#laying across shigaraki's shoulders is it's favorite spot
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shipping-all-ships · 2 years ago
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You guys remember that post about prisoners who were given cats for rehabilitation and people were worried about the cats safety but the prisoners bonded with their cats and were so protective that someone got killed for spitting on someone else’s cat? Yeah, that’s the League with the stray kitten they found abandoned on the side of the road.
They always keep the kitten with them, always on someone’s shoulders or in their arms, and during a fight Endeavour accidentally kicks the cat. 
Silence. Then:
“Did you just kick my fucking cat?!” the League screeches before turning their murderous rage onto him. Toga is holding the cat and crying while the cat hams it up because it knows acting pathetic get more attentions.
He barely makes it out alive thanks to his teammates but is now known as the cat kicker hero. His reputation is in even more shambles.
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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago
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oh my god! your writing is amazingggg. may i please have a creepy! shiggy, dabi or hawks whichever one is easier for you where they really like the reader so they do yk normal creepy stuff like stealing her underwear and humping her bed and one day they get caught and they thought she’d be disgusted but she’s lowkey into it and she’s just super sweet and praising and a HUGE SERVICE TOP. I think they just need some good pussy 😔 if you decide to do this then THANK YOUUUU
。゚(TヮT)゚。 you’re too nice nonnie & tysm. i’m glad you’re here!
warnings: general degeneracy, masterbation, handjobs, SMUT, panty sniffin’   
You make a point to leave your room unlocked.
Oh, you’ll switch it up, every so often, just so he has something to work for, but  you prefer to pressure him with a time crunch instead of a locked door. It’s always so much fun. You make a show of dashing up the steps, feet thudding heavily on the warped wood. Then, right when you’re on the threshold, gosh, how could you be so daft, so thoughtless! You’d left your supplies downstairs, again! You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your shoulders. Silly, silly, silly.
The display does what you need it to, namely, giving him the chance to slink away. He’s always whisper quiet when he creeps into your space, it’s a miracle you’d caught him. But, even super-villains find themselves on the back foot sometimes, and boy, was he clumsy about this. 
It wasn’t like him. That was the slip up. No, his one, original, mistake was a simple one.
He’d left evidence of his arousal, of his lewd, heated, heart thudding, want. It was tacky, sticky, absolutely dripping with the milky residue of him. He’d tried to bury it deep, pressing it down into the bowels of your hamper, likely praying that it would remain hidden and you wouldn’t question it further when you did stumble upon it, hopefully weeks later.
You didn’t like to leave your hamper open and you certainly never, ever, left it beside your bed. It had been another long day and, at first, you’d only given it a swift glance, replaying the events of the night before. Maybe you’d lugged it over, too tired to pace the small distance? You had been in a rush. It was plausible.
Kicking your boots to the floor, you raise a hand to lower the lid of your plastic hamper when you spot the cascade of clothing. Again, it’s a tiny, tiny, fragment, but he should know better. It’s your job to notice the small, the obscure. Retcon is your bread and butter and this is too much, too tempting to ignore. 
Fingers follow the hollowed space his arm has left behind and you hit the panties, seconds later. They’re warm, wet, and you clutch them into your palm and pull.    
Fuck.
The lace is soaking. Fresh lines of cum run in thick rivulets, falling down your upturned hand and along your wrist, dribbling onto your bare feet. For a moment, you can’t seem to process the image that’s before you, your mind whirring through the possibilities, the faces. Who...no...which one of them did this?
The next morning, you’re quiet. It’s not unnatural. After all, it’s freaking 7 am, no one at the bar is talking. As you sip on your chilled, canned, coffee, your eyes carefully size up the men who are lounged around you. 
Shigaraki is perusing a newspaper, the pallid hand of father obscuring his face, but you can still catch sight of the red glint of his eyes. He looks bored. He hadn’t even looked up when you walked in, his back bowed and head down, engrossed in his search.
Dabi is perched on one of the dilapidated couches, his long legs curled under him, flicking a bashed lighter, open and closed, open and closed. Like Shigaraki, he hadn’t lifted his gaze to you at first. He had, however, answered a question. Just the one, when you’d asked him if he had found any newbies, any potential recruits. He’d snarked his reply, his cerulean irises latching onto you with a cruel sharpness. No was his answer and you hadn’t pressed for any further elaboration.
Compress was shuffling a deck of cards. Spinner was ticking through his phone. Twice was chittering with Toga. Nothing was out of the ordinary. You finish your breakfast and tell them that you’re heading out. 
No one replies.
******
Unsurprisingly, it happened again. 
It’s a different pair of panties but the glisten of the cum is the same. So is the lowered placement, the bevel of the clothes, and the position of the hamper. However, it’s a little more calculated this time around. The lid is closed and there are no traces of his entry, no cuts or nicks on the door handle or key hole, no scattering of your things, no dip on your bed. There’s nothing. 
Alright. Two can play at this game. 
The hamper is moved, strategically maneuvered into the bathroom that your room holds. You’re careful to leave the lid propped. It looks haphazard, but it takes a precise click of the plastic to lock it into that position. You’ll be able to tell if it’s been moved. 
You tug your panties out of your dresser and count them, noting the colors, patterns, the imperfections in the lace. If you’re going to do this, you need to know what you’re working with. The inventory must be precise, each variant recognized and tallied. 
Every day, it’s a rinse and repeat process. Yank the flutter of fabrics out, spread them across your sheets and count. It’s tedious, bordering on annoying, but you wanna know. It’s like an itch. It sits right where you can’t reach and it tickles at the back of your mind. Besides, you’ve always liked a good puzzle. Although, this isn’t quite what you had in mind, you’ll take it and you’ll solve it, if it’s the last thing you do. 
Two days after you start this mind-numbing task, four pairs go missing. 
******
It’s late when you stumble back into the hideout, padding past the darkened bar and up the steps. The mission, despite its lower ranking, and pay, you think bitterly, had taken almost three days. Thankfully, the information you’d gleaned was worth it, but you’re exhausted. You’re wiping a sleepy hand across your face when you notice your door.
It’s ajar.
Instinctually, you fall to your haunches, tip toeing toward the crack, eyes narrowed, fingers curled into fists. The room is pitch black but there’s something, no, someone, in there. You can make out their outline. It’s a jagged cut that sits upon your bed and you can hear the tiny hitches and groans that they’re gasping out.
As your eyes adjust, you can see more. Your knees fall to the floor, digging into the wood and you steady yourself against the wall, eyes wide. He’s propped along your pillows and his hand is working over himself, using the friction of another pair of your panties to rub himself to completion. You can’t make out the exact shape of his cock but from the rapid fire tugs of his fist you can tell it’s long. It must be thick too, since he needs to adjust his pulls toward the tip.
He’s quiet, but you can still hear the catches and moans he’s making. Your name slips out too and the utterance makes your mouth go dry. So that’s who it is. Well, wonders never cease. 
In the months that you’d known him, he hasn’t paid you much mind. Even through the haze of this strange obsession, he hasn’t altered his day to day routine, hasn’t broken character, hasn’t spoken to you unless the situation absolutely called for it. 
Damn. It’s too much, it’s way, way...no. No. It’s not that it’s too much, you think, mesmerized by the sight that’s splayed across your sheets. It’s nowhere near enough. 
You want to march in there, yank your soiled panties off his dick and hear what kind of noises he would make for you then. Would he shove you off, or would he welcome your notice? Either way, he’s too close now.
His hips have started to rut upwards, unable to resist the rhythm he’s created. The moans have drifted into hisses and his back arches when he cums, those familiar ropes of white splashing across the pastel of your lace. He’s careful to catch the drops, pinching the end of his cock and shuddering at the overstimulation. As he sits up, you cautiously rise, unsteady on your wobbling legs. 
You’re halfway down the stairs when your door shuts. His footsteps recede down the hallway and you can hear him as he thuds into his own space, the click of his lock reverberating in your ears. 
******
Thus, the game of cat and mouse continues. 
Outwardly, neither of you reveal your hand, keeping your cards close to the chest, out of each others line of sight. Your door locks, unlocks, and you keep losing more panties. You’ve marked the one that will make the difference. It’s your new, favorite, pair. You haven’t worn them yet, but they’re a lush item, expensive, luxuriant, an excess that you don’t usually allow yourself. You’d purchased them the day after you’d finally caught sight of him. You couldn’t help it. 
Most people, you reason, would be horrified by this situation, but not you. Oh no, you’re so turned on you can barely sleep. You start to masterbate in the early evening, when you know the others are moving around, your fingers trailing past your dampened curls, a careful fingernail pricking along your clit. You’ve even left your door open, cracked, welcoming the attention of anyone passing by. Once, you could have sworn you’d heard him. The whisper of that gasp, imagined or not, had bowled you over, your thighs clamping around your wrist, your cunt pulsing around nothing, hungry, slathering, desperate for more. 
You want to just toss those panties on your bed and provoke the interaction. Goddamnit, how much longer is he gonna make you wait?
****** 
Not even 24 hours later, they’re gone. 
He’s getting reckless, too. Your hamper is knocked over, the dresser drawer that holds your underwear is a crumpled mess, and he’s deliberately left a vacant hole where the panties used to lay. It’s screaming for your attention and you can feel your heartbeat thrumming against your breast. 
Finally.  
The next mission you’re assigned is easy, too easy. It’s mid-afternoon and there’s no reason for you to be back this early. Well, that’s an oversimplification. There is a perfectly excellent reason for you to be back, you’re just hoping the sliver of intel that was dropped for you will pay off. 
Apparently, while the rest of you were out pounding the pavement, he’s elected to stay behind. He had something he needed to take care of. 
“It sounded important,” Toga informed you, her voice lilting, rising with that sharp toothed smile of hers. 
“Why are you telling me this,” you’d asked her, biting your lip and crossing your legs, soothing the throb that’s pricking in your core. 
“He just told me to tell you, didn’t ask him anything more. You know how he is. He can be, prickly,” Toga winks, popping her head to the side, bouncing her golden locks. 
“Alright,” you reply, adding a mask of disdain and disinterest to your performance. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” 
Lies, lies. 
So many fucking lies, but he must know that you realize, that you know. Why else enlist Toga? He hated having to lay things out. No, he must know, he has to.    
The bar is empty and the upper floors are deathly still.
Your door is sensibly shut but you can make out his jerks, his gasps, and those choked whimpers that echo past the flimsy wood. Your hand catches against the knob and you take one, last, steadying breath. 
Here we go.       
When you swing the door open he startles upward, his white hair curtaining the flush of his cheeks. Those vermillion irises land on you and he vaults away, nearly tumbling off the side of your bed. His pants are still bunched around his thighs, so that hinders him from making a true getaway. As he’s fumbling with the dark material, you don’t miss the shake of his hands and the spread of that lovely blush.
Oh, this is too perfect.
Before he can finish tucking himself back in his pants, you’re dashing across the top of your bed, ignoring the discarded panties, ignoring the dark glare that he gives you, ignoring everything but that heated bulge that’s giving him so much trouble. 
Impatient, your fingers curl around his wrists and you use the millisecond of surprise that your swift action has gifted you. With a low gasp, he falls forward, his knees sinking into the softness of your mattress. One hand lowers to brace himself, but he’s careful to keep a finger arched away, preserving the permanence of your bed. Before he can get his bearings, you’re pressing him onto his back, straddling his lean hips and lowering those dark pants back down. 
His cock, badly concealed by the upper line of his boxers, springs out, curving proudly toward his muscled stomach. For his part, Shigaraki squirms under you, his scarred lip set in a forbidding scowl. His deadly hands lower to yours, but you ignore his unspoken threat, knocking his trembling digits away. Your  fingers lace around his cock, squeezing at the heft of him, stroking up the spidery veins and grooves until he’s dropping his defiant head back against your sheets. 
“Wh-what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls, his raspy voice halting over the question. 
“Who? Me?” you laugh, tugging a few more gasps from his shaking lips. There’s a pale strand of precum that’s leaking from his tip and you brush your thumb over it, gathering it against the pad and using it to ease your motions. His hips buck up and he shoves himself into your fist, a long string of curses slipping through his clenched teeth. 
“I don’t think you get to ask that, dear leader,” you tease, leaning over his prone form. You’re glad he’s forgone wearing that creepy hand. It hadn’t even come into your calculations of how all of this would go. “No, not with the way you’ve been behaving.”
“I-I didn’t...fuck–” 
“What? Didn’t think I’d find out?”
“You’re not supposed to be here. I sent you on that– ah– that mission for a reason,” Shigaraki bites out, shifting away from your close inspection. You smile at his discomfort and cup your free hand around his chin, yanking him back to you, forcing him to look up. 
“That’s too bad, cus’ I finished early. Looks like I’m just that good, huh?” 
He’s seething up at you, his eyes gleaming in the low light of your room, but he’s not making any attempts to leave. He may want to, but it seems his body has other plans. His cock is swelling as you pick up your tempo, your fingers clenching and releasing as you go, edging him along. 
“You ever fucked a girl?” you ask, leaning back to admire the tense enjoyment of the man under you. The muscles of his stomach, coil and writhe, flexing each time you hit his tip and relaxing as you make the swift pass back down. 
“N-no,” he moans, jerking his hips up, silently demanding that you pick up the pace. 
“Did you want to?” you whisper, lowering to his face again, letting your soft lips trace along his temple. His skin is rough, but you like the contrast. Shigaraki seems to enjoy it too, his eyes slipping behind his eyelids as he turns toward you. When he doesn’t answer, you slow the hand that’s passing over the strain of his length. Shigaraki hisses at the shift and his eyes pop open again. They burn as they blaze up at you, clearly echoing his displeasure. 
“Asked you a question,” you scold. He’s quiet for a long breath, but, after a few tense seconds, he lowers his eyes and nods, his jaw tight. “Should I take that as a yes?”
“I want you to fuck me,” Shigaraki grumbles, flashing a quick glare your way. “Was that clear enough for you?”
“Yes, sir,” you reply, one delicate eyebrow arching at his disgruntled expression.
“Don’t fucking call me that,” he huffs, grimacing as you lift your hand from him, freeing yourself to yank your shirt off. 
“What do you want me to call you?” you ask, unbuttoning your jeans and easing them down the curve of your hips. 
“My fucking name.”
“Shigaraki?”
“No. Tomura,” he replies, his voice falling into that deep rasp again. He’s watching you closely and you grin down at his frank assessment. 
“Alright, Tomura,” you begin, testing out the unfamiliar acknowledgement. “Let’s make this good for you, hmm? What are you wanting to try first?”
He’s silent and you can hear the grinding of his teeth. “What’s better for you?”
Oh. Well, that’s not a question you were expecting. “For me? Uh, I guess I prefer to be on top. Let’s me control things and–”
“So do that,” he shrugs, finally peeling those dark pants off his long legs. He leaves his shirt on, but it doesn’t matter, if you’re riding him it’s not like you can’t tuck your hands under the tattered fabric.
“After acting like such a creep, you’re being pretty nonchalant about all of this,” your fingers wander along his sides and he shudders again, his neck bowing off the bedding. 
“You’re one to fucking talk. Think I didn’t know what you were doing?”
“Ha! Well, well. No wonder you took my bait so easily. When did you figure me out?”
“That night you sat outside your door and watched me,” his hands raise to your hips and he urges you to hurry up, grunting when your dripping cunt traces over his tip. “Then you left your fucking door open. Not just once, either, no, you did it for days. It was a whole fucking week of that shit. Didn’t even need to steal a pair of your slutty little panties to smell you then. You reeked. I could smell you from my room.” 
You laugh, helping him to press up and he glides into you, stretching you, radiating a satisfying ache along the slippery heat of your walls. His legs lift and his hands fall from your hips. Once you’re fully seated, your pelvis flush with his, you give him a few gulping breaths. 
“Ahh, fuck, oh– fucking damn it. Ohh, this feels nice. God, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbles, his voice falling into a hysterical edge. You bite your lip and raise up on your knees, making sure you grip him tightly as you go. Another mantra of obscenities drop from his lips and his feet brace against the bed, his hips rutting blindly as you begin that slow lift and lower.
