warnings: soft & tired touya, fluff, his filthy mouth obv, fingering, f! reader, my fav lazy eater, biggest tease known to mankind, intimateee, mentions of smoking
your head felt like lead, heavy and sunk against the soft pillow of your bed. the tv was on, illuminating the dark room in a gentle glow as a show you had put on silently played in the background.
the well-used fan blew gentle gusts of cool air against your exposed skin, humming its constant song through the space. occasional sirens could be heard in the distance, muffled by the rain pattering on the windows that beat worn sills like a steady drum.
the conditions were perfect for a restful night; the type of night where you couldn’t fight the heaviness of your eyelids, the noises like a soft lullaby, flowing into your ears like water lapping a shore. limbs turned to heavy, buzzing molasses, melting into the soft blankets that provided coolness that trapped your body heat.
the man sleeping soundly beside you was in much of the same shape. the only sounds leaving him were soft breaths that couldn’t even be made out over the fan and rain. dabi laid on his back, face fully relaxed, free from the usual bored expression rendering his features, staples and ear piercings reflecting the glow from the tv. one warm and heavy arm held you loosely against his side, resting between the fabric of the shirt you stole and your bare skin.
he was warm like he always is, skin radiating heat like a never ending furnace, successfully having your body melting like a scoop of ice cream against his side. your thigh was slung over his hip, legs tangled together under the mass of messily strewn blankets covering you. dabi hated having covers above his waist, not even needing them on his long legs but never refusing them because he knew you got cold at night.
who was he to refuse your skin against his?
he never admitted these things out loud, never would. the words he couldn’t say, the words materialized into meaningless complaints combined with yielding to your every wish meant more than any useless verbalized confession. like now, where he sacrificed his hate for your favorite suffocating blanket you seemed to never sleep without just to be able to feel you tangled with him while you slept.
a roach rested in the ashtray from earlier, maybe two, giving you both the heavy sleepiness that turned your brains into mush and lowered your eyelids. you had just sluggishly opened your eyes, feeling the heavy weight soaking your limbs into the sheets. a soft sigh left your lips as your tried to blink the fuzziness from your vision.
shifting your body took more strength than it should’ve, limbs resisting as if they were stuck in jello. you searched for more of the warmth, more of the heat that consumed you as easily as dry wood caught flames—your boyfriend sleeping motionless and still beside you.
the covers rustled quietly as you scrambled slowly to rest your head on his chest, right on his collarbone so you could tuck your face into his neck, moving closer so your leg slung around his slim hips even further. your hand found its place sluggishly, almost protesting as your palm slid from the top of his abs to the place on his chest right where you felt his heart beating.
you settled there, huffing softly through your nose at how relaxed you felt against him, sleep pulling heavily at your lids as you tilted your face up to get a look at him. your movements must have jostled him awake as you felt the arm wrapped around you slowly move, dabi’s palm and fingertips smoothing over your spine in lazy movements.
his white eyebrows were furrowed now, a sleepy grumble escaping his scarred lips at how you had basically climbed on top of him, pale hair spread across the pillow beneath his head. his eyes were still closed as you gazed at him, making out the sharp line of his jaw, looking at the pale skin still remaining unscathed from the weight of his birthright, the thin eyebrows you always smoothed the edges of with your thumb.
you pouted, huffing at how he looked like this while he was half asleep—well, more than half sleep, barely conscious. his hand still traced lines up and down on your spine, moving more firmly now as if he gained enough blood flow there to move properly through the faded high and pull of sleep.
“like what you see, baby?” the gruff rasp of his voice when he woke up never failed to make you feel warmer than you did before. the lazy draw always had you at loss for words, always had you mentally throwing a bucket of ice water into your face to stay focused.
you hummed, half not wanting to give in to his constant flirting, half not being able to push past how tired you were to actually form intelligible words. the immediate dissatisfaction at your lack of words came by his hand sliding off your back to your side, staples tickling the sensitive skin there purposely to wring a reaction from you—so annoying.
he earned his prize as your immediate reaction was squirming and reaching your hand lazily to push at his face gently, grumbling at the unsuspecting touch. you lifted your head slowly off his chest, hair a mess in a way that dabi found endearing and would tease you in the morning for, your eyes barely squinting open, lips still swollen from when he wouldn’t stop biting the flesh when you made out before you both had fallen asleep.
you were met with his turquoise eyes staring at you, his lips pulled into that lazy smirk you were so accustomed to know and cherish, lids barely being open.
“too late for you to be messing with me,” you mumbled, words slurred and slightly unserious, frown embedded on your features.
