugh, loud and boisterous. “You so are! The black hair and, and the staples are like piercings. I bet you listen to heavy metal. Do you?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

You giggle, leaning over to rest your head on the couch. Your eyes travel down to his torso, exposed in the vest he was wearing. You reach a hand up, tracing it down the lines of his muscles, over the scarred skin. 

“Love your arms. So big. Can’t even wrap my hand around them.” You mumble. You demonstrate, taking a deep breath when your finger can't meet at the other side. 

“And. I like your voice. So raspy. It’s hot as fuck. And your eyes. So blue. Like the ocean. Like hat billie eilish song.”

He huffs a laugh. You look up at him, eyes shining from the light of the TV. You smile softly, hand still burning a hole on his arm. 

“Thanks if- for not killing me. And going all villain on me.”

Dabi hums. Sees your eyes trail down to his lips and back up to his face. 

“Never say never.”

“Shut up. Don’t say that. You’d never kill me. I’m too loveable.” 

“Too fucking full of yourself.”

“Wish I was full of you.” 

Your hands cover your mouth the second you say the words and you sit up suddenly. Dabi barks a laugh, and you whine, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so drunk. Oh my god.” You groan.

“Don’t worry, baby. We can make your dreams come true.” He smirks.

“Stop. Now. Before I die of embarrassment.” 

Dabi pats your shoulder. “S’fine, baby.” 

You slump a little, yawning loudly. You glance down at his hand that still hasn’t left your shoulder. “You're so warm.”

“It’s almost as if I have a quirk that produces fire.”

You roll your eyes. You turn slightly and lean against Dabi. He stiffens slightly as you adjust yourself, pulling one of your throw blankets down over your body. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“Go sleep in your bed, you idiot.”

“No. Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“The fuck?” 

You don’t say anything. Dabi looks down and your eyes are shut. He can feel your bare skin on his body. It’s so cool in comparison to his. That’s why he lets you stay there. He’s warming you up and you’re cooling him down. And you just stay there, sleep soundly like he isn’t a murderer, like he isn’t worth the same as the dirt on your shoes.

The next morning you don’t speak of it. Just rush yourself to the bathroom because, like an idiot, you went out on a Wednesday night like you didn’t have work the next day. 

Dabi realises he needs to leave when you almost kiss him.

You’re not drunk this time. He wishes you were. Wishes he could blame it on the alcohol coursing through your veins and not something else. This time, you aren’t both sitting on the couch like you usually are. You both stand at the big window in your living room, Dabi smoking a cigarette and you looking at the stars. It’s late, but it’s a weekend, so you don’t have anywhere to be. You’ve been talking and he’s been listening. The occasional response. He’s more focused on you, on the way the moonlight streaks across your face, the way you’re wearing one of the shirts you bought him. It dips down past your waist and he feels like you're his.

“Oh my god! You’ll never guess who came into work yesterday.” You turn to him excitedly.

“Who?”

“Remember I was telling you about that guy who kept buying me drinks?”

Dabi nods. “The blond one who’s not your type?”

You nod frantically. “Yes. He came in because he had to get tested for an STD! Can you believe that?”

Dabi scoffs. “Yes. Any guy buying pretty girls drinks is a guy that sleeps around.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” You coo.

“Gorgeous.” It’s meant to be sarcastic, but it comes out much more real than he’d hoped.

“Well, it’s no matter. I wouldn’t have gotten with him, drinks or not. I'm safe from any STD’s.”

Dabi takes another drag of his cigarette. “So harsh. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, I thought.”

“Not when it comes to a hookup. And not when there’s literally some-“ You cut yourself off. 

“When there’s what?”

“Nothing. Shut up.” 

Dabi rolls his eyes. He turns so he’s facing out the window completely, resting his elbows on the windowsill. He presses the cigarette into the wall beneath it. 

“Well, desperate times, baby. You wouldn’t believe some of the girls I’ve hooked up with.”

“I find it hard to believe you struggle to hook up with people.” 

Dabi barks a laugh at that. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. “You're hot. Isn’t that all guys need to hookup?”

“The whole ‘wanted villain’ thing scares people off. Usually.” He gives you a pointed look. “That, and the scars.”

You look at him and gesture at him to face you. You’re looking at him so intensely he feels nervous. Dabi, a serial killer with more kills under his belt than you can imagine, is nervous because of a silly little civilian.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“What’s right with them? They’re ugly, and they’re being held onto my face with fucking staples. Freaks people out.” He shrugs.

You furrow your brows. You look at his face, his arms, his chest. Where yes, he isn’t wearing a shirt again. The scar across it from a knife wound that feels years away.

“Shut up. Do you actually think that?”

Dabi tilts his head. “You don’t?”

“Of fucking course I don’t. They- You’re hot as fuck! I don’t understand why your scars would change that?” You splutter. And you look angry for him and Dabi feels his chest tighten.

“It’s alright, baby. I don’t care. My dick still gets wet when I need it to.” 

You wince. “Ew, Dabi. That’s gross.” 

“You’re gross for having a crush on a villain.”

You blush. “Shut up. I don’t have a crush on you.”

“Sure, sure.” 

Dabi can hear the sound of cars a few streets down. The breeze is light, and he can feel it rustling with his hair. He wonders if you notice the white of his roots peeking through. If you look enough to notice. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he feels your hand on his arm. Trailing up and around the divide of skin and scars. Your fingers trace over the staples. You touch him so gently. So softly. He wants to rip your hands off and lean into them all at once.

“Did I say you could touch?” He speaks quietly. You smile slightly, looking up at him for a second.

“I don’t hear any complaints.” 

You brush against the panes of his chest. Dance across the scar that will only ever remind him of you. Dabi thinks he leans into you. He wonders if you notice. You move up the sharp lines of his collarbone, the curve of his Adam’s Apple. And then your hands rest on his face. And they’re softer than his will ever be, free of the marks of his childhood and his days burning to quieten the noise in his head. Your hand curves against his cheek and he wonders if you can feel his heart beating as heavily as it is. 

Your fingers brush under his eyes. The small patch of purple skin that rounds them, like ever present eye bags. 

“Your eyelashes are so pretty. So long. I’m jealous.” You murmur.

Dabi doesn’t reply. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. 

And then you look at his lips again. Then back up at his eyes. And you look at him with so much emotion that he wants to gouge his own eyes out so he never has to think about it again. Never has to see you looking at him so tenderly. And when you lean forward, just that bit more, hand still on his face, he takes a breath. 

And then your phone rings, and the moment is shattered. You curse under your breath, fumbling around for your phone. You smile sheepishly as you brandish it at him.

“I’m sorry. It’s my mum. Give me a second.”

The two of you don’t meet at the window again. Dabi falls asleep to the sound of your voice in the next room.

He wishes you were horrible. Wishes you were annoying, or ugly, or maybe Endeavour’s number one fan. Instead you’re not. You’re funny and you’re a good cook. You’re fucking stupid for letting him into your life. You’re so kind. You start bookmarking the parts you think he’d like in the books you leave him and he wants to turn the pages to kindling. You talk to him like you actually give a shit what he has to say. Like you give a shit about him.

Dabi wants to leave a mark on you like you’ve left one on him. Because he’s seen the pictures hung around your house and you’re loved. You have your people, you have a place. You don’t need him. But Dabi? He hadn’t been to the league in however many weeks, and he hadn’t heard a peep. Nobody cares about him. Nobody has his picture up in their room. Dabi could’ve bled out in your driveway all that time ago and nobody would give two shits. 