“How’s that?” you query, moaning when he returns those broad hands to your hips. His reply is a sharp thrust and you’re tipped forward, forced to sprawl over him, fingers digging for purchase in his dark shirt. He grunts at the weight of you but he keeps his pace up, using the bed as leverage. 
You’re so close to him and you can’t help but reach for his face, suddenly desperate to feel his lips against yours. He doesn’t fight your hold, but he does let out a long groan when you tentatively kiss him. It’s slow at first and you’re very conscious of those dangerous hands of his. They’re still braced against your hips, but the four digits are starting to dig into your skin, sinking into the vulnerable dips until you’re whining. 
He’s unsure, so you help him along. 
You suck and nip at him, teasing him until he’s raising his head for more. Finally, one of those powerful hands detaches from your waist and he snatches at the back of your neck, insisting that you let him explore you further. After a time, you need air more than you need his lips, so you shake yourself free, pulling away and grinding your hips down as he ruts into you again. 
“Not bad,” you tell him, grinning when he swipes his tongue over his swollen lips, his eyes lifting to peer up at you curiously. “Want me to take it up a notch?”
“No,” he replies sharply. “I like this.”
You snort at his blunt response and give him what he’s asked for. You keep the drags of your lifts slow, enjoying how he throbs and swells inside you. Each time you rise, you roll your hips and he sighs at every minor clench that your pussy does. After a time, you can’t ignore the pulsations of your impatient clit, so your fingers trail downward, delicately rolling and grinding against the bud. 
Tomura tilts his head at this and his hazy vermillion snags your attention. “Does...does that feel good?” 
For a second, you’re unsure what he means, but when his hand ghosts over yours, you realize. “Mmhm,” you gasp, giving yourself a quicker tweak, delighting in the widening of his eyes when your cunt flushes another wave of arousal around him. It slicks between your thighs and pools around his pelvis, gleaming against the dark curls that rest there. 
“Lemme try,” he demands, batting your hand away and replacing your fingers with his own. He’s clumsy and he’s not expecting it to be that slippery, but he’s a quick study and he watches your face expectantly each time he tries something different. 
“Y-you’re doing so good, Tomura,” you praise, lingering on his name, pleased that he reacts so positively to it. “Just a little bit...oh fuck...yeah, right there is perfect.”
You’re not being facetious either, he’s honestly killing you with those earnest looks and careful prods. Each time you gasp, he presses just a fraction more, testing out his new skills and expanding on them. As a reward, you keep the positive reinforcement coming, calling out his name as you fuck him into you, loving how he keeps pulsating and groaning each time you sink down. 
A thin misting of sweat is beading over both of you, but you ignore the heat, too close to care that you’re starting to falter a bit in your rhythm. Tomura is panting also, losing some of that focus as he races toward his own release.
“Harder, ride me fucking harder, (Y/N),” he commands. The sight of him gasping and groaning out your name gives you an idea. You acquiesce to his demand but as you start those quick pumps your fingers reach behind you, searching for something that you think he’ll like even more. 
Ah-ha!
It’s an older pair, not as frilly as the one’s you’d saved for him, but you’ve been wearing them all day, so that scent he was complaining about should be nice and ripe. His eyes have winced shut, so the flop of your lace panties startles him. He tenses for a second, but once he notices what you’ve given him a wicked smirk curls his lips. Instantly, his hand leaves your clit and he presses the fabric to his face, huffing heavily against the crotch. 
“You fucking tease,” he groans, his tongue tracing along the seams, lapping at the thin residue that you’ve undoubtedly left behind. “Ahhh, yes. I think I would have rather had you sit on my face, but this will work, for now.” 
The threat in his voice makes you shiver and you rock forward as you lower, snagging the sharp edge of his pelvis against your clit. Tomura takes in another deep breath at the sensation, his hand still holding your saliva filled panties to his lips. Just a little bit more. Your fingers tweak and pull, rolling the way you need. The heavy sting of Tomura’s cock is helping too and your pussy greedily begins to tighten around him, earning you a sputtered groan from the man beneath you.
“D-do that again,” he sighs, shifting your panties down his face so he can watch you. Obediently, you flick at your clit again and that stimulation, plus the heady knowledge that Tomura is watching, memorizing every move you make, hurtles you over the edge and you can’t help but slump forward as your orgasm crashes over you. Tomura lets out a guttural moan, flinging your panties away and yanking you to his parted lips. His kiss is frantic, nonsensical, more bites and slurps than any kind of caress, but you fall into his arms, overwrought and too turned on to think. 
Once he’s had his fill of your lips, he resumes that steady pounding, his powerful hips canting into you, peppering you with jagged thrusts that leave you gasping. 
“What’s the matter?” he taunts, his voice a wild rasp in your ear. “Can’t take anymore? Am I too much for you?” 
You don’t trust yourself to reply, already seconds away from another shuddering release. All it takes is the feeling of him swelling and the heat of his cum to reduce you to a gasping mess again. This time, a thin line of drool escapes your lips. Delighted, Tomura snags his hand in your hair, tugging until you’re hovering over him. Gluttonously, he laps at your lips, sucking until you’re not sure who’s making the bigger slob of themselves. 
When he’s finished, he rolls you off of him, splaying you out on the bed. As the world falls back into focus, you catch sight of him, leering over you, his white hair cascading around the two of you. 
“I don’t think I’m done yet,” he grins, one hand cupping under your jaw. “Besides, you could have given me this weeks ago. I think you owe me a few back payments. Don’t cha’ think?”
notes: ahaha. this is basically a full fledged fic. whoops. 
did i have anyone wondering if i was gonna pick Tomura or Dabi?                                        
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starryeyedweeb · 4 years ago
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Valentine’s Day with BNHA
A/N: I know it’s late for Valentine’s Day, but this is about the fifth time I’ve tried posting this because every other time it never got a single note even though all of my other stuff does pretty well??? So not to be that person, but if you see this I’m begging you to give it some love because it’s one of my favorites!
*DISCLAIMER*: As I’m over eighteen, I write all underaged characters aged up to be eighteen or older.
Contains: As always, sickly-sweet fluff; gender-neutral
Characters Included: Todoroki Shoto, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi/Todoroki Touya, Aizawa Shota
Valentine’s Day with...
Bakugou Katsuki
As expected, Bakugou thinks that Valentine’s Day is kind of ridiculous and isn’t too keen on celebrating
When his friends ask him what he’s planned for the holiday, it results in a bit of a rant
“Valentine’s is a shitty holiday for shitty partners to try and make up for being shitty. I take them on dates and spoil them all the time, so why should I make a big deal about a random day in February?”
But because he wasn’t a shitty partner, he knows he has to do something for you
“Oi, do you want to go hiking?” he asks shortly on Valentine’s morning, already dressed for the occasion. “We can go to that spot you’ve wanted see for a while.”
You agree- eagerly.
You honestly weren’t the biggest fan of hiking until you started dating Bakugou, who’s obsessed with it
It’s like meditation to him- one of the best ways for him to find a calm and clear mindset- and the two of you always have your best conversations when you’re out on a hike
Plus he looks amazing in his hiking clothes
The trail in question is further outside the city than most, and when you arrive, it’s pleasantly deserted
With backpacks swung over your shoulders, the two of you start down the rough path, which cuts through a thick forest
When you first started hiking, you could barely keep up with Bakugou, but you had gotten much better at it over time and are now able to comfortably keep pace with him, even holding his hand part of the time
The trail is mainly uphill, though, and periodically he will all but force a water bottle into your hands
“Get a drink. I don’t want you getting all dehydrated on me.”
When you reach the peak of the trail, which is a flat clearing overlooking the city below, Bakugou indicates for you to sit down and pulls out two bento boxes that he had packed prior to the event
Though there’s nothing heart-shaped nor unnaturally red or pink inside, the box is sweetly filled with all of your favorite bento foods
And of course, they all taste amazing
“Katsuki, this is so good!”
“I know.”
“Come on.” You playfully push his arm, feeling his muscles rippling beneath his jacket. “Seriously, though, thank you. Life has been so crazy lately, and this little break was perfect.”
“So you’re not upset we didn’t do anything more, I don’t know...” he trails off, furrowing his brow and running a hand through his hair, “...on theme?”
“Of course not. Stuff like that is for shitty partners who use a holiday as an excuse to make up for being shitty. They’ll go right back to their behavior the moment the day is over.” You interlace your fingers in his and hold his arm with your free hand. “This was perfect.”
Bakugou can’t resist a smirk and short chuckle at your sentiment, realizing exactly why he’s with you
“Hey, what’s that look for?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Kiss.”
You reach up and press your lips to his, and his arms wrap around your body, holding you close
When you pull away, you cast a glance out at the tranquil cityscape below and reluctantly check the time.
“Do you think we should head back down?” you ask.
“No. I want to stay here a little while longer.”
Todoroki Shoto
As one of the top heroes, Todoroki Shoto is a hard man to get alone, but you have high hopes for Valentine’s Day.
On the morning of February 14, the two of you check into the luxury hotel he had booked for a romantic staycation, awaiting an entire day of activities planned around the resort: lunch and dinner reservations, a couple’s massage, seeing the hotel’s nightly show...
Only for it to all be completely foiled before it even starts when Shoto gets an urgent call about a villain incident gone badly wrong, with as many heroes as possible desperately needed to help.
“Go ahead and do everything we had planned,” he urges as he’s leaving, rushing through a parting kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
But you know that it’s not going to be as simple as “I’ll be right back.”
The moment the door shuts behind him, you can’t help but turn on the TV and flip to the news, trying to find out just what Shoto had gotten himself into
The danger of the situation makes you sick with anxiety, and you have to turn it off almost immediately for the sake of your own sanity
Trying to follow his wishes, you go through the motions of the day you had planned, but instead of reaping the intended benefits of rest and relaxation, your brain is completely clouded with worry for Shoto’s safety
Which is only amplified when the hotel lobby has the news on with a crowd of people clumped together before it to see what’s going on, and the receptionist approaches you to ask if you’re alright
Dark falls with no sign of Shoto, but your heart leaps when you get the news notification that the battle is over
You turn the news back on for live coverage of the heroes that participated being interviewed about the events, but your stomach knots once again when you see no sign of Shoto
They haven’t mentioned any casualties, you wonder, but have they missed him or something?
When a knock echoes throughout the room, a cold feeling of dread washes over your body
You freeze and merely stare at the door, sure you’re about to receive the news that’s the worst nightmare of any partner of a hero
Until the door opens, and reveals Shoto holding a bouquet the size of his torso, looking a bit battered but otherwise alright
You launch yourself across the room, and he drops the flowers to engulf you in his arms
“God, Shoto,” you sob. “No matter how long I’ve been with you, waiting and worrying never gets any easier.”
“I know, I know,” he murmurs back, stroking your hair. “But I’m here now. I’m fine. I ran here the moment I could get away.”
When you finally allow him to pull away, he hands you the flowers, and you call room service for a vase and a first-aid kit
You sit Shoto on the bed and tend to his minor wounds, then order some of your favorite comfort foods for a very late dinner
Shoto is never one to discuss his missions right after the fact, so instead you just talk about nonsense things, like the most recent episode of your favorite show to watch together, and where the two of you wanted to go on your next vacation
Afterward, the two of you lay in the dark, so tangled together that it’s nearly impossible to tell who’s whom
Neither of you are tired at all, realizing fully that the privilege of getting to hold each other like you are was almost taken away that day
You feel your eyes start to well up at just how much you love the man next to you, realizing how much you need him
Shoto seems to sense that you’re going to a dark place, so he traces his fingers lightly against your cheek and breaks the silence.
“I forgot to tell you. I extended our stay here so we can still celebrate like we were planning to. I’m sorry I had to go today.”
“Shoto, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cup his cheek back, a few tears spilling out of your eyes as they meet his. “I’m just so glad you’re safe and that you’re here with me.”
Yaoyorozu Momo
Recently, an adorable little paint-your-own-pottery studio had opened on yours and Momo’s route home
You two had always meant to go for a fun date, but never really had the time, so when a Valentine’s event is announced, you both leap at the opportunity and reserve your spots right away
When Valentine’s Day arrives, you and Momo show up half an hour early for the event, wearing coordinating shades of red and pink
Laughing at your accidental matching, the two of you kill the time until the event begins by taking a million photos together
When the doors to the shop open and you’re finally allowed in, Momo’s eyes nearly pop out of her head in excitement, and you just know it’s going to become a regular date spot for the two of you
The shop is decorated like a romantic tea shop straight out of a cheesy movie, with lace doilies marking work stations, faux roses as centerpieces, and red, white, and pink balloons covering the ceiling
The special event involves painting spindly teacups with handles shaped like hearts, the workstations supplied with punch and sweets, all colored and shaped for the holiday
“Look at these!” She exclaims, picking up the ceramic cup at her workstation. “What should we paint on them?”
“Why don’t we do a matching design?” you suggest. “That way we can remember this even better.”
“Yes, let’s do that!” she agrees. “What design should we do, then?”
You two decide to keep it simple: paint the mugs solid baby pink, stamp tiny red hearts all around, and then Momo would use her elegant handwriting and paint both of your initials in calligraphy on one of the faces.
You ready your stations and sit shoulder-to-shoulder as you work, chatting and giggling the entire time, occasionally nudging each other playfully with your legs
“Could you hold the cup at this angle for me while I do the calligraphy?” she requests, which gives you an excuse to sit even closer to her, the scent of her rosy perfume engulfing you
“I wish I had handwriting like that,” you whine, watching her paint the graceful swirls of your initials, followed by the date below.
“I can teach you,” she offers, coming to stand behind you. “Here.”
She puts her hand over yours, and guides it along in the shape of the letters, her free arm looping around the front of your shoulders in a casual hug
“See? You’ve done it!”
“It still doesn’t look nearly as good as yours.”
“Well, my heart stamps don’t look nearly as good as yours. I don’t think I applied enough pressure.” She returns to her own seat, stares at you for a few moments, then giggles. “Speaking of, you’ve got paint on your face. Come here.”
You lean forward so she can wipe off the paint with a gentle touch, and she places a kiss on the now-clean spot.
“There. All better.”
When the two of you finish painting the mugs, you turn them into the counter so they can be finished in the kiln, then sit by the window of the shop to enjoy your sweets while you wait
“I’m very excited about these cups,” Momo says, reaching out for your hand. “They’ll be a lovely little keepsake.”
“Me, too,” you agree, resting your head on her shoulder. “It’ll be nice to have tea in them every evening.”
“Exactly. And if there’s ever a time when we have to be separated, whether it be for hero work or some other reason, we can bring our cups with us to remember that the other is always there, waiting to come have tea together.”
Shigaraki Tomura:
Despite his villainous ideals, in romance, Shiggy is actually quite sweet, if not a little clumsy
When you first became close to him, his unhealthy lifestyle and lack of self-care worried you, so you made a habit of cooking for Shigaraki, and leaving a week’s worth of nutritious meals in the League’s fridge for him
He had never revealed this to you, but he appreciated it so much, and wanted to return the favor
When Toga mentioned something about Valentine’s Day, he knew that it was his perfect opportunity, and made his plans by ordering everyone of the League to get out and stay out for the night
He then did some research about something good to make you, wracking his brain to try and remember what you’ve mentioned liking, until he remembers a very important fact:
He can’t cook.
At all.
Has never even once tried.
Which poses an obvious problem.
He panicked for a few moments, until he landed on a new, and possibly better, idea
When you arrive for the date, dressed comfortably (because, as much as you love Shigaraki, you know that there’s no way you’ll be going out for Valentine’s Day), you’re a little bit surprised to find him standing in the kitchen
“Shiggy?” You approach the counter warily. “What are we doing tonight?”
“I can’t cook. I want to know how.”
“You want me to teach you how to cook?”
“Yes. I want to know how to make your favorite meal.”