“you were the one who woke me up by climbing on me,” he started, earning an exasperated groan from your lips as you dropped your head back down to his collarbone to rest your forehead there, hand coming up again to playfully push his face away again. this time the hand of his other arm caught it, placing it back down where he wanted it on his chest like the bastard he was.
“says the guy who smothers me when i’m trying to sleep,” you shoot back, voice muffled against his skin.
“you love it,” came his response, raspy and entirely serious.
“never said i didn’t, asshole,” you grumbled back, fighting the urge to smile against him.
“that why ya stare and try to get on top of me when i’m sleeping? kinda rude y’know, if you needed me, you coulda just asked b—,” you cut him off quickly with your hand coming up to rest over his smug mouth.
“shhhhhh,” you say with another groan, “please god, shut up before i suffocate you with this fucking pillow.” pulling your heavy head to barely tilt up so you were looking at him again, you smiled sleepily before removing your hand. your low eyes met his, intensely staring at his still smirking face and hearing the laugh coming from his lips, his hand still smoothing those addicting patterns into your back.
dabi suddenly shifted, pulling his arm from around you, body moving so slow you slid with him. you were now facing him, both of you resting on your sides.
you faced him fully now, so close you could feel his breathe on your face, minty and the scent of the blunt still lingering. his heat was smothering you, trying to pull you deep into a sleep you never wanted to wake up from. the arm that had been around you now rested on your jaw, cupping it so most of his hand rested on your neck, thumb tracing the perimeter of your swollen lips.
you both leaned close, slumber still ridden in your eyes, your legs, your arms, that heaviness never going away. lips met in a lazy way, tongues dancing sluggishly into each other’s mouths, messy and uncoordinated. he moved his lips against yours slowly, intimacy pulling you in closer as you struggled to kiss him back with any rhythm.
his other hand had slid under your shirt to rest on your bare hip, teasingly tugging on the lacy strap of the panties you were wearing underneath, nails occasionally dragging up your side just to feel you gasp softly into his mouth and shiver against him.
even though dabi was so damn tired, the hint of his possessiveness never left his movements, the usual tease remaining like a stain that always tortured you. when he bit your lip gently, you whimpered a sleepy moan into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing.
“sure you don’t need me, doll?” he murmured into your mouth, still lazily making out with you and gripping your face, your hands resting uselessly against his bare chest.
“mhm,” you mumbled, sighing against his lips, “m’tired, touya.”
your skin felt hot, a flush building up your neck despite the fan blowing on you from your side of the bed. you hated how easily it was for him to get you riled up. even now, when your eyes almost felt too heavy to open, you couldn’t resist all his warm and teasing touches as heat pooled in your stomach.
his fingers slid from your hip to the waistband of your underwear, sliding purposely light over your lower belly to reach under the fabric. your lips stopped moving against his at the feeling, brain moving slower than it should be.
your head tilted down to look where his hand had disappeared under your panties, forehead almost touching his as your mouth fell open when his fingers brushed past your throbbing clit to feel how wet you had become from just making out half asleep with him.
you gasped prettily when two fingers met how soaked you were at your entrance, the sound so soft and so desperate it had him enthralled with the furrowing of your eyebrows and your gaping mouth.
“feels like you do,” he whispered, a satisfied huff coming from his mouth. his grip on your jaw tilted your face back up to look at him, and the expression on your face and that glassy sheen over your eyes he always loved to see had him hardening under his boxers.
you couldn’t respond as he caught your lips in those same messy, slow kisses from before, mind turning even more to mush than it already was before. you struggled to kiss back, especially when his middle and ring fingers that had been dipping into your entrance to tease you slid back up to your swollen clit to spread your wetness, circling the bud in mind-numbing patterns.
you moaned into his mouth, noises sounding so broken, so tired that dabi couldn’t help but smirk against your lips, swallowing every cracked gasp and whimper escaping your throat.
“t-touya, please,” you whined sleepily, voice breaking at the end when his fingers left your clit and slid back down to your entrance to push gently past the tight ring of resistance of your soaked cunt.
you couldn’t help but loudly whine, back arching lazily into his fingers that were ruining you and hand darting down to weakly grab his wrist. his fingers were always so big, so long. even on a day that you weren’t so tired and sensitive it was too much.
you never lasted when you were this tired, so worked up from his touches that it took barely anything for you to come undone. dabi curled his fingers to find that rough patch that had your thighs trembling around his hand, not even thrusting his fingers inside you, just rubbing that spot over and over and over to not overwhelm you too much.
“m’not gonna last,” you gasped, pathetically tugging at his wrist because it was just so fucking much to take with how over sensitive you were when you’re tired. tears were already brimming your eyes, threatening to fall.