He wants someone to give two shits about him. He wants you to give two shits about him. And it’s a thought that keeps Dabi up every night. Legs still impossibly too long for the couch, as all he can think about is how you’ve ruined him. You’re too fucking good for him. And he knows you’ll soon realise that. 

That’s why he leaves.

Dabi doesn’t know what you expected. That he’d stay? That you’d live together like this forever? He’s fucking realistic. He knows this goes nowhere. There’s a blue collar prick working in some construction site you’ll end up with one day. A man who you can introduce to your parents, one who won’t stain your carpets with his blood, who you can hang up on your walls.

Dabi takes nothing except for the clothes on his back. He waits until he knows you're asleep on those ugly pink sheets and he slips out silently. And he doesn’t look back as he walks away, as the sounds of life hit him properly for the first time in forever. He doesn’t look down at the front porch where he’d almost died, not at the flowers he’d destroyed when he’d collapsed on top of them.

He leaves before he can destroy everything else. Before he destroys you. You and your soft hands and your piercing gaze. He hates you. He hates you so fucking much he feels flames licking at his clothes at just the thought of you.

When he makes his way back to the league, nobody says much of anything. He stalks his way back to his own room. There’s no pictures hung up on the walls. It’s unbearingly small and it feels so lifeless. He lays down on a bed that fits him perfectly. Digs in his pockets for your stupid fucking rock, the same colour as his eyes, that you had hidden in that drawer. 

Dabi throws it across the room. He watches it hit the wall, skid under his dresser. He leaves it there.

——————————————————————-

yo ah really thought u could fix him 🤣🤣 I’ve been too nice to u guys recently so I had to mix in some angst 🙏 this is much longer than usual so I hope u like!

btw recently every title of the fic is based on the song I listen to while I write it so I highly recommend listening to it while u read these :P

I have been posting an INSANE. Amount. Like I think I posted once a day all last week and it’s all been about Dabi 😭😭 I’m very busy this week, so I fear my streak might be lost

lemme know if u want a pt 2!

[malereadermaniac]

Totally non-toxic behaviour ~ Ex!Dabi x Male Reader

Reader who's just a smidge toxic towards his ex - but it's like fine! m!reader (no genitalia mentioned) / FDNI Word count: 884

Dabi asking for his hoodies that he'd left with you back, only for you to try every trick in the book to make him think about you~

For one of the jaded man's sweatshirts, you decided to sleep in it for a week and spray your signature perfume on it. The second Dabi grabbed the black top from you, he took it to his nose and immediately gave you a chilling stare; he didn't voice any complaints though, just gave a brief 'thanks' and left. What you don't know is that the scarred man huffed on that thing all the way back to his place, and didn't wash it for literal weeks; he would just smell it whenever he felt that empty feeling in his chest which you used to fill for him.

When Dabi texted you about another hoodie of his, he did mention that "You coulda washed it before giving it back" - guessing that your smell made him miss you a bit too hard... So that time, of course you had the decency to wash the damn thing..... it was just that you'd accidentally spilt some of your body wash in with your fabric softener; so not only did your ex's hoodie smell like your clothes, but also you.

Another time, you decided to try make the cold man jealous by handing him the wrong clothing and saying "oops... not yours?". That one really set him off. In the moment, Dabi laughed it off and went and found the pair of sweats he was actually looking for, but GOD DAMN did this man go crazy on his way home. We're talking talking to himself in the car, extreme road rage for absolutely no real reason, and conducting a deep social media stalk on you to try n find out who's fucking sweats you tried to give him!

Your break-up wasn't exactly civil, but you and Dabi both agreed that you needed to end things or you two would just keep being bad for each other. Don't get it twisted, when it was good, it was incredible - you and Dabi were seemed like the perfect boyfriends, just simply in love. The taller man would always pamper you and was like a puppy around you (with an attitude but he'd listen to you nonetheless). Dabi was happier than ever when he was around you, you filled that hole in his chest, you were the missing piece to him. It's just that Dabi would get insanely possessive over you because you meant so incredibly much towards him - and we're talking not being allowed to go out with friends without him, literally getting into fights with other guys who were close with you and much, much more. And you yourself weren't innocent either! You would flirt with people to get attention from Dabi if he had been more frigid that day, and you were partial to a little guilt tripping if it meant getting what you wanted... But breaking up because of the bad definitely didn't negate the good - so you two are stuck being apart, whilst still being fucking in love with each other!

Dabi still having notifications on for whenever you post a story, because he was so down bad for you that he wanted to always be the first to see you stories (and sometimes approve them....). But his already cold blood runs colder when he sees that you've posted a selfie with some muscular, tatted arm around your shoulders as you lay your head on whoever this guy is. Dabi must've rewatched that single story of your at least fifty times, just staring, internally screaming, trying to figure out whose FUCKING ARM THAT IS. And of course, it's just you trying to make the man jealous (and it working). Good thing your friend from childhood was visiting, cause he made the perfect fake soft-launch!

Light stalking is another one of your tactics when trying to occupy Dabi's thoughts (and succeeding). It's never anything crazy! Just showing up at parties he's at and making sure that he notices you - which is usually done by openly flirting with guys at said party. Sometimes, if you're bold (and drunk) enough, you will just straight up flirt with Dabi's friends - never if he's with them in that moment, but always when he will notice. And it works like a CHARM! It does help that all of Dabi's friends find you hot as fuck, they're willing to risk getting their heads burnt off if it means getting to hit it from the back yk! They always start off with a coy "Dabi wouldn't be very happy to see me talkin' 'ta you" but they never mean it. And holy shit is it a sight from horny heaven to see Dabi walk over to you once he notices you antics; his taller, muscular frame looming over you and whoever your flirting with, his arms folded to show off his muscles even more, his eyes narrow and burning a hole into your own. Whenever you push enough of his buttons, Dabi will almost always fold, and he's not proud of it! The man just can't help it, he knows it's bad but he just loves waking up in your bed the next morning~

[peachsukii]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 | 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 『 band au | strangers to lovers 』 ♡ artist!reader x drummer!bakugo

summary // In the middle of the night, six months apart, the stars align and allow yourself and Bakugo to make the much needed decisions to save yourselves from drowning in loveless relationships. content // backstory, angst & some comfort, mentions & descriptions of abuse from a partner (physical & mental), ex-bakucamie & ex-toya/dabi & reader, smoking, reference to alcohol & drug usage wc // 2.4k 『 ink & rhythm masterlist ⊹ crossposted to ao3 』

February

This is it, this is the moment you've waited for.

A familiar ache pulses in your chest, your heart begging you to reconsider your actions.

No, not again.

Never again.

There's no use in dwelling on empty feelings right now. You need to take advantage of the opportunity to finally escape from the demon that's shackled you to this hellscape called a relationship. His sharp tongue can't convince you any longer that this pain is love in disguise. There's nothing left to save, no more hope left in your broken heart to fuel the promise of change. Two years of holding onto a nonexistent future, forced to accept that this reality was the closest you'd get to having a happily ever after, full of fights fueled by drugs and alcohol. The screaming matches, shoving, threats…and the love bombing to make everything magically disappear in front of others.

There's no way in any circle of hell that this is love.