“Okay. That’s simple enough.” You make to join him in the kitchen, but he blocks your path.
“No. I want to make this for you. Just sit down and...tell me what to do.”
That proves to be quite a bit more difficult, as you never truly understood just how hard it would be to explain cooking to someone that has never used more than a microwave before
The music you had put on in the background was quickly drowned out by his frustrated swears, and you can tell that there are times when he almost loses his temper, but holds it together for the sake of your Valentine’s gift
A couple of utensils do fall victim to his decay, though, and he subtly tries to sweep the remains away in embarrassment.
At one point, his poor knife technique leaves a decently sized cut on his finger, and you jump into action, running for a First-Aid kit
“I’m not a child,” he mutters as you clean the small wound, avoiding your eyes.
“I know,” you reply lightly, pressing a playful kiss to the bandage you had just secured.
As Shigaraki comes close to finishing the meal, you raid Kurogiri’s stores for your favorite bottle of wine, pouring two glasses and setting them out on the table.
“Does this look right?” Shigaraki asks once the final timer goes off, warily holding out his creation.
“You tell me,” you answer. “I’ve made this for you before. It looks the same to me.”
When the two of you sit down and portion out the meal, Shigarki neglects his own plate as he watches you take your first bite
You fight to keep your face neutral, because honestly, it’s god awful, even though you had been right there the whole time, telling him exactly what to do
But you really didn’t expect anything more from a first time-cook, and even though the flavor is completely wrong, you still enjoy it, because you can practically taste how much this prickly mass-murderer actually cares for you
And as twisted as your situation is, you wouldn’t change it for the world
“Is it good?” Shigaraki mumbles from across the table, pulling you from your thoughts.
You take a sip of your wine. “Thank you so much, Tomura. This was such a thoughtful gift. I really appreciate it.”
“I knew it. It’s shit.” He pushes his own plate away in frustration. “I just wanted to pay back a favor and I can’t even do that right.”
“Shig, what did I just say? I appreciate this so much.” You round the table to his seat, rubbing his shoulders and planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Of course your first attempt doesn’t work. But that gives us something new to do together. For tonight, we’ll order some takeout, but starting tomorrow, I’ll give you another cooking lesson, and then another, and another, and another... as many as it takes until you can make a whole meal for me by yourself. Deal?”
He meets your gaze with a puppy-dog expression, placing his palms over where your hands rested on his chest.
“Deal.”
Dabi/Todoroki Touya:
Let’s just say that Dabi isn’t one to ignore traditions.
He’s one to very openly and dramatically oppose them.
You were anxious if not a little worried to see what he was going to have planned for Valentine’s Day- but, honestly, as his partner, you’re equally as unconventional in your own ideals
And he doesn’t disappoint, coming home with tickets to a ghost tour at the most haunted spot in town.
“Do they even do these on Valentine’s Day?”
“Obviously. That’s when I got the tickets for.” He shrugs. “Apparently it’s a thing that people do.”
“Hopefully not very many people. You know how we hate crowds.”
“And hopefully it’s not overtly themed for this asinine holiday.” He takes your waist and whispers the next words in your ear. “The idea of a dark room and an invisible audience is romantic enough.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“I just made you more excited, didn’t I?”
“You’ll have to wait until the day to find out.”
When Valentine’s Day arrives, you dress for the occasion and meet Dabi at a glamorous hotel in an older part of town
Before the tour begins, the guide allows the guests to go to the bar for some drinks, and begin to tell the story of the hotel and the paranormal activity that had sparked the attraction
Dabi seems uninterested, taking in the architecture of the historic buidling and peering down random hallways
“I’m getting bored of this,” he mutters in your ear. “I’m ready to see something interesting.”
“Shh, Dabi, I’m trying to listen,” you whisper back.
He responds by pinching your ass. “So, are you in a naughty mood tonight? Noted.”
“Stop it,” you mutter, lightly pushing him away, but your flushed skin is a dead giveaway to how you truly feel about the situation.
When the tour actually starts, you and Dabi round out the end of the group as it descends into a long, dark hallway.
Eventually, you feel Dabi’s hand leave its spot around your waist, but you’re so distracted listening the tour guide tell stories at the front to even notice.
Until cold hands grab you from you behind and give you a violent shake, growling animalistically in your ear
You let out a terrified scream, but the laugh that comes after is all-too-familiar
“Dammit, Dabi!” you gasp, doubling over to your breath and quiet your heartbeat.
“Aha.” His hands trail down your sides and squeeze your waist. “Gotcha.”
You eventually reach the main event of the tour, which is an old storeroom that had been unused for years due to the intense paranormal activity
Dabi actually stood still next to you with his arm slung around your shoulders, interested for the first time that night as the guide used the ghost box and actually got answers from the spirits that occupied the room.
Though there are a few times when you have to stop him from pulling some prank to scare the other people taking the tour, trying to convince them that they’re actually in immediate danger of possession
When the event is over, however, and the guide is ushering people back down the hallway, Dabi pulls you into a closet, igniting a small flame on his palm and pressing a finger to his lips
When the noise of the crowd filing out is gone, he presses forward forcefully and starts to bury you in deep, passionate kisses
“Wait, wait.” You pull back once you realize what his idea is. “Isn’t this a little...scary?”
“Isn’t that what makes it fun?”
Aizawa Shota
Valentine’s Day happened to fall around one of Aizawa’s busiest times at UA, and he was so tied up and tired that you had barely seen one another lately.
So, when he remembers what’s coming up and drowsily asks you what you want to do for Valentine’s Day, you surprise him.
“I’ve already made plans for us,” you reveal, handing him a printed itinerary. “I booked us a spot at a day spa. Those are all the treatments we’ll be doing.”
“Why’d you choose this? I’m curious.”
“You need some time to relax, and I want to spend time with you when your mind is on something other than which one of your students is going to get broken next.”
“Fair enough.”
On the morning of, the two of you check into the spa, and are instructed to go change into the fluffy bathrobes they provided
“Do I really have to put this on?” he complains, holding it as one might hold a dirty diaper.
“What’s wrong with it?” you ask, already changed into yours.
“I don’t know how I feel about my chest being out on display like this.”
“Well, I’ll like it.” You snake your hand up his shirt and rake your nails down his skin. “C’mon. We’re going to be late for our couple’s massage.”
Once Aizawa has reluctantly changed, the two of you start off your day with massages and facials
You had arranged for him to get a special eye treatment, and the small sounds of relief from his table reveals that your gift is very much appreciated.
“Are you relaxed?” you inquire as you move on from the massage room to your next destination.
“More relaxed I’ve been since I stepped through the doors of UA for the first time.”
“Well, are you relaxed enough to get a hair treatment?”
“Honestly? Bring it on.”
When Aizawa is laying back in a chair, a towel wrapped around his head and a styling cape draped over his robe, you can’t help but snap photos of the slightly comical scene
“Are you taking pictures?” he grumbles.
“Do you mind that I am?”
“Just as long as my students never see it.”
“Noted,” you reply, adding the photo to an album of embarrassing pictures you planned to show them at the end of the term.
After finishing the hair treatment- Aizawa’s hair looking better than you could ever dream yours would- and moving on to a high-tech infrared light treatment, you finished out the day with a soak in the spa’s top-rate onsen, reserved for just the two of you
You sit in comfortable silence in the hot water, bodies pressed close to each other
Shota’s arm was draped around your shoulder, and you loosely held the hand that fell across your body
When you lay your ear on his chest, you notice that his heartbeat is the calmest you’ve ever heard it
“So, did the spa serve its purpose?” you ask, tilting your head up to gaze at him.
“It did. Though I think it was less the spa’s doing, and more the fact that I spent an entire day with you.”
You hum happily, reaching up and tapping his chin. “Nice and well rested now, are you? You sure look pretty.”
He chuckles lightly, running a hand through your hair. “So do you.”
“Well, there’s still about an hour left until our dinner reservation,” you observe, noticing the clock on the wall. “Is there anything you want to do to kill the time before then?”
“We’re both sitting in hot water, naked,” he replies matter-of-factly. “The answer should be obvious.”
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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago
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Don’t Tell Shigaraki
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TW: Menstrual Cycle, Blood, Cramps
A/N: Cramps suck and this is a lot of shameful cuddling and whatnot because I want a hug when I’m dying.
The dreaded time of the month is here and you’re currently dying. The cramps are painful and almost make you feel sick, but the thought of having to get up and find a toilet is tiresome so you beg your body to just relax for a second. The heating pad that you bought is cranked to the max and it still isn’t doing anything to help numb the pain. You really have no idea what else to do and the small stash of chocolate you have hidden is tempting but again, the thought of movement is much too painful. So you lay in bed and press the heating pad into your stomach hoping that something good will come out of it while you grind your teeth.
You could call Tomura but he isn’t exactly the most comforting person around and you doubt he knows how to even make you feel a bit better. You don’t even know how to feel better. You tried going to sleep but the pain is too unbearable to even focus on anything else. You could try to do yoga but then that would involve moving and right you’ve found a sweet spot where the pain is at least an eight out of ten.
No. You’re fine. You’ve had cramps before and you’ve survived them, all you have to do is go find pain killers and hope you don’t faint. You let out a breath, “Okay, on the count of three I get up,” you whisper to yourself, fisting the blanket in your hands. “One,” you flex your feet, “two,” you take a deep breath, “and three.” You’re still lying in bed. “Okay, so that was a failed attempt. One more time.” You count down and on three you rise from the bed and clutch your lower belly. “Okay, good job,” you say in a pained whisper.
The trek to the kitchen is a long and painful road where you have to lean against the wall and stop for a few seconds so you can just breathe. You don’t pass anyone on the way there, you hand cradling your lower belly makes you feel all too vulnerable. But that’s the thing, you are vulnerable right now. You’re in too much pain and you want to be sick and if you stand for any longer, you’re sure to see black spots in the corner of your vision. You don’t know why it’s so painful right now. Why everything feels too sore, like you’ve just ran a marathon and now your joints and muscles are begging for rest even if that’s just all you’ve been doing the past hours.
You slump into a kitchen chair, letting out a whine at the harsh surface of the chair. The pills are here somewhere, in a cabinet perhaps, maybe it was the bathroom. You groan and bury your face into your arms. You can’t get up again. Everything hurts too much and you can’t force yourself to get up again. You don’t know how long you’re slumped over for. Could be a minute, could be ten, and you didn’t bring your phone to help distract you. This was supposed to be a simple mission and here you are close to tears because your cramps haven’t dulled even a fraction.
“You look pathetic,” a voice drones out.
You look up, your eyes the only thing in view as you’re met with the icy gaze of Dabi who holds an unlit cigarette in his mouth. You roll your eyes and fit back another wave of nausea. “Don’t smoke in here. Go outside or something.”
He holds you gaze and hooks his foot around the leg of a chair, pulling it out and resting on the edge of it, the cigarette still hanging limply from his lips. “What’s wrong?”
You raise a brow. “You care?”
He shrugs, his expression bored but eyes never leaving yours. “If your little boyfriend finds out your sad, he’ll blow a fuse. And I’m not really in the mood to hear him scream,” he sighs, “so what’s up?”
You glower at him in suspicion and ultimately shrug and lean on the back of the chair, your hand coming back to cradle your lower belly. “Cramps.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Sucks to be you.” When you shoot him a look he chuckles and raises his hands in defense. Long, thin fingers wrap around the cigarette and he places it on the table. “You take any pain killers?”
You shake your head in response. Your tongue coming out to wet your lips, you speak, “Sat down before I could look.” Dabi throws his had forward and rises slowly, pulling on the handle of the cabinet harshly and shuffling around the items inside. “Don’t make a mess,” you tell him halfheartedly.
“Shut up,” he mutters. “Let me find the damn pills and then you can whine.”
Dabi isn’t all that bad. He’s rough around the edges but he really does care even if he acts like he doesn’t. He’ll help out in a pinch and god he’s insufferable but he’s still a friend. “Hey Dabi,” you drum your fingers on the table and he hums in response. “You’re hot... Right?”
He straightens his neck and turns to you, a hint of mischief in his wide eyes a roguish smirk takes over. “Gotta be more specific than that doll.”
“Like body temperature.” You shift your gaze from him and turn to the table.
“Yeah, why?” The cabinet closes.
“Okay, so this is super embarrassing and if you utter a word about this to anyone, I’ll like totally end you.” You swallow your pride and look at him with a raised chin. “Do you mind if I borrow your hand? Please? When I feel better, I’ll make you you’re favorite dish. I promise!”
“Pain’s that bad?” You nod and he sighs. “Ugh. Fine. But we’re going to my room. And you’re making it tomorrow. Got it?” He holds out his hand and you grasp it, giving him a firm handshake. You rise from the chair, fingers knotting into your shirt.
“You know if he finds you in his room, he’s going to blow a fuse right,” Himiko giggles, stepping into the kitchen with a sway.
You startle. “How long have you been here?” You crane your neck to see if anyone else is behind her but you’re pulled back by Dabi.
“That’s why you’re not telling,” Dabi says, shoulders rising as an eye twitches. “Listen, you don’t tell him and I don’t know,” he waves his hand in the air, “little Cramps over here will get you something.”
“Please don’t make “Cramps” my nickname,” you mumble.
“Can I come? I can massage your hands! There’s a pressure point to take away the pain somewhere there! Come on please?” Himiko bounces in her place, with hands pressed together in a pleading motion. “Please!”
Dabi looks at you.
“You know she’ll tell him if she doesn’t come along. And it’ll be your ass on the line, not mine,” you point out.
He throws his head back. “Ugh, fine. But only you two. And don’t touch my things,” he warns, pointing a finger at the both of you.
“Whose room are we going to?” Jin asks, peeking his head into the kitchen.
“No! No one else,” Dabi snarls, hands extended in front of him.
“We’ll tell Shigaraki,” Jin says in a deeper voice.
-
You’re in Dabi’s bed that smells heavily of cologne with a light scent of burnt wood. The fan above blows cool air and Jin is busying himself by having his legs thrown on top of yours as he reads a book, clicking his tongue in certain parts before flipping over the page. Himiko is busy massaging the webbed part of your hand while she compliments your hands, telling you how pretty you’d look with red nail polish. And Dabi is grumbling while he lays in an awkward position with a hand over the small of your belly.
“Listen, what happens here, stays here,” Dabi says, with a hand holding up his phone while he watches a show about office workers.
You peer over and place your hand above his. “You know, I didn’t take you for a fan of Agg—”
“Shut it or I kick you out.”
“Oh! After this I think we should watch a movie!” Himiko says cheerfully, giving you a toothy grin.
“I wouldn’t mind. There’s been a couple things I’ve been meaning to watch. Jin, Dabi, you guys in?”
“I’d love to!” Jin salutes. “We could order in and eat all sorts of things!” A hand is placed on your knee and fingers absentmindedly begin to tap on you.
“Dabi?” You ask.
“I hate all of you,” he murmurs, clicking out of the application and moving onto another one. “Look, just don’t mention any of this shit to the others.”
The three of you look at each other and give a matching grin. You pinch your fingers together and put them to corner of your lip, and with a quick movement, you swipe your fingers across your lips and mimic tossing something over your shoulder. The other two do the same and Dabi merely rolls his eyes accompanied by a scoff.
“We can watch something on the weekend or whatever,” Dabi rumbles, bringing a pillow to bury his chin into.
“You know,” you start off, throwing an arm over your eyes, “this is actually helping a lot. The pain isn’t as bad as it was before… Thanks. A lot.” You roll your lips and the hand that is held by Himiko jerks its fingers. You feel your hand be given a reassuring squeeze in return.
There’s a mixture of words all intertwined and muddles together as they each begin to respond to you. The door is opens slowly with a creak and all of you freeze, Dabi immediately pulling his hand back and shoving it under the pillow. You raise your arm and look at the door.
“Hey, have you seen—”
All of you freeze and crimson eyes scan over the room and land on you where your hand is placed over your belly.
“Tomura, hey,” you smile at him and rise onto your elbows.
