minors dni — dabi x afab!older!reader, a little hint of angst cause I love it, unprotected sex, oral & piv, smoking, reader is around compress’s and twice’s age, this is super long, started out as a virgin dabi drabble… became smth else THATS 4K WORDS. congrats to my girl amiga and comodore for being revived the other day (they really needed me to make a comeback)
Dabi’s not oblivious by any means, let alone an oblivious idiot. Girls love the bad boy type, the scarred emotionally and physically type. The type that will make them beg for more and leave them hanging, and hey if he lowers his voice a little to lure them in; shoot him. He’s at his prime, twenty-four years young and ready to die at any moment, so he takes what he wants and doesn’t look back.
At least that’s what he did before you came in the picture.
You work together most often because of quirk compatibility, and you usually kept your distance from him besides friendly chatter and jokes—a distance he encouraged with everyone at the start, constantly belittling everybody and making sure nobody gets attached to him, lest he deals with more setbacks in his scheme—until a couple weeks ago. He doesn’t even remember why it happened—he probably was being cruel on purpose just to get somebody irritated for fun. What he didn’t consider—nor can forget—was you shoving him into the wall with your forearm, getting up close and personal, and shutting his mouth with your hand. No sounds came out of your mouth as you schooled him with a look, all half-lidded and stern, and if it wasn’t for the way his back shivered, he would have challenged you some more. But as you forced your palm down more aggressively, firmly shutting down even the idea of another word escaping his mouth, he folded and raised his hands in surrender.
And you? You should have known his shit-eating grin would be stuck in your head for weeks after pulling your hand off his scarred mouth.
“I need your help with something,” you murmur to Compress once he took off his mask for the evening after his ‘grocery shopping’ trip. The humidity of spring never really graced him with patience in a mask as tight as his.
“Pardon? My help?” Atsuhiro asked in confusion, shaking out his hair and brushing through it with his fingers. “Is it stealing? Because I’m fairly certain you are more than capable—”
You don’t let him finish as you drag him behind the bar and turn your back on the rest of the room.
“I want to fuck him.”
“Wow… Big words,” he breathed out with his eyebrows raised and placed his hands on his waist. “And by him I’m assuming—”
“Don’t look, he will know!” you whispered in embarrassment and moved in front of Atsuhiro so that it wouldn’t be obvious he was looking at Dabi, who was too busy thumping his foot on the wooden parquet of the bar.
“Oh, shush! This is joyous! Festering love and desire in our company—” he begins to counter your point, smiling brightly as you continued to confide in him.
Him. Atsuhiro. You trusted and looked for him. Why him, anyway? Did you like his dramatics? Or was it the caring side that you liked?
He has been watching you from afar, whether from the sofa he curls up on or the windowsill he likes, satiating his hunger by following every line of your body with his eyes, watching how your thighs move every time you shift in place, making your relaxed muscles fold over taunt ones, or how your hands rest at your waist before they tug on your shirt so you can give your body a chance to breathe while giving him a good look of what’s underneath–god, he’s a creep, isn’t he? Watching his co-worker? Affiliate? Friend? He doesn’t even know what he even is to you. He doesn’t even know if he likes you—and that’s a terrifying thought, isn’t it?
And why would you spare him the time of day? Do you even go for guys his age? Compress would be much more your speed, wouldn’t he? You look like you’re enjoying his company way more than his erratic personality, considering the two of you have been sharing drinks behind the bar and conversing like school girls.
But what can he do besides look and dream of touching that smooth skin? Maybe you’ll also get one good look at his scarred body and come up with an excuse that young guys don’t get you off. So, pardon him if he doesn’t believe you would even spare him one look when you offer him to join you on the roof for a small smoke session. And then you offer again, and the day after that, and maybe he can believe.
Slowly, however, he begins knowing. As the days pass, and you keep seeking Dabi out, he starts realising that maybe you do want more.