You tip toe across the bedroom under the moonlight, careful not to wake him from his comatose state. The soft green and purple hue around your wrists was a forceful reminder of the last time you woke him…no, you can't think about that right now. Grabbing a few odds and ends, you gently tuck your backpack over your shoulder and walk out of the bedroom, leaving the door cracked to not make any sound. Once you're in the living room and at the foyer, you can feel the freedom in your grasp. You're shaking while lacing your sneakers, biting your lip to keep all of your emotions contained, holding it in until you can close the front door and bolt to your car.

The sound of the wooden floor creaks from the bedroom, a jolt of lightning paralyzing every muscle in your body.

Please.

Please go back to bed.

A few moments pass with no additional movement, the breath you were unconsciously holding slipping past your lips. It's not much, but the things you managed to grab will hold you over until you get somewhere safe - your phone, car, and backpack with a change of clothes is all you can risk to take with you. Anything else would've been a dead giveaway to your plan.

The latch on the front door is the equivalent of a car backfiring in your mind, the slightest sound echoing through the silence of the apartment keeping you on edge. One last look over your shoulder and the coast is clear.

You're free. You've done it!

Shutting the door has you internally celebrating with joy, not caring how loud the click of the lock sounds now that you're outside the apartment. Before any second thoughts come flowing into your mind, you find yourself sprinting for the stairwell, rushing faster than your feet could carry you to the car. You swing the driver door open, jumping inside and throwing your backpack into the passenger seat. The keys are in the ignition and your foot's on the gas before you have a chance to think about where the hell you're even going, laughing with relief that you managed to get away. Part of you feels psychotic for laughing uncontrollably - call it a defense mechanism, but goddamn, it felt fucking liberating to run away.

Until your phone starts buzzing in the cup holder, repeated cycles of vibrations rattling against the plastic. You already know who it is. Who else would be calling you at 4AM besides him? And that's when it hits you - your shared location is turned on. Pulling over to the nearest shoulder, you have to talk yourself out of the incoming panic attack and turn the damn thing off before he finds you. Opening the settings of your phone, you're trying to turn off the functionality when a passcode screen prompts you to input the correct code.

Fuck!

You forgot about the argument the two of you had about trust, resulting in him stealing your phone in the middle of the night and putting parental locks on every setting that could hide you from him. There's only one thing to do - ditch the entire thing. Scrambling for a pen and paper, you quickly jot down the important numbers in your phone into a random notebook before turning off the phone completely. Losing all of your memories, notes, and other precious things is bittersweet, but it's not worth keeping if it means he continues to have the opportunity to hunt you down.

And so, you smash it. It's poetic, in a fucked up way.

You don't stop driving until you're a few miles down the road, parking at one of the popular cliffside lookouts outside of town. The water below roared with intensity as it slammed up against the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff, taunting you to jump in. It's taken a lot of guts to run away. You'd considered throwing yourself into the abyss once upon a time, but realized that's probably what the bastard wanted you to do. Out of spite, you couldn't give him the satisfaction. It's shockingly difficult to let go of the broken phone in your hands, even though it symbolizes a new beginning, it's terrifying to think about starting over. You're already planning on changing your name, getting a new number, replacing your license plate, and anything else attached to the name he knew you as. The obsessive thought of him finding you again plagues your brain, constantly needing to watch your back in case he appears out of thin air.

…will you ever be safe as long as he's alive?

No more waiting, no more hesitation.

One final exhale fills you with the confidence to finally let go. Your phone drops to the rocks below, tumbling with a soft crack before being completely submerged in the darkened waters.

"Fuck you, Toya," you curse. "I hope you rot in hell."

Maybe you'll be lucky and he'll think that you jumped after all, tracing your phone to this location to find nothing but open water.

Driving away from this god forsaken town for the last time fills you with dread and glee, a weird combination of chemicals banging around in your head and chest the rest of the night. A few hours later, the sign for your hometown comes into view with the sunrise peaking over the horizon - a brand new dawn. The bastard never cared to learn where you came from, meet your family or your friends outside of college, and right now? That was a blessing in disguise.

You pull into the driveway of your parents home a little before 7AM, the weight of your decision finally setting in. Holy shit, you left. You got out and survived.

You fucking survived Toya Todoroki.

~

July

2:05AM and Bakugo can't sleep.

He never rests while Camie is around, especially after a night of fighting about the stupidest shit imaginable. She laid peacefully on the opposite side of the bed, naked under the sheets with her hair splayed across the silk pillow. He can't stand to look at her.

Or himself.

Bakugo couldn't even give a valid reason as to why he stays with Camie. She's the poison and the antidote, stuck in a vicious cycle of hate fucking with no semblance of love, and yet…he lets her back in. A few crocodile tears and the flutter of her eyelashes up at him makes him crumble like ancient stone. She only comes around whenever she's feeling lovesick, desperate to manipulate Bakugo's feelings like a master puppeteer if she can't get another random guy to come home with her.

And goddammit, it works.

He throws on a pair of sweats and heads to the living room, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter before pivoting to the balcony. The stars feel like friends tonight - they were always there whenever he needed an escape from Camie. He hated being alone with his feelings, the incessant thoughts battling in his head as to why he gives a shit about her. Bakugo swears everything was perfect in the beginning…three years ago. It's been a shitstorm ever since, the longest one night stand he's ever dealt with. Camie has never shed a genuine tear over him. Not during fights, break ups or makeups. She knew all the ways to get under Bakugo's skin, how to break down his walls and use his insecurities against him while keeping him wrapped around her manicured finger. It pissed him off to no end that he sees through her charade, and yet, his heart yearns for connection and Camie is the closest thing he's got.

Sitting here and wallowing in his disgust isn't going to change a thing, and for whatever reason, tonight felt like the right time to finally give himself a kick in the ass. Bakugo grabs his phone and calls the one person he knows will hold him accountable - Kirishima. The line rings a few times before Mina's high pitched yawn echos over the speaker.

"Kaaatsu…It's 2AM," she whispers. "You okay, babe?"

Far from it.

"I know, sorry for wakin' ya. I need to talk to Eijiro."

She pauses for a moment, knowing Bakugo wouldn't be calling so late if it wasn't important.

"Sure, gimmie a sec to wake him."

It's faint, but Bakugo can hear Mina coaxing Kirishima awake. 'Ei baby, Katsuki’s on the phone for you.'

There’s more shuffling before Kirishima takes the phone from Mina.

“Heya Kats. Everything okay?”

“…no. I fucked up, Ei.”

Kirishima sighs. He knows what this is about before Bakugo even says another word.

"Camie?"

Bakugo pauses to swallow the lump forming in his throat.

"Yeah. Can I crash on your couch tonight?"

"'Course you can. I'll wait up for ya."

"Thanks."

What the fuck was Bakugo thinking? Is he really going to leave in the middle of the night?

Fuck it, it's what Cami deserves after all the times she's done it to him. This is nothing compared to the shit she's pulled. Changing the locks to their joint apartment and locking him out multiple times, bringing guys back to fuck loudly in their bed to make him jealous, letting her one night stands wear his clothes, burning his music collection in the dumpster out back of the building, threatening to off herself if he didn't stay with her…the list goes on.

He grabs an extra pair of clothes, his phone charger, wallet, keys and his favorite hoodie. When he throws it on, a whiff of Camie's obnoxious perfume clouds his senses, his stomach churning at the thought of her wearing it around the house. He takes off the hoodie and tosses it into the corner of the room - he'd rather be cold than have any lingering reminder of her.