His eyes are wide for a second before they narrow. “Whatever.” The door is slammed shut and you wince. A few seconds later, you hear another door slam shut.
“He’s not happy,” you groan.
“No shit,” Jin says quietly, hand squeezing your knee.
You sigh and pull your hand away from Himiko and bend your legs, causing Jin to stand up from the bed. “I’m gonna go check on him.”
“You’re all good now?” Dabi asks, turning his head to lay flat on the pillow.
The bed creaks from under your weight as you get off. You raise your arms above your head and flex your fingers towards the ceiling of the room. You turn to look at Dabi who stares at your through half lidded eyes. “Yeah, I’m all good. Thanks again Dabi.” You ruffle his hair and smile when he pushes your hand off of him. “Thanks again Himiko and Jin. If you guys need something later, just call.” You give them finger guns and walk out of the room closing it with a soft click.
The walk back to the room is slow and heavy, you can already feeling the brooding energy that emits from the shared room. You give a gentle knock on the door, announcing that you’re coming in and you thank the heavens that the door isn’t looked.
Tomura is on the bed, with his back facing you and blankets shoved off onto the floor of the room. You click your tongue. “Tomura, I told you not to let the blankets spill onto the floor,” you bend them and toss them back on the bed, “They’ll get dirty.” The bed squeaks as you sit down and he jerks when you touch his back. “Tomura, look at me please,” you coo, letting your hand run over his back.
“Why don’t you just go back to them,” he says in a nasally voice, the volume from his phone is raised to its peak.
“Because I want to be here with you.” You prop pillows against the bed frame and lean against them, your hand moving to grasp his shoulder. “There’s no need to get jealous.”
“Not jealous,” he growls.
“Then can I have a kiss,” you offer, shifting closer to him.
“Screw you.”
“Do you want to know why I was with them?” You pause for an answer and sigh when you don’t receive one. “Well I’m going to tell you anyway. I was with them because well… I’m on my period and the cramps were super bad. And coming to you just felt embarrassing—”
“And going to them wasn’t?” He pouts, and turns to face you, still on his side.
You shrug and a noise of confusion. “It’s different. I was in a lot of pain and I don’t know. Look I’m super sorry.” You bring your knees closer to your chest before you decide to let them fall once again. “Would you have known what to do?”
He’s silent and his face scrunches. “I could have figured it out,” he mutters.
You let out a breath. “I know you could have.” You push his hair out of his face. “I’m still in a bit of pain and I think cuddles might help.” You speak gently, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger. “Do you want to do the honors?” You ask with arms opened wide.
“Only because you owe me,” he says with a hoarse voice, arms immediately wrapping around you  as he nuzzles his nose into your side, hands immediately going underneath your shirt and digging his fingers into your soft skin, the metal brace cold against your skin making you flinch to which he apologizes with a kiss.
“Seems like I owe everyone these days,” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair and bringing one of his hands to cup your lower belly, mewling at the heat he gives off.
His arms are tight around you, his hand that cusps your belly, moves his fingers softly, petting the soft part of you, while his other hands moves and shifts until he’s deemed comfortable. He coos into your side, words muffled and quiet, never reaching your ears but hum in response, feeling your eyes begin to droop. You lower yourself on the bed, ignoring his whine of protest as he looks at you through half closed eyes. When you open your arm back up, he places himself back to his spot, hand returning to your plush stomach, and drags his lips lazily against you in a kiss.
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angxlyxn · 4 years ago
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pet - dabi x f. reader
summary: Dabi is intent on showing everyone just who you belong to.
warnings: NONCON, light smut, obsessive behavior, burning/branding, captivity, talk about body weight/appearance, emotional and physical abuse, suicidal/dark thoughts
a/n: hello lovelies!  this is actually my first requested piece on this account, and was sent in by the lovely @hotwings0203 <33.  i’m sorry that it’s not some of my best work, because i wasn’t entirely sure how to approach writing for someone like Dabi, but i tried my best!  thank you so much for requesting this love, it was so fun to write and i hope you enjoy it anyways!
wc: ~2.8k
“Hey, dollface.”
You jolted up at the sound of the harsh voice, the gruffness of it scratching against your ears and causing you to cringe a bit.  
“Look at me, won’t you mousey?”  He called again.  You hesitantly shifted in your spot, turning to face Dabi with a blank expression on your face.  You made an effort to show as little emotion as possible, flattening out your features and trying not to give him an opportunity to take advantage of your natural timidity.  
“Come ‘ere,” he said simply, a bit of bile catching in your throat as he jerked his fingers towards himself, the motion reminiscent of an owner calling an unruly pet to his side.  You carefully walked up to him, each step sending a series of prickles through your toes, the soft skin on your feet feeling as though it was being punctured by a bunch of needles.  
He held a palm up just as you reached him, signaling you to stop and wait for his next command.  Like a pet.  He smirked a bit at your obedience, dropping his hand lazily onto his lap and leaning back into his chair, legs widening and posture relaxing as his cerulean eyes drank in your stilled body.  
“Hm..You’re getting too thin, angelface.”  His calloused hand shot out, grazing your stomach and pressing into your hip bone.  “You’re all skin and bone,” he said with a little too much glee.  
You couldn’t deny his remarks.  You had been here for so, so long, and taking care of you wasn’t exactly Dabi’s first priority.  The sickly way that your shoulder bones were pushing through your skin and the torn babydoll covering your body attested to that.  The nightgown that so sparsely covered you wasn’t even yours, in fact, but one that Dabi had mysteriously obtained from a house that he definitely did not burn down.  
“Come,” he said simply, resting a hand down on his lap.  It was not a suggestion, but a command.  You shamefully lowered your eyes, obediently following his directions and sitting upon his knees in a less than graceful fashion.  Your back was fully upright, form tense and rigid in the uncomfortable position.  Dabi, however, was not a fan of your reluctance, and suddenly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you backwards into his chest and grazing the top of your head with his scarred chin.  You fell into him, limp and powerless against his vice-like grip on your torso, feeling much like a ragdoll as you rested your body against his.  
A laugh bubbled out of Dabi’s lips as he held you.  “Really, look at your ribs!”  He said, snatching up the hem of the gown and pulling it up to your chest.  You flinched at the exposure, still not fully accustomed to the fact that he could do that to you, that he could do anything to you.  His hand moved down to your lower half, pressing into your hip bone uncomfortably and toying with it in a disgusting manner.  Still his fingers fell lower, gripping your inner thigh and grazing over your clothed heat, an involuntary shiver erupting across your legs as he did so.  
“Little whore,” he chuckled lightly.  He finally released your dress, letting it settle back over your legs and he pulled his other hand away from where it was laying tantalizingly upon your creamy thigh.  You let out a breath that you were holding in as he did so, glad to be free from his teasing touches.  His fingers settled in your hair, petting it lightly, although his gentle massaging provided you with little comfort.  Instead, they just felt patronizing.  
Your body jolted as he fastened his fingers on your scalp, pulling harshly on your locks and flinging your chin backwards as he tugged.  A gasp left your lips, followed by a light whimper as you moved to try and resist him, body squirming and fingers pulling against his arms pathetically.   “Now tell me,” he spoke as you struggled.  “Why aren’t I enough for you?”  You looked at him, confused, your body stilling despite his burning grip on your hair.  
“W-What?”
“I see how you act around crusty over there,” he said, nodding to the door that led out of his bedroom.  You assumed that he was talking about Shigaraki, the nickname seeming too cruel for the man, who had been at least more civil to you than Dabi ever was.  “You basically whore yourself out to him and the other guys whenever I allow you to talk to ‘em.  Fucking beggar.”
“I don’t k-know what you mea-”
“God, really?  It’s bad enough that you’re a slut, but turns out you’re stupid too,”  He said, seething.  “The way you talk to them, like you’re begging for them to fuck you.  The way you let your dress ride up on your legs when you sit near them.  I see it all, dolly.”  You cringed once more at the nickname.  You thought about his accusations, trying to look for a way out of this situation, preferably one where you don’t end up with burn marks all over your neck.  Survival instincts kicked in as you softened your body, turning your brows up slightly and pouting a bit.  You looked like a child, or maybe a lost puppy.  Exactly what Dabi liked.
“I’d never give myself to anyone b-but you,” you said, slurring your words and stuttering purposefully.  
“Mm..” Dabi hummed.  “Really pet?”  
You shook your head affirmatively, swallowing down the bile that had made its home in your throat.  He looked down upon you, his eyes gleaming contentedly, cerulean orbs penetrating the dim light of the room.  
“Prove it.”
Your eyes widened a bit, pupils dilating as a smirk stretched across his cruel face.  
“Down.”  His eyes flicked to the floor, gazing upon the cold cement that lay beneath his planted feet.  His grip on your hair released as you moved to get up, legs shaking as you lowered yourself before him, kneeling on the icy floor.  
“You know what to do now, don’t you pet?”  You gulped heavily at his words, letting your eyes drift to the sickening bulge in his pants.  Trembling hands reached out and undid his belt, your fingers fumbling awkwardly with the buckle as you did so.  
“Good.”  You watched with bated breath as he slid his pants button out of its hole and unzipped his pants.   He reached into his boxers next, freeing his cock and looking down at you expectantly.  
You reached your hands out once more, this time taking hold of his throbbing member.  Your fingers grew slick with a bit of precum, delicate digits tracing it down his shaft as you massaged it.  Dabi’s head fell back as you finally took his dick into your mouth and maneuvered yourself closer to him, just as you knew he would want.  Your tongue glided over it, caressing the veins that sat on his length as you licked up and down his cock.  He let out a sinful groan, letting his hand wander to your hair and grabbing your locks back up between his calloused digits.  
“Hnnn...Little whore, that’s right…” He murmured, looking down on you with a piercing gaze.  “Getting..close,” he said, and you took this as your sign to up your already strenuous pace.  You nursed him to his climax, cringing as he finally peaked, a moan tumbling involuntarily from your lips as he began to shake.  He emptied his load into your mouth, ribbons of white painting your throat like a canvas.  A gasp left you as he pushed you back, causing you to scrape your hands against the floor beneath you as you caught yourself, seed dribbling down your chin and falling onto the silken fabric of your nightdress.  He stared you down, catching his breath as he tucked himself back into his pants.  
“Swallow.”  The word came out breathy and depraved.  Your eyes widened a bit.  You never got used to this part, despising the taste of the salty streams that always coated your mouth after your sessions.  Cringing, you willfully gulped down and licked the area around your lips, gazing up at him with watery eyes, just as you knew he liked.  
Dabi looked down at your disheveled state, eyes roaming over your body and brows downturning in fake pity.  He reached his hand out, gliding his finger beneath your lash line and gleaning the tears that had gathered there.  “Poor little slut…” He drew his tear-coated finger from your face, lifting it to his mouth and running his tongue along the wet digit.  He rubbed his hand against his charcoal colored pants before standing up, purposefully stepping over your vulnerable form and accidentally clamping the sole of his shoe down on your locks, which were splayed across the chilled floor of the room.
You whimper in pain, the tug on your hair adding to your already aching headache.  He gazed back down at you, mockery swirling within his cruel eyes.  “I’m sorry angel, did that hurt?”  He pouted down at you.  His words were far too enunciated, making you feel like a child as you laid helplessly.  “Here, let me help you up.”  Dabi reached his arm out for you to grab, intertwining his long fingers with your quivering hand.  
He pulled up on your arm, dragging you upwards from the floor.  Just as you thought the whole ordeal was over, you felt a searing pain spread through your hand.  You tried your hardest to tug away from the man, who was now wearing a sickening grin on his face as the familiar burn of his flames licked across your palm.  “Agh!” You screamed in anguish as you writhed around.  “Stop it!  STOP!  PLEASE!” He doesn’t cease his torture, instead just looking on as the flames began to dance up your arm.  
Before you can even try to beg him again, he begins to speak, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Oh dollface, you know I can’t stop.  I got to prove to everyone that you’re my favorite little plaything.  My little doll.”  You looked at him in complete horror and began to scream, your full body convulsing at the sheer pain that he was inflicting on you.  You watched him out of the corner of your tear-brimmed eyes as his eyes widened at your thrashing form.  The pain suddenly lessened as his grip on your hand let up, but your arm was still throbbing. You were certain that it was going to scar.  
Looking down, you realized that the burn had managed to form some sort of spiral pattern around your arm, the burn marks looking almost akin to vines.   Sliding down the wall and cradling your injured arm, you sobbed to yourself, not even taking notice as Dabi left the room.  Your only focus was on your limp limb, and the horribly apparent scars that now covered it.  
Dabi shut the door behind him, clicking the lock into place and leaning against it for support.  His head was spinning, thoughts mingling and grating against the expanse of his mind. For some reason, seeing you so utterly despaired and broken after he burned you had pained him. He tried vainly to push that thought from his mind, the very notion of empathy so foreign to him that it disgusted him, that it repulsed him to his very core.  Before he knew it, his mind had wandered over to his childhood, to the many tortuous years that he had long sought to forget.  He remembered the cruel way that Enji had conducted himself around his mother, the way that he would shove her around and condescend her without a care in the world.  He shook the thoughts off quickly, pushing away the guilt that was slowly climbing through his stomach and threatening to suffocate him if he spent too much time thinking about it.  Before long, that shit eating grin he always seemed to wear returned to his face.  He thought about the marks he had given you, the expanse of charred skin that now covered your boney arms.  Now everyone knew that you belonged to him, as they should.  You were his property, and others should know not to touch what belongs to him, what is rightfully his.  And you were just this.
You jolted up from your position at the click of a door, dropping your arm which you were previously nursing.  You backed away from his looming form as he entered the room, shutting your eyes tightly and clutching your arms to close to your chest.  You felt Dabi’s presence before you as he crouched down to your level, slowly reaching out for your singed arm.  You whimper as you sensed him growing closer, your eyes quietly cracking open and falling on his larger frame.  You braced for his touch, drawing into yourself and shielding your face with your hands as he approached you, waiting for a strike or another flame against your milky skin.  All you felt, however, was a benign grasp on your burnt arm. You hissed in pain, trying desperately to pull it back, but his hold on you wasn’t letting up, not even slightly.  
“Please..let go of me.  Just.. even killing me would be more merciful than this.  Dabi, at this point...” You whimpered out pathetically, stopping short as the tears pooling in your eyes betrayed you and began to stream down your reddened cheeks, the trickles of tears a testament to how truly afraid you were.  His sudden change in demeanor had only seemed to scare you more, uncharacteristically kind eyes boring into your own.  
“You know doll, I’ve done so much to get and keep you here. Do you really think I’m going to let you go that easily?  Honestly?  I didn’t think you were that dumb.”  You cringed at his pointed words.  “Hmm.. I don’t plan on letting go of you for...however long you live, I suppose,” he finished, punctuating the threatening sentence with a chuckle.  You didn’t dare say anything else as he dropped your wrist, charred arm falling into your lap. Dabi lifts his head to meet yours, sapphire gaze piercing through you.  He kept eye contact as he grasped your singed arm, bringing your heavy hand to his mouth and pressing a few chaste kisses against your sensitive knuckles.  
You gathered your wits and courage as you averted your eyes from him.  “Why are you doing this?  You’re never..like this.”  He just stares at you, standing himself up and backing away from your form.
A few chuckles fall from his lips, the grating sound swiftly turning into full blown laughter as he wrapped his scarred arms around his chest.  “I forgot how much I loved that fearful look in your eyes.  The way you stare at me like I hold your life in my hands.  It’s so..satisfying.  But you know, I’ve still got to be nice to my doll every once in a while.  Can’t have my little toy breaking, now can I?”  You looked up at him, horrified at his condescending words.  “Now, I wish I could stay, but I’ve gotta go.”  Your eyes glistened as he began to stride away from you, calling back to you over his shoulder. “More heroes to kill and chaos to create, you know the drill.  I’ll see you later babe. Be good for me,” he smirked. And with that, he left you alone again, locking the door behind him as he paced out of the room as though nothing had even happened.