On the third day you invite him, he starts piecing things together. There’s more to you than your complaints. More to you than your little attitude, mothering him and practically everyone else in the League when they don’t pick up after their shit. You were responsible, you were funny, and had you not been in the same organisation, he’d even call you caring. And all it takes is one word of yours, one little reply that kicks him to the finish line of his emotions, black and white checkered flag with the words “idiot” waving in front of his face. There is a small chance he has infected you with his shitty personality, because you weren’t supposed to reply back, let alone laugh like he was actually capable of entertaining you, or even capable of appreciating the wrinkles of your smile lines when you looked at him, bright eyes and a smile that rivals his own boiling blood in warmth.
And that’s when he knows that your smoke breaks are a little more than smoke breaks.
He knows what it means when your leg hooks over his as you sit in adjacent chairs, when his hand grazes your knee while you roll your sixth shared cigarette for the evening, talking about some shitty konbini meal you tried this week and asking him to be your lighter cause you forgot yours inside. Dabi knows that the side-eyes you give him are equal to his when he thought you were not looking. And Dabi knows that when your shirt rides up when you get up to stretch means “come over and look some more”.
And you’re not shy, he finds out. You don’t backpedal in the slightest, especially not when he’s got his hand pressed ever so slightly at your throat and is sucking on your lips like he needs the very air you breathe, inhaling it between every kiss and gasping at the feel of it. He’s finally got you pinned to his body, your chest flattening against his while his free hand grasps at your arm at his neck so you can embrace him. Having earned your attention is an accomplishment he will forever be thankful for, especially when you lock your tongue with his and press even closer like you’re needy for it, like he’s all you want and more when you whimper in his mouth.
“I don’t want to stand anymore…” you groan in his mouth while he chews on your lip, his hand having brought both your arms on his shoulders while his lips kiss the skin that was revealed once your sleeve rode up.
“Old lady needs her crutch?” he murmurs against your skin, sucking on it and tasting more of you as his hands travel to your waist, squeezing down your body and expanding to touch more of you, to feel more of you as he presses against you.
“Shut up, don’t be an asshole again,” you huff and blindly follow his lead as he guides you to step back against the fire-escape wall.
“Why not? You’ll shut my mouth and make me beg? Doesn’t sound like a bad time to me,” he huffs a laugh as his lips travel down your throat, scalding tongue and teeth trailing your carotid.
“Yeah, it didn’t look like a bad time to me either—” you moan as he bites down on your collarbone, sucking softly with a groan of his own, and in an attempt to keep yourself from making a scene, you slide your hands in his black hair, gripping it tightly. “Dabi—”
“Shush,” he whispers against your skin, trailing his hands down your hips and grabbing a handful of the back of your thighs before sliding them back up, feeling you up properly.
“Don’t shush me… I’m older than you,” you sigh and slide your knee up to his hips, tugging him closer by his belt so he can grind against you properly.
“You’re— mmh… You’re not going to let me forget that, huh?” he growls, rolling his hips up and grinding right against your heat, feeling the way your thighs seem more than happy to have him between them, shivering as he squeezes and pinches the skin to tease you.
“Only if you manage to make me forget it,” you huff with a grin and tug Dabi by his collar so you can feel the euphoria of his lips on yours again.
His blunt nails reach up to shove at your shirt, wishing he can take it off quickly without having to burn it off you, only to tear it off in similar fashion and throw it on the ground. The need and desire making his blood boil with pyro hotter than his blue flames, and as he pins your hands above your head on the wall, he thinks this must be bliss. Bliss is having you topless, with your chest out for him to kiss and mark as it quakes with every shuddering breath you take. Bliss is having your hands struggle against his hold; it’s hearing you whine and whimper against his ear while his free hand sneaks into your trousers, shoving them down so he can cup your sex and feel just how wet you are for him.
“Old woman not been with somebody for a while?” he groans, fighting the brewing desire to just fold you against the wall and make all of Kamino hear you.
“W-Who knows…” you gasp and struggle in his hold when his fingers hook around your underwear and drag it to the side, slowly trailing the very tip of his index finger up your lips and circling your nub.
“Maybe I have and you’re all that’s available—“ you whimper and bite your lips as he shoves two of his fingers inside you, sliding them in and out just to bully you for your words.