Making his way to the door, he kicks his feet into a pair of sneakers and turns to face the living room. In his heart, he knew this would be one of the final times looking at this scene, but he needed to leave it in the past. Bakugo needed to leave Camie two and a half years ago, and he tried his damndest to do so. She always slithered back in and sunk her claws into him.

This time will be different.

It has to be different.

Bakugo opens the door, and as he's halfway out, Camie's voice travels down the hall from the bedroom. "Kiki? Where'd ya go?"

God, he fucking hated when she called him Kiki.

He shuts the door before his heart has a chance to give in to her saccharine pleas.

The sounds of his motorcycle underneath him as he drives to Kirishima and Mina's apartment soothes his nerves. The rumble of the engine and the breeze on his exposed skin, nothing but the night sky accompanying him. When Bakugo gets to the apartment, Kirishima's already by the door, waiting for him outside.

"Hey," Kirishima calls, nodding in Bakugo's direction. "Nice night for a ride."

Bakugo chuckles at Kirishima's attempt to lighten the mood. "Every night is a nice night for a ride."

The two of them go inside, Bakugo tossing his shoes to the side and plops face down on the couch. Kirishima comes to join him, patting him on the back.

"You wanna talk about it?"

No, he really doesn't, but he needs to get all this pain out of his body. There's no way Bakugo could go another moment without exploding if he didn't word vomit all of this pent up resentment and heartache.

"I fuckin' let her back in, Ei. I'm a goddamn idiot."

Kirishima tugs on Bakugo's arm to sit him upright on the couch, arm slung over his shoulder.

"We all fuck up sometimes, Kats."

Bakugo grumbles as his fingers tighten on his knees. "I hate her so goddamn much. For everything." He takes a deep breath before moving his head into his hands, the pressure behind his eyes becoming too much to hold in. "I hate that I love…loved her. She's the bane of my fuckin' existence. She's a two-timing bitch! Why…"

Kirishima tucks Bakugo against his side, letting him ride out the emotions as they continued to surface.

"Why was I never good enough for her?" His voice cracks before a sob escapes him. "Why am I never enough?!"

Mina slinks into the living room, sleepily rubbing her eyes as she makes way over to the couch, kneeling in front of Bakugo and cupping his face in her hands. She wipes away a few stray tears from his cheeks.

"Katsuki, you are enough, babe. That bitch doesn't deserve any ounce of you, including your tears. The hardest part is over, and now you can focus on yourself."

She's right. Bakugo knows she's right.

But can he focus on himself when all he's known is a life with Camie for the last three years?

"Mina's right, Kats," Kirishima chimes in while running a hand through Bakugo's hair. "You did the right thing, man. You can stay here as long as you need. Alright?"

In what world could he avoid Camie forever? Bakugo knows how she operates and she'll be making his life a living hell until his dying day. He agrees with a nod, moving away from their comforting grasps to lay down on the couch, curling into himself against the cushions. Kirishima and Mina retreat back to their bedroom, leaving Bakugo on the couch with his thoughts.

The worst is yet to come, but for once, he feels…safe, lighter than he has in a long time.

🎶 fans ; @bells-28 @nemisimp @hotttamalee

@slayfics @maddietries @starieqq

@liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3

@simp-plague @napbatata

[suksatoru]

his hero... ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

synopsis; dabi finds his new obsession - you - a sweet hero who he loves to play cat and mouse with ⊹₊ ⋆

pairing dabi x reader!

Dabi has been watching you for a while now.

He shouldn't be anywhere near you - he knows this. But he simply can't help himself. How can he when the most wonderful hero is right in front of him - kind voice weaving through the crowd as you attend to all the children running up to you, begging for an autograph?

He had originally ventured to the better part of the city, where kids played freely in their front yards and vendors sold their fruits and vegetables to passerby’s without fear. He didn't know why he did exactly - but a change of scenery felt necessary.

He didn't tell the League a thing, wordlessly leaving their hideout in dark jeans and hoodie pulled over his head as he began what he believed to be a quiet stroll.

He heard the voices of excited chatter before he actually saw you. Turning the corner, he already anticipated the crowd of people had only formed because they had spotted a pro-hero. He was right of course, and as he tried to push through the crowd to pass through - he struggled to easily maneuver through the mass of people. There were too many.

Normally, he would've shoved every single person in his way to the ground if he had to - but he knew just how much attention that would attract in this type of environment. Especially if a hero was nearby. With a quiet groan, he realizes he's stuck.

Finally, he lifts his eyes off the ground to see the hero all these people were fawning so much over.

You're kneeling on the ground as a little boy is crying the happiest of tears, eyes shining with nothing but childish adoration while he hugs you. You whisper something in the toddler's ear that sends him into a fit of giggles - and Dabi watches how you treat all the children that follow him in the same manner, kindly offering them your undivided attention and treating them with the upmost respect. Every child left your embrace with the widest grin ever plastered on their chubby cheeks.

Dabi's eyes were solely on you - a beacon of light that completely outshined the darkness.

That was the first time Dabi saw you.

˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

"Come on, hero! Come catch me." he drawls out

Your legs ache. Just how long had you been chasing the notorious flame villain Dabi for? This was nearing the second hour, and every other hero in the area was unavailable to come help you as back up.

"You are insufferable!"

He tries not to smile, peering down at you from the building he was perched upon as he watches your eyebrows furrow adorably, lips pulled back into a frown as your gaze narrows.

You had been seeing a lot of Dabi recently. He was building quite the reputation amongst the city, wreaking havoc and petty crimes often. If only you knew they were all to get your attention.

"I think it's pretty funny no heroes are around to help you, huh? I get you all to myself tonight." He says, and the unmistakable flush on the tips of your ears evokes a raspy laugh from him

"Why are you doing this? Don't you have better things to do?" You sigh, exasperated by the endless chase he had you running. He's silent, still smirking at you deep in thought - he was contemplating his next move, and you know he had made up his mind when his lips curled into a menacing smirk

He comes down from where he was perched atop a building, landing on the ground with a gracefulness that had you mentally scoffing. You've been going insane out of your mind chasing him, out of breath too as you tried to keep up with one of the most powerful villains - but he seemed so relaxed, almost as if he were playing some sort of a game.

A blast of flame shoots from his palm - and you let out a cry of surprise before shielding yourself from the unexpected attack

The fire wraps around you - it was hot, licking your skin as it moved - but the flames did not touch you. They were merely a distraction.

Lowering your hands from your face, you realize you've lost sight of Dabi.

You're completely still for a moment - unsure of what move to make next as you realized he was hiding somewhere in the shadows. The moonlight above gave you no advantage in this fight. It barely lit the dim street you stood on, and your heart beat pounded in your ears as you realized the situation you were in.

"Hey hero! Now that I think about it, I remember hearing a little something about you."

You whip around in a panic, trying to find Dabi's figure in the dark as your eyes squint in frustration

Night patrol had been going so smoothy - of course he had to show up right when your shift was about to end.

"Dabi - "

You can barely finish saying his name before he holds his hands up in mock surrender, grinning mockingly when you slowly lower your own hands. He knew your hero heart was too good to attack him unless he made the first, violent move.

"What do you want from me?" You sigh, and he stuffs his hands back into the pockets of his coat with a shrug

"Can't I drop by and spend some time with my girlfriend?"

There he goes again. Saying the most random things at the most random times that leave you a stuttering, blushing mess -

"W - What? You are not my boyfriend!" You yell, genuine frustration in your features as you tap your foot impatiently against the ground - unsure of where he was going with this conversation

"Yet." He rasps with a crazed grin

A shiver runs through you at his words.