Once you were certain that he was gone, you let yourself go. Tears poured down the apples of your cheeks and you muttered out a silent prayer, hoping that someone, anyone would hear you and free you from this horrendous place.  You weeped until you tired yourself out, eventually letting yourself fall asleep.  All you hoped for as you fell into your slumber was that it would be your last rest, and that soon it would be the salvation of death that would be taking you, rather than the cold embrace of sleep.  Anything would be better than staying here another day, and if dying was what it took to leave, you didn’t care.  You just needed to get out.
You refused to be just a mouse caught in Dabi’s trap.  But deep down, you knew that might be exactly what you will remain as, for the rest of your miserable days.  An animal.  A toy.  
A pet.
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uwuwriting · 4 years ago
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Momo, Mina, Jirou and Uraraka with a soft, affectionate girlfriend
So there wasn’t only one request for my girls here, there were like five so imma just improvise with the summary here, Basically how the girls would be like with an affectionate and cute/soft girlfriend. Ya know my bi ass has had a crush on Mina since day 1 and Momo can like step on me. I haven’t written anything for our girl squad like ever and that should be a crime. Love ya. 💖💖💖
rules
masterlist
warnings: fluff 
Momo Yaoyorozu
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-Soft girl herself. 
-Although she is a straight up dom, her soft girly and flustered side comes out while you two spend time together. 
-She loves your clothes, will literally have a stroke if she sees you in a soft baby pink outfits. 
-You look extra cute and soft and fluffy and oh so kissable. 
-Your bubbly personality scares her insecurities away. 
-Like if she starts doubting herself while you’re around you mind go into killer mode and roundhouse her ass for talking bad about herself. 
-She is really impressed by your emotional switch. 
-I mean she physically sees you being all lovey dovey with her and your friends, the sweetest brightest ray of sunshine that has ever graced this earth and the moment Mineta opens his mouth to say some shit your aura changes. 
-You can almost see the darkness that surrounds you while the grape talks. 
-A savage. 
-Although you are a really feminine individual no one should dare underestimate you. 
-She becomes an extra proud girlfriend when she sees you kick some Bakugou ass because he called you a girly extra.
-Low key scared of your berserk mode but she loves you. 
-Soft dates. 
-She knows you love colorful flowers and you are generally really closely connected with nature so dates to the park or to the cherry blossoms during spring are necessary. 
-Her family loves you. 
-They welcomed you with open arms the very first time you stepped in their home as Momo’s friend. 
-Her mom could see how much her daughter liked you and she shipped it. 
-Her and Mina are your number 1 stans. 
-Expect to be spoiled to death. 
-You glance at a dress while you two are out on a date? 
-Its in your closet the very next day. 
-You bake for her and she falls even deeper in love with you. 
-She’s weak for your cakes and more often than not she will sneak some into her room. 
-Your cuddling powers are out of this world. 
-She will come to your dorm after a long day and just lose herself in your embrace. 
-She only sleeps in your room if you ask her to stay the night. 
-Despite how tired she may be she will pick herself up and drag her feet to her room. 
-All in all a wholesome relationship.
-Soft babiesss 
Mina Ashido
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-Ah yes my wife.
-I’m a freaking simp for her. 
-Crack heads.
-Periodt.
-She loves your soft girly aesthetic and even tries to copy your style so you could be matching girlfriends. 
-The pink becomes too much though so she settles for different colors. 
-You propose white and pale green. 
-She takes your advice and goes out the very same day for shopping. 
-Dragging you, Jirou, Sero and Denki along. 
-Your friend group is fed up with how clingy she could be. 
-Like legit she will hang from your arm constantly and will whine if you have to leave her behind because reasons. 
-Bakugou is this close ( -><-) to blasting her into the next dimension. 
-She is a scaredy cat and jumps at the smallest sound. 
-You take that in your advantage and take up the rule as the knight in shining armor. 
-Movie nights are usually horror nights for the two of you and you always puff up your chest in an attempt to appear tough. 
-The pink accessories kinda ruin it though. 
-She finds it funny how you talk about beating someone’s ass while you are wearing a unicorn onesie. 
-She has a matching one though so sh isn’t one to talk. 
-Just like Momo she is scarred of your berserk mode. 
-Not scarred for her life but for the rest of the class. 
-And god forbid Mineta says something about her. 
-She can see the raging flames growing around you as he continues to go on about how hot it must be to be sandwiched between you two. 
-She has to hold you back from bashing his face in. 
-Although if he pushes it too much she lets you go and mayhem ensues. 
-She really enjoys your cooking. 
-Always present when you are baking for two reasons. 
- A) to eat some of the batter because its delicious. 
- B) to tease you and make a mess.
-She tried cooking along side you once but it was a disaster. 
-Her excuse was that you were too pretty so you distracted her. 
-She used salt instead of sugar. 
- “They’re both white baby!!”
- “So is cocaine you dummy.”
- “We have cocaine?”
-Face palm. 
-She won’t leave your room if you begin to cuddle. 
-Begin is a strong word considering she won’t allow you to let her go. 
-So continue suits this situation more. 
-She doesn’t care how you two cuddle as long as she has you in her arms or vice versa. 
-Wrapping her arms around your waist while you study, placing you in her lap while she games with Sero, laying you on top of her so you can fall asleep after a long day or simply holding your hand. 
-She just wants to feel close to you. 
-The closer the better. 
-Says I love you at least three times a day.
-I want my Mina!!!!
Jirou Kyouka
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-Music girlfriends.
-She has a whole song dedicated to you. 
-She even sang it during the UA festival. 
-You are really into lofi music and really soft, fluffy songs so she makes you a playlist with her favorite lofi songs. 
-She loves when you hum along with her. 
-She knows you have a good voice but since you don’t feel comfortable singing she doesn’t push it. 
-Stands there and sways along with the rhythm.
-Swears that when you do sing you  become an angel on earth.
-Blinding brightness. 
-Finds it funny how your aesthetics collide. 
-There you are the softy pink fairy full of flowers and sunshine. 
-And next to you stands Jirou, her dark clothes making a big contrast to your baby pink skirt. 
-You adore the difference and make it your mission to dress as brightly as possible making the difference stand out even more. 
-You make her bentos like daily. 
-Really appreciates it. 
-She doesn’t have to wait for lunch. 
-Plus your cooking is wow. 
-She doesn’t really like shopping but will come with you if you want her to. 
-Any time spent with you is enough for her. 
-She spends most of her time at the guitar store lol. 
-You bought her a new guitar for her birthday and you made her cry. 
-It had her initials on it too. 
-You walk to class together every morning and go back to the dorms holding hands. 
-Says a sweet little I love you when you part ways for your training. 
-Scared for her life when you get mad. 
-That sinister smile that spreads across your face when you hear Mineta say something about her boobs is the scariest sight in the whole world. 
-Screw Shigaraki. 
-You can be the new master of evil with that smile.
-You are not violent though so she doesn’t have to hold you back... physically. 
-Your words can be true venom. 
-She has to clam you down before you make Mineta cry. 
-Could kill for your cuddles. 
-Doesn’t like to admit it but she really loves being the little spoon and would just nudge you without speaking.
-You of course get the message and hug your girl. 
-She is surprised by how strong you are. 
-You can lift her while she clinges to your front or back like she weighs nothing. 
-Walks around with Jirou wrapped around your torso like a koala. 
-She loves it, you love it everyone else finds it kinda weird when they spot you but who cares? 
-Spends the night in your dorm regularly. 
-She doesn’t even ask she just falls asleep in your bed, taking all the space and making you squeeze between the wall and her. 
-Lovely little sweethearts. 
Uraraka Ochako
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-Um you are being soft together. 
-Soft girlfriends™.
-You share clothes all the time since your aesthetics kinda match. 
-You two can be demons if provoked. 
-A third party has to intervene if someone insults you and you go into protective mode. 
-You both get that dark look in your eyes as you stare down at Mineta. 
-Really she’ll just through him up into the sky and you’ll use your quirk to send him to America. 
-Deku and Iida protect the class from you.
-In general though, when you aren’t being feral beasts sworn to protect the innocent, you are two little angels. 
-Your soft aesthetic completes her perfectly and your caring nature goes hand in hand with her mom-friend tendencies. 
-Caring girlfriends. 
-You babysit Deku together and take care of him when he starts breaking...everything. 
-She really likes training with you. 
-She finds it fun and oh so attractive when you are coming at her. 
-May have a small kink right there. 
-Power play maybe......
-Cooking.Dates!!!!!
-She likes to cook so when she found out that you are amazing in the kitchen she was hooked. 
-You might spend hours and hours just baking sweets and then passing them around the dorms. 
-Like Momo she only stays the night if you ask her or mention having a sleepover. 
-Otherwise she will gather her stuff and go back to her room. 
-Cuddles cuddles cuddles. 
-You are obsessed. 
-She is so soft to the touch and you fall asleep instantly.
-She loves it when you fall asleep on her. 
-You’re like her wittle baby. 
-Holding hands is a must wherever you are. 
-Walking to class? linked pinkies.
-Out on a date? Intertwined fingers.
-Hanging out in the common room watching a movie with the rest of the class? Linked elbows. 
-Chilling in your dorm? An arm around her shoulder. 
-Really touchy in general. 
-Not too touchy though because she respects the others around you. 
-Plus you are friends with Iida.
-He will push you apart if he sees you remotely kissing her cheek. 
-Class 1-A’s favorite couple. 
-So freaking cute omggggg.
TAG TEAM AY:
@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​
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chibikochannumberone · 4 years ago
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Sometimes medicine isn’t enough
Yandere Rei x GN reader
Not a lot: GN reader x yandere Shoto Todoroki
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Okay! I'll try me best!!! :) It's going to be a continuation of Medicine. I hope you don't mind! But if you want just Rei and Reader, just lmk and I'll do that too!
[Part One]
Tw: suicide, the reader going insane, slight mommy kink (like one mention of it), isolation, blood, knife
💊
It's been a year of spending time with the two of them. It was mainly just Rei and you. Most of the Shoto was off doing some hero missions in a different part of Japan.
She was affectionately combing through your hair, she was humming 'Twinkle twinkle little star.' You learned to relax around the two of them over time. You were really well taken care of. You always got well feed, student loans were payed off, the latest games always came to your beck and call, and Rei always made sure to take care of your...Sexual desires. But lately you've been feeling down.
"Are you okay, (y/n)?" Rei asked, she noticed how you were drifting off again. You turned to her and put on a fake smile.
"Yes, but...Can I go out just for a second?" You asked hopeful. She looked to the side awkardly and rubbed her arm. You gently touched her arm, slowly easing into a hug, and you started to nuzzle against her neck affectionately. She always liked when you did that, this was the one trick you really had against her.
"Pretty please," you took a deep breath and swallowed your pride, "mommy." You got her there, for some reason, she really liked that nickname too. She reached down towards the blanket draped across her lap. You started to beam in excitement.
"Okay, but just for a bit. Don't tell Shoto, he might get mad," She said and unshackled your leg. You got up excitedly and dragged her towards the front door. She shook her head and lead you to the backyard instead. She swiped a key in the back, and you watched as she slid it back into her breast pocket.
"Thank you!" You said and started to run and play with the grass. She watched you with a smile. You fell down to the ground with a plop. You laid on the grass and looked towards the sky.
"Is lugerdiy worth freedom?" You asked no one in particular. You notice that Rei was still watching you. You slowly meandered your way over to her. She was laying on an outside chair with an attached umbrella. You notice there was enough room for you to slid in next to her. You softly touched her hair and started to braid.
"(Y/n)? Would you like me to do your hair instead?" She asked you shook your head.
"No I want to do your hair for a change," you told her. She just nodded and turned her body to give you more room. You started by massaging her scalp, your hands moved to her shoulders. THen you trailed back up and massaged her scalp again. You notice her eyes droop a little bit. You smiled to yourself. You began to french braid her soft long white hair. After a bit she fell asleep. You watched her face for what seemed like hours, you reached over to her breast pocket and fished out the card key. You slowly stood up from the chair and began to walk to the patio door. You slid the key card in and walked inside. Releasing the breath you were holding, you ran for the front door and swung it open. You booked it down the street going for a police station that was nearby.
It all happened in a flash of seconds. A car skidded to a stop next to you and out popped a peppermint haired male. As soon as you noticed him you began to run, but after being docile for so long you were no match for the number 3 pro hero's speed and strength. He grabbed onto and started to pull you into the car. Before you even thought to scream for help, he harshly glared at you and you immediately shut up.
💊
It's been a week of being down in the basement. Shoto and Rei both refused to hurt you, which you were both grateful and ungrateful for. They would just lock you down here whenever you 'acted out.'
"At least they restocked the food down here," you said as you grabbed a bag of (favorite snack).
💊
An unknown amount of days passed and you already started to give up on eating. You climbed up the stairs and sat by the door and started to knock.
"Please let me out, please I'll be good I promise." You pleaded. You didn't care if you had to see one of them, you just needed contact. You noticed under the crack of the door a pair of pale feet, no one said anything so you just went back down the stairs.
💊
You look up at the ceiling very boredly.
"Oh look a heart, a square, and oh! A triangle I love triangles." You said while pointing out different shapes on the ceiling. You tug on your hair and curl up into a ball on your sides. You rock back and forward. You jump up slightly and start to pace back and forwards.
"Time, time, how long has it been? I want the tiimmmeee!"
The door opened and you squinted as the light flooded into the room.
"Snowflake?" Rei questioned. You noticed slight tears welled up into her eyes as she spread her arms open into a hug. You got up and embraced her very tightly. She combes her hand into your hair and hums slightly. A wet spot develops on her clothes as you weep into her shirt.
"Let's get you some food, how about a ham and cheese sandwich?" She asked. You nodded into her shirt. She lead you to a chair and started to get the ingredients out.
"Where's Shoto?" You asked. She glanced at you and began to spread the mayo on the bread.
"He just got called into a mission, Tomura Shigaraki just started to cause trouble again," She said. She placed a plate in front of you and a plate in front of herself. You both eat in silence.
"Excuse me, but I'm going to the bathroom," Rei said and left the room. You nodded to her as she left the room. You move out of your chair and head towards the sink. As you placed the plate into the sink, you noticed a knife glint from the sides. You take long strides towards the knife. The weight felt heavy but light. You turn the knife over from side to side. You bit your lip and held the knife towards your arm.
"Just a tiny cut," you said and applied some pressure. You flinched from the initial cut, but the pain soon faded. You look down the hallway and see the bathroom door is still closed. You dig the knife deeper and start to cut down from your wrist towards your elbow. Blood steeped out of the wound and rained red droplets onto the floor. You bit the inside of your cheek as you switched the knife to your non-dominant hand. The knife kissed your skin, before you roughly slid it down your arm. The cut was jagged. You heard footsteps walking calmly down the hallway. You felt tired as you slide down the cabinets. You looked up and met terrified brown eyes. You smiled slightly towards her. You felt something cold incase your arms, but it was already too late. You felt your shoulder get wet. You moved your frozen arm up and slowly pet her hair.
💊
Shoto came home to see your body was incased ice, and his mother was clutching your cold body close to her chest. Bloodstained the floor as the edges slowly dryout.
"What happened?" He asked and unfreeze your body and noticed how pale you were.
"I w-went to the bathroom a-and I-" Rei cuts herself off with her sobbing. Shoto clutches his fists as he touches the scar on his cheek. He went down towards the basement and brought up a long cooler. He Froze the sides and gently placed your body inside.
Rei looks at your face and gentle strokes it.
"My beautiful snowflake, I'm so sorry."
-💊-💊-💊-💊-💊-
I hope you liked it anon <3
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spookyceph · 4 years ago
Text
Good Graces Pt. 2
Finally got the second half of this fic together. Find it on Ao3 or the first part here on Tumblr. 
Nothing explicit takes place, however, the non-canon talk is of a sexual nature. Also, Dabi is a masochist and likes being ordered around. But we knew this already, didn’t we?