“Careful, I still got it in me to leave you hanging,” he murmured and grinned when your muscles gripped around his knuckles tightly, almost following his fingers in and out as they stretched. But weren’t you just a sight for sore eyes? Shivering around him and trying you hardest to keep your legs spread open for him while he sunk and curled his fingers in deep.
“You’re s-still… leaving me hanging,” you whisper, hissing when the movements of his fingers made your sex squelch, drooling right into his hand.
“Yeah, pretty? Want more?” he whispered and leaned down to your level, his cerulean eyes watching you intensely and memorizing every one of your reactions, whether it was your blushing cheeks or the haze in your eyes as you gasped and begged for more. God, he wanted more of you.
He feels you nod before he sees you, yet his eyes are heavy with need as he leans in. He has kissed you more than enough for today, but now that he’s up close, now that your lips taste like his, he wants to ruin you.
Dabi locks eyes with you just once, his black hair clinging to his forehead while his hand grips your wrists tightly right above your head, keeping you arched against the wall with your chest already slipping out of the confines of your bra. It takes for your eyes to meet and his fingers to curl right against the spongy spot deep inside you, making you whimper and bite your lips, for him to let go of you completely in favour of bringing his body right against yours. His hand finds your waist in a tight grip, holding you there as an anchor while he dives into your chest once more. Resisting was never his forte, anyway, so why should he hold back when you're tugging at his shirt and letting out cute little whimpers just because of his fingers. Because you're right there, clawing at his biceps and begging for more in small whispers of his name, and all he can do is sink his fingers deeper and bite down harder just to feel you clench a little tighter.
“Dabi… I won't last—” you whisper, as your thighs begin shaking, tightening up and spasming around his scarred wrist despite how deep it’s moving.
“Not yet, c’mon… Don’t you want to get to the good part?” he mumbles back, licking the bright and big purple hickey he had left on your chest before moving his lips right between your cleavage and leaving a butterfly kiss there. He knows he should keep going, should give you the time of your life against the wall with your legs spread wide for him and your back against the wall, but he doesn’t have a condom and there’s no way he will have the strength to pull out. With a heavy conscience, he slips his fingers out of you, but not without sliding them over your outer lips, spreading you open and making a juicy mess spread over you.
And all you can do is whine as he sinks to his knees, scarred lip immediately attaching to your clit, and while the texture is new, it’s anything but unpleasant. Dabi drags your underwear and trousers down long enough so he can fit between your thighs without having to get you completely naked. Even if you're on the roof with little to no prying eyes around, he still wants to monopolise the sight of you naked and sweaty, gripping at his hair and shoving him further into your cunt.
He groans at the first proper taste of you, and you can feel him slide his bottom lip over your clit experimentally, snapping his eyes up to watch you shiver and babble his name in a quiet moan. One hand holds you by the back of your thigh, pushing you further into his mouth as his tongue swirls around your clit once and then twice before rapidly flicking the nub, while the other hand messily tugs at the loops of his belt and unzips his trousers so he can finally get some relief. He hisses right against your heat once his member meets the cold air of the rooftop, and he doesn’t waste a second before pumping it in tandem with his movements on your clit.
Your lips are raw from how long you’ve been biting them, because Dabi’s ruthless. His grafted lip does anything but help as he uses it to suckle and graze your nub, the texture of it being more than enough to tempt you to grind the rest of your heat on his chin. His tongue keeps circling your hole, dipping inside periodically and making your body vibrate from his deep groans as he feels you tighten around it in need. Had you been any more coherent, you would’ve apologised for basically riding his face with this much fervour, gripping his hair with both hands and moaning just the way he likes you, but coherent was way too far from the state either one of you was in. Dabi could feel he was ready to burst at any moment now, with his rough palm making rounds on the head of his cock just to edge himself further, yet he’d be damned if he came before you tonight.
“I can’t hold it—Dabi, I can’t—” your gasps interrupt you before you can warn him, and with how tight and tense your abdomen feels, you know you’re dangerously close.