Your eyes harden, narrowing on him once again as he finally pounces- he didn't use his quirk - instead, his hand reached out towards you with the speed of light as he tried to wrap it around you. You dodge his attack, side stepping and wrapping a single leg around his. He struggles for a moment with his balance before he's pinned against the nearest building - his back hits the brick wall with a thud, and a flicker of surprise flashes through those bright blue eyes as he looks at you

You had managed to best him - and a part of him was happy you did. The lamplight illuminated your face, and his mind trailed back to the way your face glowed when his blue flames had come near you.

Finally - you had him under your control. You press his body against the wall with all your weight - hand raised to the side of his face as a warning that you would activate your quirk if he tried to escape -

Yes, you had finally gotten him -

"You're really pretty, ya'know that?"

You blink back at the villain - taken a back by his words mid fight as your grip on him loosened just the slightest bit - and that was all he needed to knock you off your feet, flipping your arms as he pinned your wrists to the wall, enticing a gasp from you

He grins, tongue poking through his sharp teeth as he peers down at you

"Real pretty..."

Your quirk was of no use if you couldn't move your hands - and he held your wrists above your head with a single hand against the wall, his knee keeping your legs separated as he prevented you from making a single move

"Imagine how much fun you'd have on a date with me - I promise, it'll be the best night of your life. You haven't even given this poor man a chance. " He mocks, bright eyes watching you with a sly smirk as you struggle to release yourself from his grip

"Let go!" You cry out, trying to push him off of you - it didn't help that he was so much larger, his tall figure towering over you as he laughed

"Nuh uh. I don't think so." He drawls out, and you can feel his grip on you tightening as his free hand comes down to gently tug on a loose strand of hair - you move forward to try and bite his finger - and he yanks his hand back at the last second, a hoarse cackle sounding through the air as you glare at him

"Aren't you just precious?"

You're fed up now - tired of him playing cat and mouse with you. Twisting your arm - you maneuver yourself around him and free yourself from his grasp - planting a firm kick onto his back before he can even turn around

That kick would've knocked the wind out of any one else’s lungs - but as he kneeled on the ground - his hands being pulled behind his back by you, a dark chuckle leaves his lips.

"If you wanted me on my knees like this, you could've just asked me hero." He says, and his eyes widen when you press your palm against his mouth to silence him

"Stop it."

He can see the undeniable blush coating your soft cheeks - and he grins sharply at the lovely sight, hoping he can stare at you long enough to engrave it into his brain forever.

Of course, he escaped police custody mere days after being let out of your sights.

˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

one week later - the day of his escape.

"A present?" You mumble quietly, smiling to yourself as you pick up the bouquet left outside your door. Dark blue flowers are bundled together with white lace, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

This was obviously a personal gift - not something from one of your fans. You're home was a private location, so the only reasonable conclusion as to who gifted this bouquet to you was one of your other hero friends.

A small card is tucked between the petals of a flower, and you pry it open with delicate fingers while reading the lanky, dark handwriting written on it.

Go check what's on your bed, hero ;)

You freeze, eyes scanning over the note again as you try to take in the words - your bed? inside your apartment? But - how did Dabi find you? Again?

You fumble with your keys, heart beating as you shove them into the door knob- twisting it open as you rush inside, flowers still in hand as you approach your bedroom

There's a husky smell - one simply too manly to be yours, and it hits your nostrils the second you enter your bedroom.

On your bed laid your hero costume.

The name "Dabi" was written obsessively over every inch of the fabric in dark ink.

It didn't seem like this was a little liking Dabi took to you anymore - no, this was a need - one that burned too fiercely to be put out

Lucky you.

[doumadono]

was wondering how tomura shigaraki and dabi would respond to a female reader after she lost her parents to criminals and no hero came to save them? if you have any questions to clear things up dm me

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Dabi

It was one of Dabi's rare quiet moments, where he let himself sit in his usual slouch, one leg draped over the armrest of a tattered couch, fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers as his gaze was fixed on a ceiling. Smoke curled from his lips in lazy spirals, painting hazy shadows across his face.

You sat across from him on the tattered couch, your eyes unfocused as you stared at the TV.

The news had just aired another report, praising a group of heroes for their brave intervention in rescuing civilians from a hostage situation.

Dabi’s eyes had flicked toward you, catching the way your shoulders tightened, your hands clasped so hard your knuckles turned white.

You looked as if you were barely breathing.

“Something eating you?” His voice broke the silence, casual but carrying an edge that forced attention. You startled, turning to him, and his narrowed eyes tracked you through the hazy filter of smoke. “You’ve been weird ever since that report.”

You looked away, struggling to keep your expression blank. “It’s nothing. Just thoughts.”

“Oh, don’t pull that on me.”A flicker of impatience creased Dabi’s face, and he took another slow drag, eyes half-lidded as he exhaled a plume of smoke that seemed to linger, heavy and expectant. “Is that right? So, nothing’s had you looking like you’re gonna crack any second?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he fixed you with that sharp stare. Dabi’s voice was sharp, almost bored when he asked, “Since when did you start lying to me?”

His tone was flat, but it twisted something inside you, dragging the words from a place you thought you’d buried. “It’s 'bout my parents,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “They… They were killed by criminals. They were just waiting for someone — anyone — to come and save them. But no heroes came.”

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the faint crackle of Dabi’s cigarette. His gaze hardened, mouth set in a sharp line as he took in your words. “So they were stranded?” It was hardly a question.

You nodded, and he scoffed, flicking ash to the ground, his hand flexing like he was picturing crushing something far less innocent than a cigarette. “So, let me get this straight. These heroes get pats on the back for doing the bare minimum, but when it mattered…?”

“...They didn’t come,” you finished, the words rough, each syllable scraping against the memory. You let out a shaking breath, turning to Dabi, unable to hide the raw hurt. “I know it’s pointless to dwell on it, but I thought heroes were supposed to help.”

He laughed, a harsh sound with no warmth. “Heroes. Yeah. All they care about is their damned spotlight.” He took another drag, the smoke curling between you both like a veil. “Let’s be real — they don’t give a shit about people like you and me. We’re the background to their big, showy heroics.”

You looked down, feeling the truth of his words cut into you, bitter and sharp. “I thought they were good,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.

“Good?” Dabi scoffed, his voice was low, dangerous, tainted with a resentment that felt as familiar as it was twisted. “They’re parasites. They want to look good, sound good. But the moment they’re out of the spotlight?” He exhaled, the smoke carrying his words, thick and full of venom. “You’re just another nobody left in the ashes.”

Slowly nodding your head, you fidgeted in your spot a little, trying to find a comfortable position while pulling your knees under your chin.

“You know,” the fire-quirked villain started, voice dripping with venom, “I’d bet anything that bastard Endeavor would spit on corpses if it meant climbing one step higher on his precious ladder. Hell, he’d probably grin about it, too.” He let out a slow, bitter chuckle, smoke curling around his face as he leaned back, cerulean eyes fixed on you. “Heroes like him? They’re all about that damn rank. Doesn’t matter who they trample or leave behind in the dust.”

You flinched, the thought of a hero so revered by the world doing something so heartless hitting you like a punch to the chest. But as you looked at Dabi, saw the bitterness carved into every line of his face, you knew he believed it with every fiber of his being. And somewhere deep down, you found yourself believing it, too.

“He’s proof that heroes don’t care,” Dabi continued, his voice low, almost a growl. “Everything they do, it’s for the spotlight. They’d let the whole damn world burn if it meant looking like gods when they finally swoop in to save the day."