“don’t have to last, baby,” he murmured, not for once stopping his pace or tearing his gaze from how fucked out your face already looked. “wanna feel you cum on my fingers, just like this.”
you were softly panting, making noises that had him wanting to palm himself through his boxers just from hearing how broken they were.
“this all it takes, sweetheart?” the fucker leaned forward to whisper in your ear, biting your earlobe gently just to feel the shiver that ran down your body.
your soft cries of yes and nods of your head had him turning to press a kiss on your temple with how good you were being for him, so sleepy, so pliant.
“saying you don’t need me when you’re fuckin’ soaking my wrist.” his filthy mouth always had you hot, feeling like you could come undone just from him whispering those dirty words in your ear. you didn’t respond, and he didn’t expect you to, feeling how overwhelmed you were by how hard you gripped his wrist.
your moans rose in volume, turning louder but more broken now that you were so close.
“ what happens when i do this, huh?” he said as his thumb found your neglected clit to rub firm circles into swollen bud, slide made so easy with how drenched his hand was. your reaction was immediate, crying out curses and leaning forward to try to bury your face in his neck because you knew you would cum embarrassingly fast now.
“nah, look at me when i’m ruining you,” he said, pulling your face out of his neck as you whined in desperation. “wanna look at you when you make a mess on my hand.”
that was all it took, your thighs trembling violently as your high hit you as if you were thrown into cold water, traveling up your entire body as your form shuddered and shook against him. your nails scratched at his wrist, mouth falling open, tears falling down your cheeks as your brows furrowed painfully, trying your best to keep yourself focused on his turquoise eyes.
your cunt gushed around his fingers, pulsing around his fingers in rhythmic waves as he helped you come down from the intense high. his thumb gently rubbed at your clit, slowing its pace when you started to whine too much and tug at his wrist a little too hard.
“that feel good, baby?” his question had you burying your face into his neck, nodding with a whimper as you panted softly. dabi slid his fingers out as slowly as possible, earning a small noise from your lips that made him laugh.
your eyes felt heavy now, even more so than before, but apparently sleep wasn’t in your future because your white haired asshole of a boyfriend had started to untangle himself from you to slide down the bed. your brain couldn’t even process fully what was going on until he had settled between your legs on his stomach, covers now ripped away to the side.
“wanna taste you, y’can give me one more, right, sweetheart?” touya mumbled into the skin of your thigh, sucking marks into the skin there and pressing a kiss over your covered cunt.
your sleepy nod was all it took for him to smile a wide grin and start sliding the lace of your underwear down your legs, pulling them to rest over his shoulders, your heels resting on his bare back.
usually he would drag this out, taking his sweet time to have you frustrated and begging for more. but not right now. he was tired himself, feeling too worked up to even be the usual tease he was, too desperate to feel you grind into his mouth and taste you on his tongue.
he wasted no time, immediately placing kitten licks on your clit before sliding his pierced tongue in perfect glides over the bud. occasionally he would dip his head down to obscenely slurp at the entrance of your cunt, groaning at your taste and how much of a mess you were making all over his chin and face.
you were an overstimulated, tired mess, pulling harshly at his white hair and not understanding if you were trying to get away from his relentless mouth or closer. the ball of his piercing kept sliding over your clit in a way that had you kicking your legs on his back, thighs trying to close as he held them open.
knowing you couldn’t hold out for very long, you tilted your head back against the pillow to stop staring at the sinful sight of dabi absolutely devouring your cunt. whines of his name left your mouth in constant flows. the sound of his broken groans and the slight movement of the bed had you leaning back up to rest on your elbows.
you were met with the sight of him humping into the sheets, his groans vibrating through your core as he tried to keep his pace focused as he ground his cock into the mattress beneath him. the picture had you moaning even louder, the sight so hot it had your thighs closing around his head as you came for the second time.
your back arched, a loud cry leaving your lips as you made a mess on his face, your voice inevitably breaking at how exhausted you were. he worked you through it, his groans becoming more and more breathy and high pitched as he reached his own end, a small gasp leaving his throat as he came in his boxers against the bed.
you brushed through his hair, combing the strands away so you could place your palm on his face. touya’s eyes were closed, panting against your thigh as he came down from his high. his hand came up to rest over yours, moving it so he could press a kiss to your palm, sighing tiredly.