Words: 2,789
Rating: M for language and sexual themes
The wait ended two days later in the same spot. Dabi was in the process of pouring himself his second drink of the night when a misty-edged hole opened in reality behind the bar. From it stepped the tall, elegant form of Kurogiri. Dabi had never really considered what a demon might look like, but the League’s second-in-command/butler/voice of reason provided plenty of inspiration. Impeccable suit. Ability to show up anywhere. Form too immaterial to hurt, but still capable of making someone pay for trying. As always, Dabi gave him a polite nod and fought back memories of how it had felt to unexpectedly be elbow-deep in that shifting darkness.
“Ah, Dabi. Just the person I was hoping to see.” Deep. Smooth as high-end nihonshu. The kind of voice that could talk somebody into trading away their firstborn. Or into joining a half-assed villain ensemble.
Dabi paused with his glass to his lips. He made a sound he hoped came across as Yes, I’m listening rather than Help, I’ve swallowed my own tongue in mortal terror.
“Shigaraki Tomura wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”
This was it. This was not a drill. Dabi put down the glass without taking a sip. “Where?”
“He is in his room at the moment. I will open the way, if you wish to go now.”
He’d just slid off the stool when the words registered. The air behind him changed. It was like the faint static charge living things gave off and a feeling of being watched all at once. Except Dabi knew if he turned he’d see only a hazy oval of black floating there, the perfect width and length to swallow him completely.
He didn’t want to use the warp gate. No fucking way. Problem was he’d already gotten up—couldn’t sit back down without looking like a coward or a dumbass or both. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he already knew where Shigaraki’s room was to the person who amounted to the closest thing the guy had to a father.
So, Dabi grabbed his glass again. Knocked back the contents. Pretended it was just like jumping into a cold pool on a summer day as he turned and plunged into the waiting darkness.
Nothing existed anymore. Not time. Not space. Not self. Then something—maybe Kurogiri’s will or just simple momentum—carried him back into being. He returned to reality with a gasp. Catching his balance, he blinked and took stock of his new surroundings.
Shigaraki sat on his heels not a meter away, staring up through the stiff fingers of his favorite fashion statement. Large sheets of paper littered the floorboards in front of him. Maps, Dabi realized, noting the grid lines and coordinate markings. Somewhere way out in the sticks, if all the green and brown were any clue. Turning his head, he saw shelves lining the walls. Books? No, too many the same size and too thin. Cases for games—hundreds of them. More than one person could finish without giving up on everything else in life. Then again, what did he know? He’d never been allowed to have any as a kid. Never been allowed to have anything that might distract him from the glorious future planned out for him since day one. And just look at how well that had gone.
At any rate, the room didn’t seem to have the right ambiance to banish or murder someone in. Dabi let his hopes peek out from the bunker of suspicion.
“What’s this stuff for?” he asked, nodding to the maps on the ground.
Nothing from Shigaraki for an adrenaline-spiking second. Then, he crooked the fingers of one hand. “Sit.”
Dabi obeyed, pacing himself. Step in closer. Let one leg fold under him. Just bend the other so the sole of his boot lay flat on the floor. Rest same side elbow on knee. Prop the whole casual façade up with the other hand behind him.
“You got something you wanna say?” Cool nonchalance despite all the spit having vanished from inside his mouth.
Closing those intense eyes, his boss-and-possibly-more drew a long inhale. Didn’t even gag on the musty museum specimen smell of the taxidermy clutching his face. Then it was Dabi’s turn to suck in a breath as Shigaraki pulled off the gray hand with fumbling fingers, setting it aside.
“I want you to lead the others on their first job,” he said, complete with direct eye contact.
Any pretense of self-assurance abandoned Dabi. His stomach clenched as if braced for a punch. He pumped his brain for something droll, snappy, cocky in response. The well had run dry. He settled for practical.
“What do you want us to do?”
Shigaraki’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his stoic expression never wavered. “I was given some interesting information about UA’s precious fledgling heroes. Seems they’re headed to a remote training camp in the mountains for the summer. No one will be looking after them except two of their teachers and four pros who specialize in wilderness rescue missions. I want you to ruin their little retreat.”
Dabi’s spine went stiff and straight as an exclamation point. “I didn’t sign up to kill kids—even baby heroes.”
But Shigaraki was already shaking his head halfway through. “Killing them isn’t the point. That would generate too much outrage, hypocritical or no. The police might actually pry their heads from their asses and make a united effort to hunt us down with that much public pressure on them. Not to mention every third-rate pro in the country would crawl out of the woodwork, looking to make headlines. We’d be finished before we ever got started.
“No, what I have in mind is some training of our own.”
Attention swapped places with apprehension. “Oh?”
“None of us have worked together. Most of us haven’t worked on a team at all. This is an opportunity to test how well your quirks and styles compliment or clash with one another.”
“So, what? We crash their field trip and start fucking shit up? Flee the scene when the fighting gets too heated?”
“I came up with a level objective for you to focus on.” From on top of the maps, Shigaraki scooped up a thick manila folder and handed it to him.
Taking it, Dabi flipped to the first set of pages inside. His expression stayed set in stone while his stomach took a cliff dive.
A pretty girl with skin the color of bubblegum and squiggly little horns peeking out of her cotton candy hair smiled out at him from the photo in the top corner.
Name: Ashido Mina
Age: 15
Quirk: Acid
“You got hold of the students’ profiles? Impressive.” And a potential fucking disaster waiting to happen.
Shigaraki shrugged modestly, lightly scratching a new crop of scabs that had popped up in jagged furrows on both sides of his neck. Scabs that hadn’t been there a few days ago. “It’s just their teachers’ assessments of their quirks and performance during class assignments. Personal information like relatives and home addresses were better protected.”
The vice slowly closing its jaws around Dabi’s thumping heart released. Regardless, he made sure not to linger on any one student as he leafed through several of the profiles. Just focused on breathing normally and pretending to read for what seemed like a reasonable amount of time before moving to the next. He’d wait until he didn’t have an audience to allow himself to register anything.
“What’s this objective supposed to be?” he inquired.
“Capture one of the stronger, more notable students and ask him to join us.”
A muscle in his cheek jumped when Shigaraki reached over and flipped to a report in the middle of the folder. Dabi forced himself not only to look but see.
The boy scowling out of the picture was blonde. Broad-shouldered. Red-eyed, though not as beautifully as the one sitting across the way. Dabi’s pulse evened out.
“Bakugou Katsuki,” he read. “Isn’t this the kid they had to bind and gag at UA’s Sports Festival—even though he won the damn thing?”
“The same.”
“The hell do we want him for? I thought we were full capacity on lunatics already.”
A sigh. “To spook the school’s supporters and society at large, for one. It’s not enough to kill heroes. More will just take their place. We have to convince people to withdraw their support of them. Turn against them, though that won’t come until later.”
Dabi snorted. “This little asshole will never agree to sign on with us. He’s obsessed with proving he’s above everyone else. I know the type.”
A twitch of interest crossed Shigaraki’s face. Instead of pressing, though, he filed the slip away in that mysterious brain of his. “I don’t give half a shit if he agrees. All that matters is he blabs to anyone who’ll listen that we targeted and tried to corrupt him once we let him ‘escape’.”
Tapping his fingers on the stack of papers, Dabi let the big picture come into focus. “Instead of outright attacking the school, we’re undermining their image. Making all the mommies and daddies wonder if a career as a pro is as great as they thought it would be for their precious snot-nosed bastards. Getting donors to think twice before reaching for those wallets. We’re playing the long game. Smart.” A thin smile tugged at one end of Dabi’s mouth. “Which leaves just one question. Why have me lead instead of yourself? People might accuse me of sleeping my way to the top.”
A lovely shade of pink, like the inner coating of a seashell, livened up Shigaraki’s cheeks. “We never—!” He huffed and turned away, pink deepening to rose and spreading to the tops of his ears when he noticed Dabi’s smile had widened to a grin. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”
“Guilty. Well, on the last part anyway.”
Shigaraki continued to fume, hopes of an answer dwindling with each second of silence. Then, just when an apology was in the works, “Because I’m a shitty leader.”
Dabi exchanged his smile for arched eyebrows. “”And you think I’d make a better one?”
“You take initiative when you need to, and show restraint when you should. You’re able to read people without giving away much of anything about yourself. The others respect you. They like you. Anyway, from a purely tactical standpoint, since your quirk is long range you can attack and give orders without getting swept up in the melee. And…” Blood-soaked irises looked at him through a tangled curtain of white hair for a moment before flitting back to the safety of the maps. “I trust you.”
Every response Dabi had lined up crumbled. With them gone, he couldn’t pretend not to notice what they’d been hiding. Exposed to proper light and air, it bloomed, bright and bold despite the ruin it grew from.
“I won’t fail.” The words were hoarse, but came out easily enough for a promise he’d swore to make to no one except himself ever again.
“I know you won’t. Because this isn’t about winning or losing. I want you and the others to test yourselves as individuals and as a team. Do your best. Find what works. What doesn’t. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Together.”
He’d joined the League of Villains looking for a means to exact revenge. Being told what he’d always wanted to hear made for a hell of a bonus prize.
Dabi pounced. His mouth mashed into Shigaraki’s, muffling an astonished yelp. Cold hands latched onto the front of his shirt. Not Decaying. Not shoving. Clinging. Insisting. He obliged, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist and shoulders, then letting his weight carry them both to the floor. They rolled across the maps, scattering stolen papers as they went. Lips and teeth and tongue combined in different ways between every panting break for air.
Winding up sprawled on top, Dabi relocated his kisses to Shigaraki’s neck. The whimper that came out of him when just a bit of suction was applied under the corner of his jaw went directly to Dabi’s dick. Shigaraki writhed, supple and strong, yet unsure and overwhelmed. His fingers—three on each hand—clutched hard enough to hurt through a carapace of scar tissue. The scabs crosshatching his neck scraped the tongue and tasted of rust.
He surpassed any fantasy conjured up in the past few weeks. Because he was real. Unpredictable. And, in that slice of time at least, he was Dabi’s.
Shigaraki gasped and arched at the feel of a hand slipping up under his shirt. Dabi became so absorbed in the smooth, cool texture of the skin beneath his fingertips he didn’t think anything of the arm that snaked around his own, or the heel hooked behind his knee until, with a sharp twist of hip, he was rolled. The air rushed out of him in a huff as he hit the floor. Shigaraki didn’t look it, but he was solid, planting himself on Dabi’s chest and pinning both his wrists above his head.
“No,” he said, decisive if out of breath. “We do this my way.”
Dabi kept perfectly still. One wriggle, one shift, and he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there. So, he relaxed one muscle group at a time. Controlled his breathing. Showed his boss what a good boy he could be.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, already positive he’d like the answer.
Despite his command of the situation, Shigaraki’s gaze wandered off to the side. Unsure. Shy. God, it was going to be fun fucking both descriptions right out of him.
“I don’t have…experience…with this, ah, subject.”
Dabi had to keep his teeth clamped together to keep from laughing. Good. He had to be good or he wouldn’t get any treats.
“So, I thought…maybe we could each make a list. Of things we like—or might like. And of stuff we don’t, or aren’t interested in. Then…pick and agree on an option. Until…until someone gets bored or just doesn’t want to anymore or…whatever.”
The habit of exceeding expectations was quickly becoming one of Dabi’s favorite things about his new boss. “Is that what you’ve been up to these past three days? Thinking about what you want to do to me?”
Shigaraki shifted his weight forward a bit, breathing definitely speeding up a notch. “Not the entire three days,” he muttered.
Dabi rested his hands on slim hips, keeping them still before they sent him over the edge. “When did you want this list?”
He considered, worrying his already cracked bottom lip with his teeth and then catching the trickle of blood with the point of his tongue in a way that made Dabi’s toes curl in his boots. “We’ll need to start meeting regularly to work on the plan anyway, so…tomorrow, at this time.”
Meaning he had already made a list and wanted to see what Dabi came up with. “Done.”
“Well.” Shigaraki cleared his throat lightly. “It’s settled then.” Carefully, he started to slide his leg over. Froze when a soft hiss escaped Dabi. A finger stroked one of the staples in his cheek before pulling back, remembering permission to do so hadn’t been agreed on yet.
“Did I hurt you? When we rolled over?”
Absolutely precious. Dabi smiled. “Not as much as I want you to.”
Red eyes blinked rapidly, wide and startled. “I’m…sorry?”
“Don’t be. Now go on. Let me up.”
Still looking a bit lost, Shigaraki did, sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs. Dabi sat upright on a long exhale. Paused to collect himself. Got to his feet when he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t ruin his last clean pair of pants doing so.
“You’re leaving?”
The note of disappointment in Shigaraki’s tone almost toppled his resolve. He looked over through lowered lashes. “I have something pressing to take care of at the moment. Unless you don’t want to wait for a list to find out what it is.”
One glance below Dabi’s belt transformed confusion into open-mouthed understanding. “Oh.” Shigaraki buried his face in his knees. “Sorry?”
“I already told you. Don’t be.” And before his willpower evaporated completely, “See you tomorrow.”
He’d made it to the door when a final thought sprung on him. Pausing with his fingers on the handle, he peered back over his shoulder. “You didn’t come up with this whole training camp plan just to score some alone time with me, did you?”
The choked sound that came from Shigaraki was answer enough. Dabi finally allowed himself to laugh as he let himself out.
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dabiapologist · 6 years ago
Text
[My Hero Academia Fanfiction]: Fever Dream, Chapter 2
Pairing: Dabihawks, hawksdabi, hotwings, spicywings
Characters: Dabi (My Hero Academia), Hawks (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko, Toga Himiko
Rated T
Word Count: 3.4k
Chapter 2/3(?)
Tags: i've always wanted to write a sick fic, Don't Judge Me, Sick Fic, Fluff, bratty dabi is my favorite dabi, chock full of cliched tropes, and im not sorry, tfw you catch feelings for your annoying villain liaison
Summary:
"Endeavor-san? Quick question."
"What is it? I'm busy right now."
"How do you know if you're sick?"
"...excuse me?"
"Like, how do you know if you're running a fever? Do you even get fevers?"
"Why?"
"Uh, um, just curious?"
On the other end, he hears Endeavor sigh in annoyance. "Of all the things, Hawks, Why would you be curious about that?"
"Well," Hawks chews his lip anxiously as he turns to look back over his shoulder, back at the sizzling bundle of blankets on his couch.
Sizzling.
Oh. That's probably not a good sign.
// Chapter 1: In Good Conscience // 
Read it on || AO3
                                                Chapter 2: Sick Day
It is way too quiet right now.
That is Hawks’ first conscious thought when he wakes up. The fact that he even managed to squirrel away a few hours of uninterrupted rest is already worrying in and of itself, though he’s not ungrateful for it. It’s been ages since he got a good night’s rest. Or any rest, for that matter.
Hawks’ eyes crack open and he bolts upright in bed, fully awake and immediately on his guard, still wearing his hero costume and even his boots. Though at the moment, he is glad for that, as the double doors that lead out to his balcony are still propped open, allowing the freezing morning air to filter in unencumbered into his bedroom.
He walks over and gently closes them, shivering when one final draft enters through the tiny slit in the door before he brings them together.
And now, with the doors closed tight and the noise of the city traffic below effectively blocked out and silenced, the silence throughout Hawks’ apartment is even more pronounced. And eerie.
Knowing who is sleeping just over in the next room, Hawks wasn’t sure what to expect come morning, but it definitely wasn’t this unnerving quiet.
“He’s probably still out cold,” Hawks jokes to himself, somewhat anxiously. Fuck. Thinking back on it, he did headbutt Dabi kind of hard. And for all of his attitude and apathy and hair-trigger pyromania, Dabi really isn’t all that hardy of a person, physically speaking.
Hawks makes a worried noise as he feels the small but painful bump on his own forehead. Crap. Hope I didn’t give him a concussion.
He quickly sheds his hero costume, still somewhat damp and vaguely weird-smelling from the heavy rains last night and changes into a long sleeved thermal shirt and sweats. He lets out a pleased sound as he feels some warmth immediately start to seep back into his frame.