He took another drag, then exhaled slowly. “They’re not worth the damn pain, you know that?” He leaned closer, close enough that you could smell the smoke mingling with the faint scent of burned leather on his coat. “Let it go. You’re wasting your breath on a rigged game. Aim that anger at the right people.”

The cigarette burned down to its last smoldering inch, and he let it drop, grinding it into the floor with the heel of his boot. His voice softened, but it was no less cutting, each word sharp and unrelenting. “Don’t waste your grief on them, on people who’d rather walk over your bones than lift a finger to help. If you’re gonna feel anything, let it be anger. They’re the ones who deserve it. People like us? We learn early on. Heroes don’t save us. We save ourselves.”

You swallowed hard, his words settling into your chest like smoldering coals. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Dabi."

"Anytime," he playfully tapped your nose before grabbing the remote to change the channel.

Shigaraki

The news hit like a brick thrown through glass.

Shigaraki had been leaning against the tattered, peeling wall of the League's hideout, his usual impatience masked beneath an outwardly calm stare as the TV anchor praised the hero squad for their latest rescue. The words commendation ceremony and heroic intervention dripped from the screen, followed by footage of the smiling, grateful civilians they'd saved.

That was when Shigaraki noticed you — frozen, your eyes locked on the screen but devoid of focus. He knew that look too well.

Without a word, he turned off the TV with a sharp flick. The silence was jarring. Everyone else had left the room, leaving only you and him in the shadows, and he could feel the tension radiating from you, thick and unmistakable. “Something’s eating you,” he muttered, voice low. He approached you slowly, each step deliberate. You stayed silent, hugging yourself as if shielding against memories that had started seeping through the cracks. “You haven’t been yourself. Not for a while now.”

Your mouth opened, as if to speak, but the words refused to come.

Shigaraki's gaze tightened, his face cloaked in shadow as he leaned down, his pinky finger raised delicately as he cupped your cheek with his calloused hand. The contact was surprisingly gentle, yet his grip left no doubt about his intentions. “I don’t like being ignored. Especially not by you.”

It was a whisper, barely more than a breath, but it shattered the barrier you’d been holding up. You swallowed hard, then looked up into his crimson eyes, feeling his hand burn against your skin like a brand. “My parents…” Your voice cracked, trembling with the ache of unspoken pain. “They were killed by criminals. They were just normal people. They thought heroes would come to save them.”

You told him everything. That people waited but no one had come. No heroes had appeared, not even as everything you loved slipped away.

When you finished speaking, you looked down, twisting your hands together, waiting. Waiting for some kind of response, some words of comfort or outrage.

But he was silent.

You glanced back up, and what you saw made your heart stutter.

Shigaraki was scratching his neck, his fingers digging into the skin, red welts rising beneath his nails, his lips pulled back in a twisted half-grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked haunted, unhinged, every bit of him coiled tight with a rage you could feel pulsing in the air.

A tear rolled down your flushed cheek, your chin quivering.

A beat of silence passed, and then another. Shigaraki’s red eyes sharpened as he reached his hand out to wipe the tear off with his thumb. "So no one came.” His voice was dark, edged with something colder than empathy — an understanding that cut straight to the bone. His hand stilled, but his fingers curled tightly against his neck, his knuckles white with the pressure.

You shook your head, hands clenching as the memories clawed back up, dragging you under. “No one. They… They died waiting.”

Tomura sat beside you, leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes narrowing as his voice turned colder. “They left you to rot. Left you to suffer so they could keep up appearances.” His lip curled, and he shook his head slowly, that dark, knowing smirk twisting his face. “Heroes… The real disease of our world."

He watched you, eyes half-lidded, barely blinking. He had no soft words, no platitudes, but his presence was a comfort laced with something darker, something real. “They pretend to save everyone, wear their titles like armor. But they’re weak, selfish, just waiting to play hero for the cameras.”

The flicker of resentment in his voice pulled at you, like kindling to a flame. He didn’t flinch, didn’t try to smooth over the pain — he let it breathe, feeding off your anger as if it were his own. The tight line of his jaw, the way his shoulders stiffened, all betrayed the depth of his own hatred.

“You’re right,” you whispered, the words feeling sharp in your throat, sharper than they’d ever felt before. “They don’t care about people. They never did...”

His hand moving back to your face. “Then stop hurting over it. They’re not worth your pain. They’re nothing.” His thumb traced along your jaw, an unexpected tenderness threaded through his quiet fury. "I want to rip them apart,” he uttered, his tone low and venomous, voice shaking with the intensity of his hatred. “Every single one of those worthless fakes. I want to watch them decay, feel them crumble to dust.” His voice dropped even lower, so quiet you barely heard him. “I want them to suffer.”

You nodded, feeling the first glimmers of solace in his touch. It was twisted, tainted by anger, but it was real.

He leaned closer to you, simply placing a kitten kiss to your cheek before saying, “No one else gets to hurt you like this.” His voice wavered, a hint of something raw, vulnerable, beneath the anger. “Not while I’m here. Not while I can do something about it.”

[torasplanet]

I know bd!dabi is definitely the type to be banging on your door at 3 in the morning, after calling you and seeing somebody in the backround (it was a literal shadow..)

❝𝙈𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝘽𝙔.ᐟ❞

BABYDADDY!DABI + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; dabi can't stand the thought of you with someone else so when he sees something that looks like a guy in the slightest, of course he came banging at your door at three in the morning.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; smut, dabi is actually trying not to be a deadbeat!?!?, p in v, praise, rough sex, masochism, hair-pulling, slapping, soft dabi at end ig, jealousy sex, dabi is crazy, and skin color not mentioned

Dabi was actually trying to be a good dad now. You and Dabi had learned to set the shit aside or more like fuck out all of that anger but it didn’t matter because it helped a lot and now Dabi was taking Kaede over to his place a lot, buying him more shit and taking him places without you even having to ask him to do it. He was calling daily and nightly and not just to talk to you but to check up on his little mini-me.

He called you about two hours ago and it was one in the morning when Kaede was surprisingly still awake not wanting to go to bed until he told his daddy about the fun show he watched today but when Kaede had passed out on your chest, Dabi still hadn’t hung up. He wanted to stay up and talk to you. “Don’t you got work tomorrow?” You asked looking at your ex-boyfriend on the phone as he sat in his living room smoking, the light of whatever adult swim show he was watching illuminating his face for you. “Nah, you forgot my schedule already?” The white-haired man asked with a grin on his face.

You returned the grin so that it looked as though he was staring into a mirror “No, just so used to you lying so you can see your other girlfriends.” Dabi smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth whilst he rolled his eyes nearly to the back of his skull “Don’t start dollface. Y’know I don’t do that shit anymore.” Dabi said, his smile dropping as he was annoyed with your teasing and it made you laugh while you ran your fingers through Kaede’s dark hair as he slept soundly on top of you “I’m just playin’ touya.” You said to reassure him and he grinned at you once more.

Kaede slowly began to stir in his sleep making you look down, you put the phone on the bed in front of you setting it up on the bedframe so that Dabi could still see you before you tended to your son. You readjusted the way he lay on you so he didn’t wake up while cooing sweet things in his ear but Dabi wasn’t focused on that. He was more or so focused on who the fuck was in the bed beside you.