“c’mere,” you whispered, wanting him close to you as you fought the urge to close your eyes. the man sluggishly pulled himself up, hovering over your frame to press a sleepy kiss on your lips before settling beside you so he could rest his head on your chest.
you could feel his breathing becoming slower, could feel the kisses he pressed on your neck as you ran your hand through his hair and massaged his scalp. your other arm traced his back in lines and patterns over this scarred skin.
you didn’t hear his quiet thank you or the confessions he whispered incoherently against your skin, sleep pulling you too intensely to hold on to reality any longer.
touya struggled to say what he wanted to express when he was conscious, but now, when his brain was muddled and every worry of the future and horror of the past faded away into dreams, it didn’t matter.
warnings: soft & tired touya, fluff, his filthy mouth obv, fingering, f! reader, my fav lazy eater, biggest tease known to mankind, intimateee, mentions of smoking
your head felt like lead, heavy and sunk against the soft pillow of your bed. the tv was on, illuminating the dark room in a gentle glow as a show you had put on silently played in the background.
the well-used fan blew gentle gusts of cool air against your exposed skin, humming its constant song through the space. occasional sirens could be heard in the distance, muffled by the rain pattering on the windows that beat worn sills like a steady drum.
the conditions were perfect for a restful night; the type of night where you couldn’t fight the heaviness of your eyelids, the noises like a soft lullaby, flowing into your ears like water lapping a shore. limbs turned to heavy, buzzing molasses, melting into the soft blankets that provided coolness that trapped your body heat.
the man sleeping soundly beside you was in much of the same shape. the only sounds leaving him were soft breaths that couldn’t even be made out over the fan and rain. dabi laid on his back, face fully relaxed, free from the usual bored expression rendering his features, staples and ear piercings reflecting the glow from the tv. one warm and heavy arm held you loosely against his side, resting between the fabric of the shirt you stole and your bare skin.
he was warm like he always is, skin radiating heat like a never ending furnace, successfully having your body melting like a scoop of ice cream against his side. your thigh was slung over his hip, legs tangled together under the mass of messily strewn blankets covering you. dabi hated having covers above his waist, not even needing them on his long legs but never refusing them because he knew you got cold at night.
who was he to refuse your skin against his?
he never admitted these things out loud, never would. the words he couldn’t say, the words materialized into meaningless complaints combined with yielding to your every wish meant more than any useless verbalized confession. like now, where he sacrificed his hate for your favorite suffocating blanket you seemed to never sleep without just to be able to feel you tangled with him while you slept.
a roach rested in the ashtray from earlier, maybe two, giving you both the heavy sleepiness that turned your brains into mush and lowered your eyelids. you had just sluggishly opened your eyes, feeling the heavy weight soaking your limbs into the sheets. a soft sigh left your lips as your tried to blink the fuzziness from your vision.
shifting your body took more strength than it should’ve, limbs resisting as if they were stuck in jello. you searched for more of the warmth, more of the heat that consumed you as easily as dry wood caught flames—your boyfriend sleeping motionless and still beside you.
the covers rustled quietly as you scrambled slowly to rest your head on his chest, right on his collarbone so you could tuck your face into his neck, moving closer so your leg slung around his slim hips even further. your hand found its place sluggishly, almost protesting as your palm slid from the top of his abs to the place on his chest right where you felt his heart beating.
you settled there, huffing softly through your nose at how relaxed you felt against him, sleep pulling heavily at your lids as you tilted your face up to get a look at him. your movements must have jostled him awake as you felt the arm wrapped around you slowly move, dabi’s palm and fingertips smoothing over your spine in lazy movements.
his white eyebrows were furrowed now, a sleepy grumble escaping his scarred lips at how you had basically climbed on top of him, pale hair spread across the pillow beneath his head. his eyes were still closed as you gazed at him, making out the sharp line of his jaw, looking at the pale skin still remaining unscathed from the weight of his birthright, the thin eyebrows you always smoothed the edges of with your thumb.
you pouted, huffing at how he looked like this while he was half asleep—well, more than half sleep, barely conscious. his hand still traced lines up and down on your spine, moving more firmly now as if he gained enough blood flow there to move properly through the faded high and pull of sleep.
“like what you see, baby?” the gruff rasp of his voice when he woke up never failed to make you feel warmer than you did before. the lazy draw always had you at loss for words, always had you mentally throwing a bucket of ice water into your face to stay focused.
you hummed, half not wanting to give in to his constant flirting, half not being able to push past how tired you were to actually form intelligible words. the immediate dissatisfaction at your lack of words came by his hand sliding off your back to your side, staples tickling the sensitive skin there purposely to wring a reaction from you—so annoying.
he earned his prize as your immediate reaction was squirming and reaching your hand lazily to push at his face gently, grumbling at the unsuspecting touch. you lifted your head slowly off his chest, hair a mess in a way that dabi found endearing and would tease you in the morning for, your eyes barely squinting open, lips still swollen from when he wouldn’t stop biting the flesh when you made out before you both had fallen asleep.
you were met with his turquoise eyes staring at you, his lips pulled into that lazy smirk you were so accustomed to know and cherish, lids barely being open.