Still, he pulls away with his own gasp, his hand on your thigh moving to drag you down on his lap instead and shove your trousers and underwear completely off.
“Let me fuck you,” he growls once you stumble into his lap, your legs spread open in lotus position while Dabi supports you from your hips. He can barely resist your heat, open and glossy inviting him to sink into it and fuck you like he means it.
“Wh-What?” you ask in a daze, body almost going limp after being denied twice in a row, and while you can hardly register a thing, you recognise just how pent up he must be as his cock jolts on your pubic area.
“...Are you deaf?” he asks with a frown, looking straight at you with brows furrowed so deeply you’d have sworn he acted like a pouty little kid at times, and even that was charming about him.
“Oh, shut up,” you sigh and only then does your mind catch up to what he had said. You don’t deny him, of course, as you grab a firm hold of his shoulders and manoeuver yourself to hover over lap, giving him the go-ahead to do as he liked.
And he does. Dabi doesn’t hesitate in the slightest with pushing his hips up and guiding the head of his member down your heat, feeling the sloppy mess he had created earlier drench him completely and using it to push in in one swift move, making both of you moan.
He shouldn’t go too hard, he knows, but he can’t help the way his hips snap into you, a loud squelch being heard between you as he bottoms out, his pierced shaft dragging against your walls and massaging you deeply. From somewhere far away you feel your body being pressed in half so that his scarred arms support your bent knees, and with a low groan of struggle slipping out of his lips he looks down; messy and wet all over his dick, with your lips swallowing all of him as if you were made for this.
“Fuck… Look at you go…” he groans and thrusts in deeply just once to make you gasp, your head falling at his chest, nose grazing his staples as he drags his hips back.
“Head’s up, sweetheart. Need to see you…” Dabi instructs as he pins your body to the wall, and you have half a mind to tell him to fuck off, but how can you?
He’s big, you realise. Big and heavy and just right as he stretches you from within, rolling his hips into you in a quick tempo and hitting so deep you see stars. You can feel your hole clench around him in hopes of keeping him right there, but, fuck! He’s still young and full of energy and he’s keeping it all for you, pistoning his hips and slamming into you so hard that you know you’ll have a bruise on your back tomorrow because of the brick wall behind you. Hell, maybe even on your thighs if they keep getting redder. Each rough thrust has you squeaking, and despite how tight you’ve kept your lips, biting them as hard as you can and gripping his shoulders like a vice, each noise is encouraged out of you with how fast the head of his cock hits your cervix.
“Didn’t I say head’s up?” He growls and shoves you at a deeper angle on his lap, making you let out a loud whimper.
“S-Sorry…” you whisper, unsure of what there is to apologise for. One thing you’re sure of, however, is how your eyes roll back, how your mouth falls open for each breathy sigh you let out right when his pelvis grinds on your clit, coarse with grafted skin and taut over his bones—you’re unsure if there will ever be anything or anyone like him again. Filling you up to the brim, making sure your walls have something to remember, something to seek out tomorrow and come looking for him. Only him.
You don’t need anyone else, do you? Fuck, Dabi will make sure of it, he thinks. Not when he has you cock-drunk, pinned between him and the wall, with your legs hooked over his arms and your ass bouncing on his thighs with every rough thrust he delivers into you. He can give it to you every night, give you pleasure like this for as long as he’s alive, so long as you keep looking at him. That's all he wants from you, isn’t it?
Your head falls back when his thumb finds your clit, lightly rolling it up and down while his cock bullies your cunt, making you tighten around him as you approach the high.
“Dabi—” you moan as you attempt to warn him, only to be silenced by his rough lips kissing you deeply.
“Look at me, pretty. Keep your eyes on me.” he groans into your lips before pulling back just to marvel at you, eyes dazed and unfocused while you try to keep them on his bright blues.
“That’s it… Let me feel it, c’mon—” Dabi moans, eyes trained on you; on the way your chest bounces with each slam of his hips, the way your eyebrows wrinkle when you furrow them in concentration, the way your cheeks flush bright red when he just keeps looking at you—and once his thumb rubs down on your clit properly, he knows you’re gone as a sob quakes out of you, lips quivering as you let out a soundless scream.