“Who the fuck is that?” The Todoroki male questioned angrily. His brows furrowed as his turquoise eyes squinted trying to find out what guy was in the bed but there was no one. It was a fucking shadow. “Huh? No one.” You responded looking to your side and seeing no one there as Kaede wrapped his little arms around your neck while trying to find his way back to sleep. Dabi didn’t say anything and just stared at you even glaring by squinting his eyes at you and then, he hung up. Okay, now he was mad. About what? You had no fucking clue.

There was literally no one in this house other than you and your son so he was going crazy and getting mad about nothing. Whatever, you had to put Kaede in his room anyway.

Standing up, you left your phone on the bed as you made your way out of your room and to Kaede’s room which was decorated with all kinds of toddler stuff involving his favorite shows and movies that he begged you to watch every time he got home from daycare. “Mommy…” The little blue-eyed boy murmured as you lowered him into his bed while shushing him. It took a little while to get him to go back to sleep fully because he would not let you leave his bedside even for a second without beginning to cry. You had to sit there holding his baby hand while he snuggled into his Adventure Time plushie until his grip on your fingers released signaling that he was fast asleep.

This itself took a while and it was enough time for Dabi to hop in his car and drive over to your place. As you walked out of Kaede’s room, closing the door behind you, there was banging at your front door. You would’ve thought the SWAT team was at your door if it wasn’t for the fact that you already knew Dabi was upset and how he was when he was upset. “What…?” You sighed approaching the door and beginning to unlock the door expecting Dabi to just glare down at you but he didn’t even look at you before he pushed past you inviting himself in your place.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You asked in a hushed tone not wanting to wake up the younger boy as you watched Dabi walk throughout the apartment, looking under the couch, in closets, and all of the rooms. Well, except for Kaede’s; he knew you weren’t going to hide another guy in your son’s room, that was just wrong. “Tell me who the fuck was in here before I find him myself.” Dabi said as you walked into your bedroom where he currently was flipping everything upside down looking for that ‘guy’.

You scoffed at his overreaction “It was a shadow, touya.” You told him and he just glared at you “I’m telling you now if I find a fucking guy in here, I will murder him [y/n].” Dabi said stalking closer to you and forcing you to back up until your back hit the wall near the doorframe but you didn’t give a single shit. Well, you didn’t care about what how he was acting but you cared about what he was saying and saw a way to just piss him off a little more. For fun, you know? “There’s no one in here. If there was why would you care? Not like we’re together.” You said shrugging your shoulders as you crossed your arms into an ‘X’ across your chest. Dabi’s expression relaxed as if all the anger from his body had faded when those words left your mouth.

“[Y/n]. You and I both know that I don’t give a shit about any of that.” He said almost tauntingly. The corners of his lips pulled up as he leaned forward getting his face closer to yours “I don’t wanna find another man in here–best friend, co-worker, babysitter–I don’t give a shit. I don’t want no fucking guy around my son.” Dabi continued lowering his voice as he remembered that the son he was talking about was asleep right now.

Ugh, Dabi wasn’t fooling anyone especially not you. If he thought that you were going to believe that it was just about Kaede and not about him not wanting you to fuck or date another guy, he was incredibly stupid. You two weren’t officially together but to Dabi, that’s never mattered. From the moment you agreed to be his girlfriend, you’ve been his no matter if you two were on a break or not.

“Is it that or do you not want me dating?” Dabi smiled. Oh, you knew him so well. That’s why he stuck with you. “Can it be both?” Dabi asked with a low and sultry tone of his voice. It was so hot and you almost folded and kissed him right there if isn’t wasn’t for the fact that he madea mess in your room that he was definietly not going to clean up. “Obviously it’s both if you charged into my house at three in the fucking morning over a shadow while your son is asleep.” You said obviously less than pleased about his actions and he rolled his eyes while smacking his teeth at you like he did on the phone. You were upset at him and him continuing to yell at you about this ‘shadow’ was not going to calm you down.

“Doll…y’know I do it cause I love you.” He said pressing a kiss against your temple but you grumbled and shoved his face away from yours not wanting to deal with his stupid apologies. Dabi groaned as he pressed his body against yours “Just wanna make sure no one tryna take you from me.” Dabi said running his warm hands up and and down your body. You could smell the scent of nicotine and weed on him, it was incredibly strong like he was smoking on his way here.

You were slowly beginning to fold because of his words and how they were whispers in your ears, he knew what made you think and what made you whine. You threw your arms around his shoulders and hooked them around his neck as he littered kisses along your face earning hums from you “C’mon…why you playin’ baby.” Dabi whined into your ear getting a tad bit upset because you were playing hard to get when you’d just end up falling apart in his arms by the end of the night or by the break of dawn from how time was moving.

You backed up your head leaning back against the wall to look at him. The look on your face was enough to tell him why you were ‘playing’ around with him and you didn’t have to say anything “I’m sorry, lemme make it up to you.” Dabi said cooed to you as his hands ran over the shape of your body over and over and you smiled just a bit “You gotta be quiet tho…” You muttered to him not wanting to wake up Kaede and Dabi grinned. He was quick to place his hands on your ass and pick you up while pressing his lips to yours swallowing whatever sayings you were going to add to your sentence.

As Dabi moved away from the wall and closed the door you grabbed a handful of hair from the back of his head forcefully pulling him away from the kiss “I’m serious, if he wakes up, you’re taking care of it.” You said more sternly than the last time and Dabi made his way to the bed and collapsed down on the bed falling on top of you due to your strong grip on his hair but he laid on his knees to prevent from completely flopping on you “If you keep pullin’ my hair like that, the whole building’s gonna wake up.” Dabi said with an evil grin on his face and you let go of his hair just as roughly as you pulled it. How could you forget how freaky he was?

Dabi grinned and leaned his head down to begin to kiss all over your neck, he sucked and nipped at your flesh making your lips part widely resisting the urge to moan at his actions. You threw your head back as your hands came to the nape of his neck “Touya…” You muttered making your desired smile against your neck “Barely touchin’ you and you’re already moanin’ my name?” He asked and you grunted at his playfulness not wanting to do any foreplay.

“‘Cause I want you to touch me more.” You told him gently tugging at the strands of hair closest to the back of his neck, he let out low groans near your ear at your tugging. Dabi didn’t say anything, the only thing that happened was his hands drifting down and shuffling your pants and panties off with the assistance of you kicking them off. He loved when you pulled his hair, it felt so fucking good but only when you did it. Any other bitch who tried that shit would get their hand slapped away from his head.

“Be patient,” Dabi said in response to your small whimpers whilst he sat up on his knees to slide his jeans off, you merely groaned watching as he discarded his lower pieces of clothing before deciding to rid yourself of your shirt “Now c’mon…” You said reaching your arms up to grab at his shoulders, Dabi rolled his eyes at how impatient you were before grabbing your thighs and lining his cock up with your hole. You looked at his cock and grinned nearly drooling at the sight. Standing up straight, the tip is just a light brown leaking precum, prominent vein on the side that always rubbed against your walls. It’s like you had his cock memorized in your head and your pussy.

Dabi slowly began to push himself inside of you, his always warm hands grasping your hips so you wouldn’t slide up the bed “Ugh…slid right in, huh?” He said with a small chuckle watching as you sucked him in, he didn’t even start thrusting like normally and only did slow strokes. You groaned and grabbed a full handful of his hair and pulled it leaning up to come face to face with him “Fuck me like you meant what you said.” You said snarling at him. Dabi could fuck hard when he wanted to but sometimes he just liked to play with you and rile you up and you fucking hated it. If he was going to fuck you, he better do it right.