“too late for you to be messing with me,” you mumbled, words slurred and slightly unserious, frown embedded on your features.
“you were the one who woke me up by climbing on me,” he started, earning an exasperated groan from your lips as you dropped your head back down to his collarbone to rest your forehead there, hand coming up again to playfully push his face away again. this time the hand of his other arm caught it, placing it back down where he wanted it on his chest like the bastard he was.
“says the guy who smothers me when i’m trying to sleep,” you shoot back, voice muffled against his skin.
“you love it,” came his response, raspy and entirely serious.
“never said i didn’t, asshole,” you grumbled back, fighting the urge to smile against him.
“that why ya stare and try to get on top of me when i’m sleeping? kinda rude y’know, if you needed me, you coulda just asked b—,” you cut him off quickly with your hand coming up to rest over his smug mouth.
“shhhhhh,” you say with another groan, “please god, shut up before i suffocate you with this fucking pillow.” pulling your heavy head to barely tilt up so you were looking at him again, you smiled sleepily before removing your hand. your low eyes met his, intensely staring at his still smirking face and hearing the laugh coming from his lips, his hand still smoothing those addicting patterns into your back.
dabi suddenly shifted, pulling his arm from around you, body moving so slow you slid with him. you were now facing him, both of you resting on your sides.
you faced him fully now, so close you could feel his breathe on your face, minty and the scent of the blunt still lingering. his heat was smothering you, trying to pull you deep into a sleep you never wanted to wake up from. the arm that had been around you now rested on your jaw, cupping it so most of his hand rested on your neck, thumb tracing the perimeter of your swollen lips.
you both leaned close, slumber still ridden in your eyes, your legs, your arms, that heaviness never going away. lips met in a lazy way, tongues dancing sluggishly into each other’s mouths, messy and uncoordinated. he moved his lips against yours slowly, intimacy pulling you in closer as you struggled to kiss him back with any rhythm.
his other hand had slid under your shirt to rest on your bare hip, teasingly tugging on the lacy strap of the panties you were wearing underneath, nails occasionally dragging up your side just to feel you gasp softly into his mouth and shiver against him.
even though dabi was so damn tired, the hint of his possessiveness never left his movements, the usual tease remaining like a stain that always tortured you. when he bit your lip gently, you whimpered a sleepy moan into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing.
“sure you don’t need me, doll?” he murmured into your mouth, still lazily making out with you and gripping your face, your hands resting uselessly against his bare chest.
“mhm,” you mumbled, sighing against his lips, “m’tired, touya.”
your skin felt hot, a flush building up your neck despite the fan blowing on you from your side of the bed. you hated how easily it was for him to get you riled up. even now, when your eyes almost felt too heavy to open, you couldn’t resist all his warm and teasing touches as heat pooled in your stomach.
his fingers slid from your hip to the waistband of your underwear, sliding purposely light over your lower belly to reach under the fabric. your lips stopped moving against his at the feeling, brain moving slower than it should be.
your head tilted down to look where his hand had disappeared under your panties, forehead almost touching his as your mouth fell open when his fingers brushed past your throbbing clit to feel how wet you had become from just making out half asleep with him.
you gasped prettily when two fingers met how soaked you were at your entrance, the sound so soft and so desperate it had him enthralled with the furrowing of your eyebrows and your gaping mouth.
“feels like you do,” he whispered, a satisfied huff coming from his mouth. his grip on your jaw tilted your face back up to look at him, and the expression on your face and that glassy sheen over your eyes he always loved to see had him hardening under his boxers.
you couldn’t respond as he caught your lips in those same messy, slow kisses from before, mind turning even more to mush than it already was before. you struggled to kiss back, especially when his middle and ring fingers that had been dipping into your entrance to tease you slid back up to your swollen clit to spread your wetness, circling the bud in mind-numbing patterns.
you moaned into his mouth, noises sounding so broken, so tired that dabi couldn’t help but smirk against your lips, swallowing every cracked gasp and whimper escaping your throat.
“t-touya, please,” you whined sleepily, voice breaking at the end when his fingers left your clit and slid back down to your entrance to push gently past the tight ring of resistance of your soaked cunt.
you couldn’t help but loudly whine, back arching lazily into his fingers that were ruining you and hand darting down to weakly grab his wrist. his fingers were always so big, so long. even on a day that you weren’t so tired and sensitive it was too much.
you never lasted when you were this tired, so worked up from his touches that it took barely anything for you to come undone. dabi curled his fingers to find that rough patch that had your thighs trembling around his hand, not even thrusting his fingers inside you, just rubbing that spot over and over and over to not overwhelm you too much.