“I wonder if he’s really still out,” He wonders out loud as he leaves the room, cracking a grin,“I bet I could just lay on him for a few minutes and not be cold anymore.”
He promptly shuts up, however, when he sees that the door to his guest bedroom is cracked open slightly. Last night was a blur, for sure, but Hawks is certain that he did close the door after depositing Dabi’s lifeless husk onto the bed and tossing a bunch of blankets over him. He looks down the hall, to the bathroom. The door is open and the light is off. He’s not there, either.
Hawks turns his attention back to the guest room, listening for any sign of the villain. Nothing.  
“Dabi?” He whispers into the thin crack in the door, “You up?”
His voice rises an octave. “You alive?”
No answer.  
“Yo!” He calls a bit louder, gently pushing the door open with a finger. “Dabi, are y- uh…”
Nervous quickly turns to annoyed. “...What the fresh fuck…” Hawks scoffs as he takes in the state of the room. The lamp and nightstand are both overturned on the floor, and the glass of water and medicine he had so kindly set out for Dabi are also on the floor, though thankfully at least the medicine is still capped and unopened. One of the fancy carved spires of the headboard has been somehow knocked clean off and is sitting next to his foot. How the hell Dabi even managed to do that, or why, is beyond Hawks. 
Also, and most notably, there is a giant burn spot in the middle of his very nice, very expensive guest mattress. Hawks’ eye starts to twitch. That mattress was almost a hundred and twenty-five thousand yen.
But amidst the surprisingly not on fire wreckage that was once his expertly decorated guest room, Dabi himself is nowhere to be found. And for that matter, neither is any of Hawks’ bedding.
Hawks blinks once. Twice.
“Did this motherfucker really just make off with all my blankets?”He asks himself, shaking his head, trying to wrap his brain around the idea, and failing. Unbelievable. “What a dick. This is what I get for trying to be nice. ”
He grumbles loudly, combing his fingers through his hair as he leaves the room. Well, Dabi was never one to show any type of consideration or respect for anyone, let alone any understanding of basic social etiquette. Hawks supposes he really shouldn’t be surprised, in that respect. It’s not like Dabi would suddenly become a considerate person just because he was sick.
But still. Did he really have to run off with all of Hawks’ extra sheets? Where the hell would he even put any of it?
Actually, he takes it back. He’s seen the state of Dabi’s so called apartment building. It’s basically condemned, and barely has power. Yeah, he figures, Dabi probably needs all those extra sheets way more than he does.
Feeling a headache coming on, Hawks decides to wash his hands of the whole situation. Dabi’s gone, so it’s no longer his concern. “Whatever, I tried. I guess it’s not my problem anymore, then.” He mutters to himself.  
He stops in the bathroom and goes about his morning routine, pushing all thought of the night before from his mind, instead focusing on what he’s going to busy himself with today. His days off are few and very, very, very far between, by his design mostly, and only really happen when his sidekicks gang up on him and bully him into taking a day off before he burns out.
He knows deep down that they’re right, but fuck. That doesn’t make it any less boring.
With a wide yawn, he leaves the bathroom, scratching under his shirt as he ambles towards the kitchen. “I guess I could just get some takeout, and catch up on that sh-fwwwahh!”
Thankfully, he lives alone, so there is no one around to hear the loud, undignified squawk Hawks lets out when he trips over something on the floor and falls face-first onto the carpeted floor.
God, if his sidekicks could’ve seen that.
Hawks knows he isn’t the most graceful creature in the morning, but he’s not messy either. Wondering just what the hell it was he tripped over, he sits up on his knees and looks back.
A black boot.
A very familiar black boot.
“Uh…”
Hawks rises to his feet, still staring down at it, puzzled. “He left without one of his shoes. Okay.”
Now mulling that over, unsure of whether he’s amused by it or not, Hawks continues on his way to the kitchen.
And it’s not long before he stumbles across the other boot. The other boot, plus Dabi’s overcoat and belt, seem to make a beeline across his carpet, past the kitchen into the living room.
Feeling a distinct heaviness beginning to weigh in his belly, Hawks pads curiously along the fabric trail, following the haphazardly discarded garments out into his living room. There he finds Dabi’s pants, sitting on the steps that lead down to the entertainment room.
Hawks’ eyebrows rise at that.
“He’s not wearing pants…?” Hawks asks aloud, hands on his hips. What the actual fuck is happening right now?
He never took Dabi for that kind of guy, yet here he is, staring down at Dabi’s dingy and ill-fitting pants, lying in a heap on the floor. Curiously, he toes at them, and Dabi’s box of cigarettes slides out of one of the pockets. The burner phone he uses to contact Hawks is already sitting some feet away, face down and probably cracked.
The window shades are all down, casting a somber but peaceful grey over the room, and, Hawks notices, the TV is on but both dimmed to the darkest setting and the volume is very low.
“Huh.”
He walks over and tugs on one of the shades, allowing some sunlight into the room.
“Close it,” A new, albeit familiar voice suddenly groans from somewhere behind him, nearly startling Hawks out of his own skin. Hawks could slap himself. He really needs his morning red bull, he thinks, because this is just shameful. Even with his quirk, he didn’t feel another presence in the room. He either needs an energy drink or he needs to go back to sleep for another twelve hours.
Slowly pulling the shade back down, Hawks chances a glance over his shoulder, looking in the direction of the couch. He already has a feeling he knows what he’s going to find. And sure enough, tucked in the L of the couch, with all of Hawks’ missing bedding piled on top of him in a giant nest of fabric, is Dabi. Although at the moment, the only way Hawks knows that it’s Dabi is by his voice, albeit much lower and more hoarse than normal, and by the familiar shock of black hair poking out from the bottom of the mound. The visible portion of his face is partially burrowed into one of the couch throw pillows. Hawks can just make out one bleary blue eye, glaring at him.  
“Close it,” Dabi mumbles again.
“I did.”
“Close it!”
“I di-- It is closed!” Hawks says loudly, pointedly motioning to the closed shade. But Dabi is already groaning exaggeratedly as he rolls over under his blanket pile, facing his back to Hawks and curling more into himself.
Hawks exhales loudly.
Oh, boy.
Briefly taking in the scene, if it were anyone else... it could almost be called cute. Like a little kid staying home from school, Dabi is all bundled up and watching infomercials on TV until the good stuff comes on. All he needs is a bowl of soup and a nice, nerdy set of pajamas.
There is a faint sense of nostalgia in it, too. Hawks used to do the same thing when he was small. Hell, he still does it now, as an adult, on those rare instances where the planets align perfectly and he allows himself to acknowledge that he’s feeling under the weather.
Although to be honest, he’s not exactly sure how he feels about having that in common with Dabi, of all people. They’re more alike than he is comfortable admitting; pushing through whatever is in their path, stubbornly trudging forward until they either overcome it by sheer willpower alone or they are overtaken by it. They’re a lot alike, he discovers more and more everyday, and it irks him.
Still, despite his feelings towards the other man, there is a weird sort of… something, to it, seeing a more vulnerable side of Mr. Big Bad Blue Fire, something that Hawks can’t quite put into words. But it’s intriguing; the man behind the villain, demystified somewhat. Under the scars and the smug attitude and flames, Dabi is still a human being, he supposes.
A human being that is still simpering and whining, even though the fucking shade is down.  
Risking Dabi’s temper in this unpredictable state, he walks over and clambers up onto the couch too, perching himself on the back of the couch with his wings draped neatly behind him.
He stares down at Dabi for a beat, shaking his head before saying, “You’re not looking too hot there, cupcake,” as he brings his legs up to his chest, balancing perfectly on the back of the couch.
He waits for a second. And then another, and then another. A full minute passes with no movement.
Hawks frowns.
Oof. No reaction to the ‘cupcake’. At all. Dabi hates nicknames, especially the purposely cutesy and condescending ones Hawks likes to give him when he feels like picking a fight. And right now, he is most definitely picking a fight, if only to get Dabi out of whatever sickness haze he’s in and to start acting more like himself.
Then at least Hawks would feel a little better, knowing it’s not really anything serious.
But Dabi doesn’t even move, let alone do what Hawks was fully hoping he’d do, which was jump up from the couch in a huffy ball of blue fire and expletives, challenging him to call him that again.
That’s not good.
They remain like that for a long while; Dabi lying down, possibly asleep, and Hawks staring down at him while twiddling his thumbs, wondering where the hell he goes from here.
He has a sick villain in his apartment. A sick, very dangerous, very wanted villain. A high-ranking member of the organization in which it is his mission to infiltrate and bring down from the inside.
Hawks cradles his head in hand, unpacking all of that in his mind. Yeah, there is a slight chance that, maybe, he did not think this through quite as much as he should have.
“I’m gonna go make some coffee,” He says out loud, more to himself than to Dabi, who he is sure probably didn’t even hear him. He doesn't even really like coffee, but he just needs something pointless and mechanical to focus on for a few minutes, so he can sort this ordeal out in his head.
This is fine, he thinks as he rips open the package of coffee grounds, this is okay. So far, it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna make a scene or anything. Hopefully, he’ll just lie on the couch all day in a borderline coma, and if he’s conscious by tonight, I can maybe sneak him out. Of course, I'll need to blindfold him or something, so he doesn’t know where I live… fuck. I didn’t even think of that.
Hawks freezes, mid-scoop. How the hell had that not occurred to him before? That bringing Dabi up to his apartment would mean letting the villain know where he lived, giving him and the League an extra advantage over him?
Last night he had been so focused on not leaving Dabi half-dead on the street, that he didn’t think of the consequences his little act of kindness could bring for him in the immediate future. And just now, he had been so focused on finding Dabi that he didn't realize that the other man trashing his guest room and passing out on his couch instead was actually the best possible case scenario he could have hoped for in this situation. The last thing he needs, he realizes in a cold sweat, is Dabi, whose face is extremely recognizable, wandering around his apartment building, deliriously sick and liable to cause all sorts of mayhem.  
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” He chants to himself. But what if he was up at night when I was asleep, checking out the surroundings? He continues setting the coffee maker to boil.
Hawks looks back over his shoulder, out over the island and into the living room, where the top of Dabi’s blanket mound is just barely visible.
Then again, he’s so out of it right now, and was last night, too. I mean, I can’t imagine another reason he’d trash the guest room, other than he woke up and was disoriented and freaked out.
“Nah, he couldn't have. Not in his condition.”
He barely made it to the living room, let alone outside or to the windows. Surveillance is the last thing on his mind, right now. Hawks stares at the coffee as it drip, drip, drips down into the coffee pot, condensation beginning to form on the outside from the heat. It’s weirdly calming.
Hawks sighs to himself.
Well, I guess it’s too late to worry about that now. What’s done is done. For now, I just have to figure out how to work this situation to my advantage.
Hawks ceases his mental calculating when he feels a certain vibration ripple through his smaller feathers, along with the near silent rustle of fabric along the kitchen's tiles behind him. At least this time, Dabi doesn’t surprise him. Although, he has to admit, how Dabi manages to move so quietly even while sick to point of delirium is quite impressive.
“Is it ready yet?” He hears the other man ask over his shoulder.
“You were awake?”
“Mmn. Barely.”
Hawks turns, and almost can’t believe his eyes.
Wow.
Dabi, to be blunt, looks like a straight up corpse that was freshly rolled out of a grave. His eyes are glassy and squinted somewhat, sensitive to the light in the kitchen, and his skin, the parts that aren’t scarred and unhealthy, are so pale he looks almost otherworldly. Save for his nose, which is a little pink around the nostrils. And, just like last night, he still seems unsteady on his feet; there is a noticeable side to side sway as Dabi stands there, eyes unfocused.
Still, Hawks can’t fight the smile that is creeping onto his face. When he first met Dabi, never did he imagine that one day in the near future, that same smug, lying bastard face would be in his kitchen, staring back at him while cocooned in what Hawks is sure is no less than ten different blankets and bed sheets. Currently, the entire bottom half of Dabi’s face is covered, allowing Hawks to only really see him from the nose up.
“Are you cold?”
“Yeah.”
Hawks snorts to himself as he turns back to the coffee pot, shutting it off after it chimes. “I didn’t even think you got cold.”
“When I’m sick, I do.” Dabi says, without much fanfare. Huh. It’s a little unnerving, Dabi giving straight answers, for once. He’s certainly being a lot more forthcoming than last night, that’s for sure.
Ah, the straightforwardness that comes with realization and the cessation of denial.
“Is it ready?” Dabi asks, already reaching for the coffee pot.
“Yeah, it’s rea- Hey! What the fuck are you doing, you lunatic?!”
Hawks quickly but carefully wrestles the still scalding hot coffee pot out of Dabi’s bare hands, managing to catch him just seconds before he upends the open pot over his face and into his mouth.
“I’m cold,” Dabi moans, glaring at him. Hawks glares back in disbelief.
“Okay, can I put the shit in a cup first? God!” Still holding the coffee pot tightly by the handle, Hawks shoves past Dabi to get to the cupboard and pulls out two mugs.
“This ain’t Game of Thrones, you fucking jackass,” Hawks snaps as he pours the coffee out into the mugs, “You're not a dragon. And you don't need anymore third degree burns.”
Dabi mumbles something rude but thankfully unintelligible as he lumbers closer, still keeping a tight grip on the blankets around him.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” He mutters as he bumps Hawks out of his way, “Move. I want coffee.”
He swipes one of the mugs before Hawks can even protest --that was his mug-- and does exactly what he had intended to do before: he chugs the piping hot liquid so fast he upends the mug over his face, eyes rolling shut blissfully. He doesn’t even stop to breathe.
Hawks watches the scene with saucer-wide eyes, and silently accepts the empty mug back when Dabi hands it to him some ten odd seconds later, a sated little grin on his face.
“I… stand corrected…” Hawks says in shock. Did he even feel that? Hawks has so many questions. But right now, he only settles for a few. “You good now?”
“Mm, yeah.”
“Are you still cold?”
“M’no.”
Hawks slowly raises a finger and points over to the couch. “Will you go back to sleep now?”
Dabi follows his finger. “Mm-hm,” He mumbles before he abruptly turns and ambles out of the kitchen. Hawks watches him go, not quite believing how easy of an interaction that was. Dabi and easy are two words that don’t belong in the same sentence. Ever.
He watches him go until he sees Dabi tumble face first down onto the couch. Hawks listens for a few seconds, to the rustle of sheets and blankets and Dabi’s little muttered curses as he makes himself comfortable in his blanket nest again.
When he finally settles down, Hawks lets out a loud exhale, allowing himself to take a sip of his now warm coffee.
He doesn’t like coffee all that much, but still, he already recognizes this as a rare moment of peace; one of the few, if any, he’s going to get today, so he takes advantage of it.
Halfway through the cup, he hears Dabi groaning from the living room and rolls his eyes. Rare, and so very, very brief.
He sets the cup down on the counter loudly.
What now?  
That, he realizes as he walks out the living room, is not a question he really wanted an answer to.
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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago
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A Broken Night
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Warnings: Mentions of anxiety
Word Count: 2K
A/N: Guess who just finished having an anxiety attack before and after writing this (it was me;))
You’ve seen Tomura in his highs and lows, you’ve witnessed him spliced and bleed, you’ve seen him stand tall and act aloof. You’ve witnessed him scratching at his skin as if he were covered in acid that boiled his skin, until it bled and stained his fingertips an awful color, where you bandaged him and held him, keeping your own tears in check because this was about him- you had to stay strong for him while he broke and rebuilt himself in your arms. You’ve seen throw objects- disintegrating before they even had the chance to reach halfway across the room. You’ve seen the side where he holds onto you like a scared child, clinging desperately to your back with a finger curled up even after he’s regained control of his quirk- too scared that his emotions would win over and you’d disappear from him- as he hides in your chest, your shoulder, or on the curve of your neck. You hear him sniffle and all you can offer is to hold him tight and tell him you’ll stay here, that you have him right now. He rises and looks away from you, eyes never meeting yours but the tears still linger on your skin and clothes and they fade slowly. You’ve seen him after a win, a wide grin hidden by a hand and he’s enthusiastic, bouncing on his legs like a child going to a theme park. He holds you and presses kisses all over your face in private, and you can feel his grin with every kiss. He holds you close at night and he talks about his plans, he talks about the world and in between the space of sleep and consciousness, he looks at you with soft eyes and a smile to match and when he whispers words of adoration to you, he lets his mask slip and he loves you.