Dabi grinned eagerly as his head was tilted back, his turquoise eyes shining down at you with such bliss and enjoyment “Pull harder and maybe I’ll think about it.” Your eyes narrowed at him in a glare, you did pull harder but then you let go and slapped him across his face and it made him laugh a bit. Just like how no one else could pull his hair, no one could slap him like that and he’d enjoy it. It felt amazing knowing that it was you who was fulfilling his masochistic fantasies. “I fucking love you.” He said lowly tilting his head down at you. His hands pressed harder into your thigh, pushing them up and into your chest allowing him to sink deeper in your…

He hovered over you as you lay back on the pillows a red mark on the side of his face. Dabi’s lips met yours as his strokes became harder and quicker, he moaned with you into the disgustingly messy kiss and it was a good thing because you were certain that if the kiss broke, you would’ve woken up your son with how loud the both of you were.

That vein rubbed against your walls as Dabi’s cock bruised your cervix making your body jolt and your tits bounce from his speed and rough treatment of your cunt. His tongue fought with yours as he tried to shove it down your throat, your lips moving against each other while your body melted into each other like butter “I meant it. I’ll kill any fucking guy I find in this bitch.” Touya said into the kiss with a raspy voice, his hips slamming into your under thighs as his fingers grabbed the back of your knees tightly.

You tried to say something but couldn’t because of how intense the kiss was growing, utterly giving up on whatever babble was going to come out of your moaning lips. Your fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulders crawling their way down to claw at his back as the white-haired male ingested your loud mewls. As soon as your baby daddy parted his lips from yours, one of his hands went to your mouth to stop you from being extremely loud.

“Ha, and you were talkin’ about me being loud?” He laughed at your blissed-out face, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head, legs shaking by your head (whether it was because they were cramping or the pleasure was beyond him nor did he really care), it all made him smile, and moan trying to contain them as much as he was doing it for you. “Shut up.” You managed to get out slightly muffled from his hand making eye contact with him.

Dabi threw his head back with a groan “Nah, that’s more for you.” He rasped still with that grin on his face, you went to respond but his tip hit your sweet spot making your body shiver. “Ah, Ah! So…good…” The mewls left your lips still muffled by Dabi’s hand as he fucked into you. “Ah, that’s it, fuck my back up.” Your nails clawing at his back surely leaving red marks made him fuck into you harder.

Your pussy clenched around him as the squelches and moist sounds of you getting fucked out of your mind were the only noises coming from you “Fuck you better get quiet, wanna hear you just a bit.” Dabi said burying his face into your neck while letting go of your mouth allowing you to suck in a huge gust of air. “Touya…fuck, so full…” You moaned trying to keep it down as best as you could but it was really hard when he was fucking into you so hard and rough. Your walls were pulsing around him as you felt yourself coming to the edge, you knew he was too. By the way, he was kissing your neck so roughly, begging you to scratch him up, he wanted more and more to make himself burst.

“I’ll never fuck anyone else, I swear…just you.” Your hands trailed up to his neck as your head pushed back deeper into the fluffy pillow “Don’t you fucking lie to me.” Dabi said as he lifted his face from your neck and stared down at you as he continued to stretch you out, you nodded rapidly as you hummed through your moans that were trying to be muted by your lips staying glued shut but they slipped out ever so often.

Dabi’s blue eyes burned into your skin as he waited for you to talk. He wanted you to say it to him, you knew this but you were so close. Could barely talk. “J-Just you touya!” You yelped just as you came and the feeling of you squirting all over his cock made Dabi just…lose his fucking mind. He came inside of you, filling you to the brim and marking you as his. Only his. He pulled out and still held your legs to your chest watching as his cum began to seep out of your hole and down your sweaty skin to eventually fall on the already ruined sheets of the bed. It was his favorite sight.

Dabi stared in awe as you whined a bit “Holy shit.” He said before removing his hands allowing your sore legs to fall onto the bed allowing you to sigh in relief. Dabi lay on top of you just grinning down at you like he was in the previous act you were doing but it was different, it seemed more unserious than before. “What?” You asked tilting your head a bit as you tried to regain your breath as he had quite literally taken it all away.

“Nothing, just thinking about how fun it’d be if you got off birth control,” Dabi said with his unserious grin turning into a smug one as he stared at your blank face that had no expression now. He was not serious.

“Yeah get off me.”

“C’mon…I know Kei wants someone else to play with, maybe a girl?”

You began to try and push the male off you which hardly worked “Get up, my legs are already cramping.” You said and the todoroki boy groaned before rolling off of your naked body allowing you to stand on extremely wobbly legs and they had fallen asleep. Dabi watched with an annoyed expression as you tried to make your way to the bathroom. “C’mon baby don’t be like that!”

p.s.

You sat on the kitchen counter watching with an interested grin as Dabi cooked sausages on the stove “Why are you just sitting there doing nothing?” He asked glancing behind him at you with an exhausted look on his face. Shrugging your shoulders, you just kicked your feet that were dangling above the ground “I’m not doing nothing. I’m making sure you don’t burn the house down, you have a thing with fire.” You said making Dabi smack his teeth at you.

“Baby, it was one time. It was an accident.” Yeah sure. Dousing your dress–that I might add was a little too short for his liking–in gasoline and then lighting it on fire was definitely an accident and not because he didn’t like how guys were looking at you at the party. You two were two engrossed in your conversations that you hadn’t even noticed the small sound of a door creaking open and little footsteps leading toward the kitchen following the smell of breakfast.

Kaede stood there in his firetruck pajamas holding a plushie in his hands while rubbing his eyes tiredly, hair messy like Dabi’s was currently. “Mommy…?” The sound of the little boy’s voice made both heads turn toward him, the boy hadn’t noticed his father yet and went to walk to you until he did notice Dabi. The young boy looked at his father in confusion “Daddy? What are you doing here…wait! Did you come out of the phone?” Kaede asked with a shocked look on his face coming up with supernatural reasons why his dad was here suddenly.

“Uh, no kid. I got here…after you went to sleep.” Dabi said awkwardly to his offspring as he continued to watch the sausages. Kaede walked toward Dabi and gently hugged his leg but when the sounds of grease popping started, you grabbed him by his arm and pulled him away “Okay, let’s not be next to Daddy when he’s cooking.” You picked up your son and held him in your arms as he rested his head on your chest almost instinctively continuing to watch his dad before looking up at you.

His turquoise eyes blinked at you “I’m hungry. I want one, please.” He requested batting his long eyelashes at you that he also happened to inherit from his dad. You were almost jealous of how long they were. You turned to your ex-boyfriend who heard it and just stared at you waiting for you to say something “Kei’s hungry, give him one please.” Dabi rolled his eyes at how you were so quick to give in to anything the little boy wanted.

“He can wait.”

“I’m hungry now.”

“Yeah, he’s hungry now.” You said doubling down by playfully glaring at the older male who let out a dramatic and loud groan before grabbing one of the small sausages from the pan and dropping it in the palm of your hand “If he burns his mouth, it’s your problem.” With that, you slowly began to feed the sausage to the toddler who stuck his tongue out and let out harsh breaths because of how hot it was making you blow on the rest of the sausage.

Dabi watched in enjoyment as you did that, a dirty smile coming onto his lips and when you met his eyes, you gave him a confused look “What?” You asked raising an eyebrow but he shook his head with a small laugh.

“Nothing.”

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!