“m’not gonna last,” you gasped, pathetically tugging at his wrist because it was just so fucking much to take with how over sensitive you were when you’re tired. tears were already brimming your eyes, threatening to fall.
“don’t have to last, baby,” he murmured, not for once stopping his pace or tearing his gaze from how fucked out your face already looked. “wanna feel you cum on my fingers, just like this.”
you were softly panting, making noises that had him wanting to palm himself through his boxers just from hearing how broken they were.
“this all it takes, sweetheart?” the fucker leaned forward to whisper in your ear, biting your earlobe gently just to feel the shiver that ran down your body.
your soft cries of yes and nods of your head had him turning to press a kiss on your temple with how good you were being for him, so sleepy, so pliant.
“saying you don’t need me when you’re fuckin’ soaking my wrist.” his filthy mouth always had you hot, feeling like you could come undone just from him whispering those dirty words in your ear. you didn’t respond, and he didn’t expect you to, feeling how overwhelmed you were by how hard you gripped his wrist.
your moans rose in volume, turning louder but more broken now that you were so close.
“ what happens when i do this, huh?” he said as his thumb found your neglected clit to rub firm circles into swollen bud, slide made so easy with how drenched his hand was. your reaction was immediate, crying out curses and leaning forward to try to bury your face in his neck because you knew you would cum embarrassingly fast now.
“nah, look at me when i’m ruining you,” he said, pulling your face out of his neck as you whined in desperation. “wanna look at you when you make a mess on my hand.”
that was all it took, your thighs trembling violently as your high hit you as if you were thrown into cold water, traveling up your entire body as your form shuddered and shook against him. your nails scratched at his wrist, mouth falling open, tears falling down your cheeks as your brows furrowed painfully, trying your best to keep yourself focused on his turquoise eyes.
your cunt gushed around his fingers, pulsing around his fingers in rhythmic waves as he helped you come down from the intense high. his thumb gently rubbed at your clit, slowing its pace when you started to whine too much and tug at his wrist a little too hard.
“that feel good, baby?” his question had you burying your face into his neck, nodding with a whimper as you panted softly. dabi slid his fingers out as slowly as possible, earning a small noise from your lips that made him laugh.
your eyes felt heavy now, even more so than before, but apparently sleep wasn’t in your future because your white haired asshole of a boyfriend had started to untangle himself from you to slide down the bed. your brain couldn’t even process fully what was going on until he had settled between your legs on his stomach, covers now ripped away to the side.
“wanna taste you, y’can give me one more, right, sweetheart?” touya mumbled into the skin of your thigh, sucking marks into the skin there and pressing a kiss over your covered cunt.
your sleepy nod was all it took for him to smile a wide grin and start sliding the lace of your underwear down your legs, pulling them to rest over his shoulders, your heels resting on his bare back.
usually he would drag this out, taking his sweet time to have you frustrated and begging for more. but not right now. he was tired himself, feeling too worked up to even be the usual tease he was, too desperate to feel you grind into his mouth and taste you on his tongue.
he wasted no time, immediately placing kitten licks on your clit before sliding his pierced tongue in perfect glides over the bud. occasionally he would dip his head down to obscenely slurp at the entrance of your cunt, groaning at your taste and how much of a mess you were making all over his chin and face.
you were an overstimulated, tired mess, pulling harshly at his white hair and not understanding if you were trying to get away from his relentless mouth or closer. the ball of his piercing kept sliding over your clit in a way that had you kicking your legs on his back, thighs trying to close as he held them open.
knowing you couldn’t hold out for very long, you tilted your head back against the pillow to stop staring at the sinful sight of dabi absolutely devouring your cunt. whines of his name left your mouth in constant flows. the sound of his broken groans and the slight movement of the bed had you leaning back up to rest on your elbows.
you were met with the sight of him humping into the sheets, his groans vibrating through your core as he tried to keep his pace focused as he ground his cock into the mattress beneath him. the picture had you moaning even louder, the sight so hot it had your thighs closing around his head as you came for the second time.
your back arched, a loud cry leaving your lips as you made a mess on his face, your voice inevitably breaking at how exhausted you were. he worked you through it, his groans becoming more and more breathy and high pitched as he reached his own end, a small gasp leaving his throat as he came in his boxers against the bed.
you brushed through his hair, combing the strands away so you could place your palm on his face. touya’s eyes were closed, panting against your thigh as he came down from his high. his hand came up to rest over yours, moving it so he could press a kiss to your palm, sighing tiredly.