“There she is”—he groans as your cunt spasms around his thick member—“Fuck!”
He can’t help it, he really can’t help it when you tighten up around him like that, head thrown back and mouth wide open in ecstasy right in front of him. Dabi can feel you gush around him, your climax frothing up and creating a creamy ring around his base, and he really thinks he’s found heaven when you keep milking him long after your orgasm is done.
“Dabi, please…” you sob, looking back at him with glossy red eyes and tears that had threatened to spill due to the effort of not making a sound, and you beg. You beg and pull on his hair and try to meet his movements. And the sweet boy that he is can’t help but give it to you.
One tug on his black hair is his undoing as you keep his head pulled back so you can watch him cum, and through the pain, he feels his member pulse before it bursts inside you, making him moan through his much denied orgasm. Dabi looks like an angel; scarred eyes with blood collecting at the seams of the grafted skin, body glistening with sweat that dripples down to his happy trail and a shirt forced half open at some point during your venture. He feels like an angel, anyway, filling you up even further than he had moments prior and forcing your poor cunt to squeeze whatever she couldn’t fit out, and through the discomfort of being filled up, you press your cheek to his shivering chest, listening to the beat of his erratic heart as he came down from his climax.
His arms shake as they let go of your legs, yet Dabi still rushes to support you with a half embrace even if his cock is still pulsing from his orgasm, too drained from the exertions of today and all lonely days prior. Dabi holds you there for a moment, leaning his forehead against the wall as you both catch your breath. He doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence. It should be your job, shouldn’t it? You had started flirting with him, inviting him to join you for a cigarette, only for you to basically invite yourself on his lap instead. Pillow talk was overrated, and too vulnerable, so he wasn’t interested one bit, thanks.
…
“...You okay?” Damn him.
“Yeah… Just need a minute…” you breathed out, arms wrapped around Dabi’s shoulders still. “You?”
He huffs as an answer. He can’t tell you that he feels like he’s on cloud nine, that he can’t wait till he gets to eat you out again just to reminisce on how you taste, that he hates whoever saw you like this before him, that he’s never seen anything as beautiful as you. He can’t say anything because he knows he will either betray his heart or his plans. So, he stays quiet. Instead, he pulls back and reaches for his discarded coat, draping it over your shoulders and practically hiding you in it. He doesn’t want to hide your body from his eyes just yet, but he has no choice. You were sweating still, and you were at the rooftop, almost entirely naked. It was a… health concern.
“Get dressed. You can use my coat to hide whatever needs cleaning up,” he murmurs gruffly and without giving you any time to think he detaches himself from you and your heat.
And suddenly, this doesn’t feel like the same man that praised you minutes prior, that kept his eyes on you as you came, that looked at you like you were everything wrong and right in his life. This was a man that was now adjusting himself back into his pants and leaving you behind to engage in the walk of shame to your clothes without so much as a second thought. To you, this was just another uncaring bastard that lacked concern after getting what he wanted.
To Touya, Dabi was like that, too. Mean and vile and uncaring. But Touya closed the fire escape door behind him with a heavy heart. Because he wanted so much more from this. He wanted to see the face you’d make if he took you to his bed, if he let you stay and wake up next to him, if he followed you around just to hear you scold him for just a moment longer.
touya x reader – suggestive content, commitment issues, hint of jealousy, and lack of communication, giving the world a little angst cause we all know this boy has none of his shit together, villain!reader, afab!reader same old song from the weeknd trilogy to all my xos that want to know that made this all real, be kind this is my first work after 6 years of not writing....
Perhaps you should have listened your gut three months ago when this whole ordeal began. Dabi was never one for routine, for stability or permanence. It started as a simple flirt after all, innocent comments that Dabi made just to get on your nerves, to test your resolve and serendipitously make your face scrunch up if he got too close to the sun. But his heart was his Achille’s Heel—he knew it since he was young. So, when his mouth got too far ahead of him and his heart leaped out of his chest to grasp at whatever little attention you were offering, he knew he was in trouble.