You can deal with him when he has a good day. You can hold him in your arms and tell him you love him back, you can brush the hair out of his face and kiss at every scar. His bad days are harder. You never know quite what to say to him. You can’t promise him that everything will be okay because that requires you knowing that everything will work out and you can’t lie to him. So you hold him and when he sobs, and he digs the heels of palms into your back, when he has to bite your shoulder to muffle his cries, you hold back your tears and you bury yourself into him, you try to wish away his pain, to let you take half of it, even a fraction. The man who sneers at society wants to be held and coddled, wants reassurance and love just like everyone else and you can only give him reassurance that you’re still there- that you aren’t going anywhere until death do you part. His brushes his lips over your marks, mumbling an apology that can hardly be heard sometimes, but when he kisses the blooming bruises, you run your lips over his knuckles and his shoulders droop with relief. You forgive him and you always will. 
Everyone has different coping mechanisms and even if it isn’t healthy, you don’t want to push him away. You don’t want to make the fear and anxiety in his heart swallow him whole. He’s always been emotional, no matter how many times he tries to hide it, he’ll always show who he is. He wears his heart on his sleeve, he guards it but with the slightest scuff, he’s cracking and curling tighter inwards.
You enter the hideout, a skip in your steps until Twice remarks loudly when you enter that Shigaraki is “losing it and if we’re lucky, he’ll destroy another building”. You look at the others who simply turn away, hands extended outward daring you to go see for yourself. Your heart drops and you anxiety spikes and courses through your veins. You run to him rapidly, your steps slamming into the floor beneath you, cursing in your mind that you should start doing yoga again the minute your calves begin to burn and your heart races. He can’t spiral. Not now. Not when everything is falling into place. But then you enter the room and he’s spinning. 
Ash is on the floor, half broken items that start or end in ash, broken before they had a chance to fully decay. He looks at you and you your heart stops, your survival instincts are telling you to run away. His glare is enough to stop a bataillon from attacking, it’s enough for you to want to cower. But then he raps out your name and he sounds so broken. His eyes are dark and rimmed red, his mouth pulled into a pained frown and he stumbles towards you. Tears stream down and on his arm, he has bite marks, a quick glance to the pillow and you see it’s wet with saliva. His hair is disheveled and sticks up at all sides. He looks like something out of a horror movie with the environment makes him appear all that much more dangerous. He looks vulnerable and his hand twitches at his side, his eyes glossy and trembling as he stands. You shut the door and lock it with a click and you turn to him and you open your arms.
You hold him. He buries himself into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder and you hush him, rubbing circles on his back while he tries to muffle his whimpers by pressing deeper into you. His words slur and you listen, his arms are limp at his side and he’s hunched over. He shakes in your arms and his cries are quiet and broken gasps, little high pitched noises of agony escaping from him.
“Tomura,” you whisper gently, “you can hold me, love. I trust you.” You squeeze your arms tighter around him and he lets out a choked gasp and his hands are pressing into your back, sliding down to your waist, moving and tickling at your sides and then they find their place, nestled underneath your shirt on the bottom on your back. 
You rock him gently, planting your hands firmly on his side and pressing your nose into his hair. You hope he doesn't feel how your heart races. It’s a painful thing to see him like this. Someone so big and strong to just crumble away when everything piles on. You think it's a cruel joke that he’s been allowed to suffer for so long.
You take baby steps forward, cooing at him when he whines and holds you tighter. You just need to make it to the bed and it’ll be okay. You two will be okay. It’s a promise.
It’s a short trek that makes it feel as if you’ve traveled a thousand miles and it makes your already sore muscles ache and scream a bit more. You hold him up, his body slouched and legs that drag across the floor and offer no more than a shuffle. The back of his legs hit the bed and he sits. He lowers his head and his hair cascades down and hides him from the world. He shakes and his cries have died into piteous whimpers. His hands slip from your back and rest in front of him. 
You crouch and hold his wrists, sliding your fingers down the back of his hand and rests over his fingers. “Tomura,” you lower your voice when he flinches, “I need you to look at me, okay? Just a glance.” He curls deeper into himself and your lips are tugged into a frown. “Can I hold you again?” He nods.
You sit next to him, and he turns to bury himself in your shoulder. He whines and nestles himself further into your touch when your hands run down his hair. You’re careful to avoid his neck, you didn’t see if he had done anything but you wouldn’t put it past him to slip into his old habits. 
“Are you hurt?” You ask, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger.
He moves closer to you and you put your legs over his. “No. Just a few scratches but they aren’t bad.” He breaths warm air onto your skin. “I promise,” he adds.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You shush him when his muscles tense. “We don’t have to. It’s okay.”
“Can you just talk to me?”
“Praise or nonsense?”
“Just affirmation," he whispers, "please,” his voice cracks with the added word and you kiss the crown of his head.
"You're good Tomura. You're safe. I love you. Every part of you. Scars and all." You hold him tighter and he shakes his head. You can talk nonsense to him, tell him your thoughts and talk about your favorite movie until he falls asleep, but words of affirmation is where you get tongue tied. "Tomura," you mumble against the top of his hair, "I love you. I'm here right now, you're in my arms and it's going to work out." He moves closer to you and the grip around you loosens. "Whatever happened, it doesn't matter. We can work it out. You aren't alone anymore. You don't have to do anything alone. Just, for today, let me take care of things, okay?" He lets out a shaky breath and you can feel your skin dampen with burning tears. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but you have to eventually, okay? But for right now, you just stay here and calm down?" You move away from his grasp and he looks up at you with  a tired expression. "And then later we can take a shower."
He shifts out your grasp and curls into a pillow, letting his hair fall to the side and it sticks to his skin. His breathing is deep, and he stiffens when you place a hand on his back. 
Your fingers trail down his spine and move under his shirt, rubbing the skin underneath and tracing formless shapes onto him. 
"I don't know how to explain it," he croaks, voice hoarse and in a low whisper.
"I'll wait as long as I need to." You soothe over his hair and move it away from his face. 
"Can you do me a favor?" His hands curl into loose fists and he lets out a shaky breath.
"Of course, my love." Your hand slides out of his shirt and rests above. "What is it?" 
"Can you wash my hair?" A red hue spreads across his face and he shuts his eyes tight as if awaiting for ridicule.
His face softens and he relaxes into the bed when you press a kiss against his cheek, letting your lips linger on his tear stained face. “Of course. Whatever you want.” You rise from the bed and his hand reaches out towards you, fingers slipping into your palm and sliding off of your fingertips. “Let me go get you water.”
“No, just please,” he rolls over and faces you, “I just… for a bit, okay?” His tongue peeks out and wets his lips. His hand lays limp on the bed and his fingers tap against the bed.
You sigh with a gentle smile curving in your lips. “Of course,” you slowly crawl onto the bed and rest on your side, your arms opening and letting out a soft chuckle when Tomura nuzzles into your chest.
His breathing is gentle and his arms rest lightly on your hips, fingers curling around your waistband and curving upwards onto your skin and making goosebumps rise on your skin. You hold him in your arms and run your hands down his hair, letting the strands fall softly on his back and slide down onto the comforter. His leg comes in between yours and he sighs when you press your weight on him.
“We should get a weighted blanket,” you murmur into him.
“I’ll add it to the shopping list,” he whispers, his voice heavy and words slurring together.
“Get some rest Tomura,” you hold him tight in your arms and bring him closer to you, “I’ll be here.”
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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago
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Affectionate shigaraki? 🥺 pretty please, like ik he’s more likely to disrespect me and everything but like sometimes she do be wanting to be treated like his princess 🥺💗
Daw, I live for this Tomura.
IMO this takes an established relationship, someone that he’s not needing to duck from, or put on these aloof airs. He’s clumsily managed to seduce you (read: you pretty much laid all the pieces out and he snatched up that final queen i.e you).
While I don’t see him as a huge PDA guy, if he can get you alone? This man is a cuddle KING.
The PLF compound is quiet.
Tomura said he needed to talk with Garaki, that doctor of AFO’s, the one who had persuaded him to take on the challenge of taming Gigantomachia.
You are laying across the large bed in Tomura’s new room, your fingers tracing vague patterns into the sheets.
While the new accommodations were nice, you still felt uneasy about the whole arrangement. Things were moving too fast and Tomura still hadn’t fully healed.
You had tried to express your worries, but Tomura waved you off, his lips set into a thin line. ‘This is what I was meant to do. Hero society must be put down, eradicated,’ he reminded you, his voice hoarse, rasping over the words with a determination that made you shake.
He’s been gone for hours. What could they be...
You hear the door opening, the polished hinges creaking into the thick silence that surrounds you. Turning to your side, you see Tomura step into the room, shrugging his new, fur-lined jacket off of his shoulders. He’s stopped using that cane, his leg finally able to withstand his weight, but his movements are still slow, careful.
He looks pensive, his eyes dulled and distant. You curl a hand beside your head, waiting for him to speak.
He only grants you a quick look before shedding the rest of his clothes: his tie, button up white shirt and dark pants sliding off of him and onto the floor. You bite your lip when his knee presses into the bed, lifting his lean form over you.
One hand drops to your shoulder, his cool, prosthetic fingers ghosting over your skin. You lean into his touch and your arms lace around his neck, pulling him down, against you.
“What did he say?” You ask as Tomura nestles his head against your breast. He is silent for a long moment, and the only sound that reaches your ears is his ragged breathing as it sighs against your curves.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he finally utters, his tone low, almost too soft for your ears to catch.
“Are you ok-” you begin, but he silences you, pulling from your embrace and tapping his lips across yours.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he repeats, fingers tracing your neck and collarbone, “Don’t ask me anything. Just let me enjoy you tonight.” His lips continue to wander down your face, pressing gentle caresses into your skin.
He’s different, handling you with such care that it makes your heart ache. You try to question him again, but he keeps distracting you with his touch, his fingers lingering over you, dipping into your favorite spots until all you can think about is him.
👑
Thanks for the ask! ❤️❤️
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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago
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Enemies to Lovers
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A/N: I hope you like it!! 
Monoma Neito:
A villain and hero romance. The tension, the witty comebacks and the drama of it is the exciting part. It’s an exciting development as the enemy part of it starts to move into an odd friendship and to an eventual relationship.
Neito will never admit he has feelings for you. He’ll deny it and laugh as you tease him during a fight. You both have different views of the world but as you two begin to spend more time with each other- he’ll always state that he runs into you on accident- you two start to realize you have things in common that go past your “job”.
There are moments in the budding relationship where you two will sit next to each other- villain/hero costume on and just sit next to each other listening to the sounds of the street below. You sit and the silence is still, untouched and gentle, even as your hands meet and hold onto each other, never parting until your eyes begin to grow heavy and you have to take your leave.
You keep the friendship silent, never once talking about the nights before, keeping your beating heart quiet and the warm glow that fills your face quiet and unspoken. You bring snacks and he brings drinks, you throw your legs over his and pull him into a kiss, he invites you home and you spend the night watching an old movie, waking up with a stiff neck and his arms wrapped around you, his face buried into your side.
A relationship with Neito is like a river- it flows, steady and in constant motion, often disturbed by reality setting in and making itself known. You dance around each other, give him a quick peck and promise to meet him later and you rush off before you can be spotted. You protect each other- he tells you when he’s patrolling and who else is and you give him hints about the underground that will aid in his career.
It starts off with small, teasing remarks that leave him sputtering for a second to laughing loudly and calling you nothing more than a villain. However, it doesn’t hold the same malice that it once did. Disgust doesn’t linger and taint the words, it’s something softer, something almost sweet, like an affectionate nickname. Your given villain name is used on the occasion where you’re hurt- whispered harshly through gritted teeth with scared cerulean eyes staring into yours.
The teasing turns into banter, the banter to moments where you hold your hand up to rest against the side of the building catching your breath and he waits patiently, breaths tighter and forced as he tries to not show his own exhaustion. He waits for you to get back up, walks calmly towards you and offers you a hand, holding onto yours for a second too long, only to scoff and pull away at your smile, stating that he’s still a hero. He avoids looking you in the eyes and groans the minute you’re gone, holding the hand that touched yours with his other, gripping it tightly until his knuckles turn white.
You talk and you learn about him. He’s insufferable and loud, he has a wicked laugh and a nice smile when he wants to show it. He’s nice to you, respecting your boundaries and walking calmly towards you as to not alarm you when you’re resting. He catches you before you can fall, holds you by the waist and sports a coy grin. He brings you his favorite drink and eagerly waits for your response.
The first kiss is initiated by you and he calls it a dirty trick, hiding his mouth behind his hand, a bright tint dusting at his face, and his version of a payback to press his own lips against yours and let his forehead press against yours until he remembers he’s still in public.
Shigaraki Tomura:
An enemies to lovers relationship with him isn’t good. It’s filled with heartache and there are moments where it’s fun, where when you look at him, you can forget who he is for a moment and just be a person. He doesn’t have to be a villain and you don’t have to be a hero.
Tomura will reach for you with an open palm before admitting his feelings towards you. He doesn’t want to crush on some rising hero who crinkles their nose at his ideals and talks too much, the hero who startled when he tripped and immediately ran to help him.
In the beginning he tries to find reasons to hate you- he needs to find something annoying about you to stop you from invading his thoughts but as he tries, you’re all that lingers in his mind and he ends up crushing harder than before, grumbling and burying his nails into his neck.
A friendship starts when you find him curled up in an alleyway, clutching at his leg that bleeds and a thought passes that this is all over- everything that his master had planned for him is going down the drain because of a stupid knife. You’re quick to spot the pile of ash and bloody knife beside him. He’s ready for you to arrest him- the thought of dusting you doesn’t cross his mind but when you wrap a bandage around his calf, and apologize as he winces, he’s shocked. He watches you with careful eyes and when you help him rise, he keeps a finger in the air and he clutches your side.
A relationship with Tomura isn’t easy. You can’t change his mind and he can’t change yours. He keeps a careful eye on you and makes sure that whatever he does happens when you’re not working. He doesn’t want people to know for both of your sake. As he rises with power, he makes sure that villains know you’re off limits- that he has a personal grudge against you.
He meets you at your place- sneaks quietly through the door, acts as if he belongs there and when he steps inside, he does. The need for bloody knuckles and outstretched hands have been replaced with soft kisses and heads buried into the soft curve of the neck. The harsh glares turned to roll of the eyes with tired smiles, to smiling through kisses and sharing and embracing each other’s warmth.
His hood is pulled down and silvery hair spills out, soft and fluffy, spilling down his shoulders, and he walks over to the couch where you lay on your side, the television on and flashing colors against your sleeping face. He crouches down and a scarred hand reaches over and brushes against your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears and he shakes you awake.
You smile at him, your eyes no longer wide and scared like they were the first few times; now you lean into him and hold his hand with yours, pressing your lips against his palm in a gentle kiss that flutters and sends sparks across his body. You welcome him home and lead him to the bedroom, gripping tightly onto his hand and he collapses next to you, kicking off his shoes and shushing you when you complain about dirt being tracked in the house. He clicks his tongue and makes a passing comment too low to hear and you too tired to care about what it was. You stick your tongue out in response and turn to face him.
He pulls the blanket over the both of you, opens his arms and digs into the bed when you lay your head against his chest, running your hand over his abdomen in slow circles. He keeps his eyes open long after your movements have stopped. He traces the outline of your face, slides his fingers over your neck and rests them above your heartbeat. He pulls you close and promises protection to you, closes his eyes and presses his lip lightly at the crown of your head and falls into a slumber.
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