“c’mere,” you whispered, wanting him close to you as you fought the urge to close your eyes. the man sluggishly pulled himself up, hovering over your frame to press a sleepy kiss on your lips before settling beside you so he could rest his head on your chest.
you could feel his breathing becoming slower, could feel the kisses he pressed on your neck as you ran your hand through his hair and massaged his scalp. your other arm traced his back in lines and patterns over this scarred skin.
you didn’t hear his quiet thank you or the confessions he whispered incoherently against your skin, sleep pulling you too intensely to hold on to reality any longer.
touya struggled to say what he wanted to express when he was conscious, but now, when his brain was muddled and every worry of the future and horror of the past faded away into dreams, it didn’t matter.
warnings: dabi, overstim, filthy and intimate, cursing, tracing his scars, fem! reader, switch! dabi propaganda, riding, squirting
“fuck you’re so deep like this,” you whimpered out, voice cracking and breaking at the end as you focused on moving your hips down his length, ignoring the trembling of your legs.
you ignored the breathy laugh leaving his lips, his own whines leaving the scarred opening of his mouth, muffled behind his need to act like you weren’t making him lose his mind.
because you were.
your hands were planted firmly on his abs, feeling the muscle flex and twitch every time you slid back down to meet his pelvis. little gasps left your lips as you took him completely, shudders racking your body, eyebrows scrunching at the feeling of his swollen tip kissing your cervix.
“feel good, pretty boy?” the only sounds filling the room were the sounds of your ass colliding against his sticky thighs. the lewd squelching of your soaked cunt reverberating through the quietness, muffling the smooth drum of the creaky fan blowing cool air against your naked chest.
it was a mess. your wetness absolutely drenching your thighs, his, coating his abs in a way that had him clenching his teeth and tilting his head back to the meet the pillow beneath his head of messy black hair.
your pace was agonizing, for you and him. lifting your hips on shaky legs until only his tip remained before sliding down firmly, veins and piercings sliding over your sweet spot in a way that had turned your eyes glassy, needy whines falling from your parted lips as you tried your hardest to focus on the beautiful man under you.
his hands gripped your hips so hard the unscathed parts of his fingers turned white with the pressure, grabbing onto anything at all to not give you the pleasure of seeing what you were doing to him, the mess he was becoming underneath your cruel hips.
he hadn’t even noticed that you had said anything to him, too focused on staring at where you two met, watching the glossy sheen and sticky ropes of your mixed arousal absolutely drenching his pierced length.
every drop of your hips, every time he felt how fucking wet you were as you began to perform practiced swirls of your cruel body on the tip of his cock before dropping your full weight back down, hard—it had him keening, his own expression somehow looking more wrecked than yours no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
you focused on the scrunch of his eyebrows, thin black brows gorgeously framing his face, the intense azure of his eyes, the clenching of his jaw. his chest rose and fell in a way that showed the effect of just how overstimulated it was to feel you like this, biceps flexing, abs tensing at every clench of your walls around him.
you hid your smile of satisfaction, the happiness—albeit a very smug form of joy—that it brought you to help him let go like this, to feel.
it had you leaning forward, halting the movements of your legs and just taking the nearly overwhelming feeling of him buried so deep inside you to get closer to him. your hands slid up his abs to his chest, feeling every single texture of his smooth and scarred skin alike under your palms.
the sudden stop of the addicting feeling of your wetness bouncing on him forced a frustrated groan from the back of dabi’s throat, the sound choked out and ending with raspy whimpers that betrayed him.
you didn’t stop until your back was arched over him, tits pressing against his chest as you slid one hand to cup his jaw, the other smoothing teasing patterns up and down the uneven skin of his chest.
“why’d you-“ his complaint was cut off as you leaned forward to press your lips to his, immediately swallowing every groan as your tongues slipped past each other. the way you kissed one another was always so filthy. you bit gently on his lower lip, knowing he didn’t have much feeling on the scarred flesh, tugging as you swallowed every noise that left his lips.
you pulled away with a sharp gasp due to the sudden jerk of his hips when your hand had met the skin of his lower abs, fingernails tracing down, down to his v-line. the feeling of him so ridiculously deep had you panting, whispering broken curses as you felt him try to regain all the control you had stolen away from him.
“asked you something, y’know,” you pouted, trying to readjust so you could actually focus on him.