“Yeah? And what about girls like me?” you asked, upturned eyebrow interrogating his useless heart. Damn his big mouth for opening sometimes…
You both were at the living area of the hideout, him sitting by the window while you were tidying up alone, despite the myriad of requests you made that he would get off his ass–and off his high horse–and help you at least once.
“Like I said, you’re all the same old song. Too caught up in your little fairy-tale of rainbows and unicorns and shit,” he murmured the last part through his hand, placing it over his scarred lips in thought.
“And, let me guess—you can fix that for me?” you scoffed and turned around to face him properly, dropping the throw you had neatly folded on the sofa.
“It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it? I mean you look… available.” Dabi made a gesture with his hand, grinning like a cheshire cat as his cerulean eyes followed the line down your figure, from your face, to your hair, and down to your crossed arms framing your chest. He didn’t like you, he should remind himself. You were just an itch to be scratched, that’s all. Dabi enjoyed setting you off, making you bite with every comment he ever made whether it was true or defamation, which made sharing the space with him specifically extraordinarily difficult—especially when he got in one of these moods during missions.
“Whatever, keep dreaming,” you sighed and dismissed him with a roll of your eyes.
But he wasn’t going to have that, was he?
Dabi slid off the windowsill, leaving his discarded coat to pool on the floor due to his movement, and stalked your footsteps to the bar, cornering you against the mahogany counter. His grafted arms enclosed your hips to the small area left between him and the bar while his chin grazed your shoulder, his lips a hair’s width away from trailing your ear—one wrong move and you would press right against him.
“You can’t lie to a liar, sweetheart…” he murmured lowly, yet he kept his eyes away from you, lest his reflection on the nearby appliances gave away his desire. “You can run away, but we all know how this song and dance ends…”
Your heart was hammering in your chest. Every hair on your body was standing at attention, goose skin protruding wherever his scarred arms had incidentally touched you for a moment, and you couldn’t fathom how it’d feel to have his ruinous hands on you. His thumb and index were teasing the line of your shirt; not tugging or pulling, just simply caressing it with the pads of his fingers. One wrong move and he could burn it off you, and fuck, was that an idea…
“Getting distracted a little?” Dabi asked, grinning from ear to ear as he moved to press closer to you from behind, his lips ever closer to your jawline while his fingers now pinched the hem of your shirt and tugged ever so lightly.
“As if!” you huffed in irritation and pushed his hands off before making your escape to your room, leaving him behind at the bar he had no choice but to lean on now.
Dabi was dangerous, but you were too, weren’t you? You were capable, and strong… A little naïve, sure, but that wasn’t your fault. He could fix you. Teach you just how mean he and the world could be. All of this was child’s play, little games Dabi played just to get on your nerves and make you squirm, make you look at him and see Dabi just like the world saw him. But Touya wanted you to see more. Perhaps that naivety you held for the world, the hope that all of you were fighting for something greater than change was what irked him. Because Touya wanted that longing look in your eyes to be directed at him. Touya wanted your eyes, your fears, and your fleeting heart all his.
Dabi had acquired that, however. Three whole months of annoying you, flirting with you and tempting you, and yet he finally monopolized your attention.
“Wait–“ you gasped as he shoved you against his door, haphazardly closing it behind you after already losing his grip on the handle once. He attached his lips to yours again without wasting time to wait for your brain to catch up. How could he waste his time when he had exactly what he wanted right in front of him?
Dabi’s lips pressed against yours harshly, and with his free hand gripping your chin, he forced your mouth open so your tongues could meet, tangling with each other and meeting like waves in a tempo he set and hoped he could keep up until the night was over. He spent too long waiting, too long chasing behind you for scraps; this is the least you could do for him. He gave you his attention. Wasn’t that what women wanted?
“Dabi, wait—”
“Hell no,” he groaned and pressed his body against yours, pinning you to the door and forcing you to push lightly against his chest so that you wouldn’t be crushed under his vigor. His hand trailed down from your chin, following the line of your neck and reaching your waist eagerly, pulling you completely against him as he felt your own palm slip to his hair. His flames hurt less than your hands when they consumed him. Your gorgeous lips weren't any better for him either.
“I’m serious…” you whispered against his lips and tugged at his hair to pull him away, earning a low moan from him, but it did nothing to deter him from tempting you more.
“Aw… Princess having second thoughts? Thought you were sure of it this time.” He grinned; his chin tilted up due to the way you had gripped his hair. His words made you huff again, with your nostrils flaring in irritation, and he’d give anything to see this every day. Your lips shiny and red, eyes clouded and unfocused while your nose scrunched in frustration… A sight to behold, truly.
“I will get the hell out and leave if you don’t shut up, I’m so serious,” you growled at him, scrutinizing him with a look full of venom.
“Keep looking at me like that. It suits you.” He hummed, eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips before making another attempt to kiss you only to be tugged back by his hair. This was starting to get a little irritating...
“You are such an ass! Would it kill you to be even just a little bit vulnerable?” You demanded and pushed him further away from you despite how much you wanted to lean back in, to feel his hands back on your waist and his mouth devouring your own.
“Vulnerable? Aren’t you asking for a lot already?” he scoffed and shrugged your hands off him, your question having offended Dabi enough to shake him out of the haze of desire.
“I told you already, sweet thing. The real world doesn’t care about your little daydream.” Dabi smiled patronizingly and held your chin in his hand as if he were inspecting your face, yet his expression showed anything but. He was watching you intently, blue eyes glowing in the darkness of his room, and all you could do was freeze in their searing heat.
“And yet, you keep hoping… I mean, it’s almost pathetic, no? What’s next? You want me to get down on one knee? Save myself for marriage?” he continued, pouting as he stepped closer to you once more.
He might have overestimated you, thinking he could finally get you out of his system without needing to keep you in his bed forever. Because Dabi didn’t do forever. Dabi was a fleeting face, born to live and die as he came in this world; through fire and heat. And if he burned you in the middle of it, perhaps that was your own pigheadedness.
And that was exactly why you had kept yourself from giving in for months, because Dabi kept tempting day by day. Little by little he wormed himself in your heart just so he could force himself out when he so much as wanted to and burn what was left of your heart in the explosion. Whether it was his hands on your waist as he passed by you, guiding you to his side on instinct, or complaining whenever the League ordered sushi and giving you every little piece of fish that assaulted his sense of smell because you liked it, or sitting next to you on the sofa after ticking you off all day just to see your reactions, only to fall asleep as quickly as he angered you... Dabi was a hypocrite, and you shouldn’t have been alone with him at all. You shouldn’t have ran to him when he was missing for three whole days after a outing-gone-wrong, shouldn't have worried for a man that was a ticking bomb.
You shouldn’t be here, is what you realized, and without wasting any more time you twisted the handle of his door and fled to wherever you could, so long as it was away from Dabi.
He wasn’t going to hold it against you, he thought as he slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers, looking at the periodically moving door in front of him. He was aware that girls like you got attached, but it was of no importance. You’d be back in the end, because he knew your buttons now. He knew how you whimpered when his tongue met yours, how your body quivered when he held your waist ever so tightly. You’d be back and he’d finally get you off his mind. Dabi wouldn’t have to keep glancing at you from the corner of his eye when you laughed at Spinner, or brought Shigaraki his dinner to his room and yelled at him to pick up his things. Dabi wouldn’t have to keep looking for you instinctively whenever he came back from scouting for new members.
Dabi wouldn’t have to keep thinking you didn’t see him, because you would be able to see him for Touya; for the boy that wanted to have you but could not allow himself the chance to hold you for a minute longer, because what would you do–sweet, caring and naïve as you were–when he finally left you for good to complete his life’s purpose? Whatever would you do if you realized he knew this from the start and still begged for your attention? Still hoped you would keep your sweet eyes on him and sang the same old song for him?
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