“stop with the pouty—fuck—face, pretty thing,” he snapped back, groaning at the feeling of your hand steadying the base of his heavy cock so you could lift yourself slightly off of him. dabi wouldn’t admit he didn’t hear a word you said earlier.
a teasing grin graced your swollen mouth, your hand holding his face still to trace the perimeter of his lips, switching between the scarred lower flesh and the pale healthy skin sitting above. the tip of your thumb smoothed over both bottom and top, trying to get him to focus on the difference of how it felt, seeing how sensitive it felt as your skin touched the uneven texture back to the unmarred surface.
it had his abs tensing again, cheeks feeling even more hot than his usual unnaturally high body temperature. you took the opportunity of him being distracted to lift yourself tortuously slow all the way back off his throbbing cock, before slamming fully down.
the motion forced a full body reaction from the man, his leg sliding up to plant his foot on the mattress, one hand falling off your hip to desperately grasp at the sheet, smoke rising as he singed the sheets beneath his hand, back coming off the bed in an arch as he tried to scramble to sit up.
it was too fucking much. the feeling of it all, how overstimulated he was, how sensitive it felt to have your hands trace where every nerve ending was fried to where actual sensation was on his smooth skin. it was like smothering a flame with a blanket and then throwing gasoline over the open flames, making them burst into fiery swirls of red and yellow, or as intense as blue fire.
you saw his distressed expression, your other hand that had been grazing his chest and abdomen coming up to catch him as he fully sat up, burying his face into your neck as his arm not gripping the sheets wrapped around your back to rest on your shoulder.
“touya baby,” you said breathily, adjusting so your knees wrapped around his slim waist. he was muttering curses into the skin of your neck, nipping at your skin as he rocked his hips into yours, desperate to feel more of you drenching his cock.
your hand rested in his hair, stroking through the dark strands as his hand lifted from the sheets to grasp at your waist. the heat of his palm shocked you, arching into him as you gasped sharply and tugged harshly at his roots, making him growl into your throat, guiding you up and down his length harshly.
it was your turn to let up the act, slowly relenting and losing the grasp you had over his pleasure. you whimpered at the sporadic movements of his hips thrusting upward into you, meeting them with the own dropping of your weight on him in swirling circles. this angle had him pressing up against every spot that had you gushing around him, clit rubbing against the white tuffs of hair at his pelvis in a way that you knew you wouldn’t last.
“m’gonna fucking cum, p-please,” you gasped, voice breaking as you humped harder against him, arching so painfully into him that you knew you would be sore tomorrow.
“then cum,” he breathed into your neck, panting whiny groans into the now purple and red skin of your throat and collarbone. “fucking cum for me, n-need to feel you doll,” touya gasped, feeling you immediately come apart around his cock with a shuddered gasp at his words.
your body was completely shaking, shuddering at the sheer intensity of the orgasm you just experienced, tears dripping down your burning hot cheeks and sliding down your neck.
but dabi didn’t stop, pushing you into full fledged overstimulation, flipping the script to make you come undone as you whined pathetically against his shoulder, forehead feeling heavy against the muscles of his arm.
he pulled his face out of your neck, the faintest droplets of blood smeared against the staples beneath his eyes from your little act earlier. you moaned as he kept bouncing you in his lap, his hand gripping your hair firm enough for the delicious sting to reverberate through your scalp.
touya forced you to look at him, wanting to see just how fucked out you were, how overwhelmed you got when he took any sort of control and made you take his pierced cock so deep you felt it in your stomach. smirking at the tears running down your face, at how your gaped mouth fell open as your brows furrowed into that adorable little pout he loved so much.
before you could even fathom what was happening, he had you flipped onto your stomach, laying flat with a pillow under your lower belly to keep your ass up to his liking.
now he was dropping every bit of his weight into you, leaning down with both hands on either side of your body as he wrecked your soaked cunt. every thrust of his hips was punishing, quick and deep. you were being so fucking loud now, the squelching of your cunt so disgustingly obscene it had your skin hot.
“y’feel me baby?” he leaned down to murmur into your ear. “feel how i’m in your goddamn stomach?”
he emphasized by sliding a hand under you to feel the bulge he was making in your lower abdomen, pressing on it to hear you try to whine a response out to him. nothing coherent came out, only broken words and mumbles of how good it was coming out and his name falling from your lips, over and over and over like some sinful song.
his chest leaned over yours now, full weight pushing into you as he whispered filth into your ear, making you tighten repeatedly around him, so desperately close to the edge you couldn’t help but to reach out desperately to grab onto his forearm.
dabi laughed, not for once stopping the force of his thrusts into you, wanting to return a favor you so graciously bestowed upon him earlier—to feel.
“gonna-,” your cry could barely be made out, but he knew what it was, feeling the way your thighs trembled under him and how your cunt repeatedly pulsed around his cock.
“what’s that, pretty girl?” his hand slid to grasp your jaw, pushing himself close to brush his uneven lips against yours. “c’mon now,” another kiss of his tip to your cervix, “tell me what’s about to happen.”
prettily gasping, swallowing harshly, “gonna make a mess,” you sobbed, feeling his hand slide under you again to find your swollen clit.
“then make one,” his raspy voice groaned into your ear, biting at your earlobe.
his fingers rubbed furiously against the sensitive nub, making your back arch and a scream leave your lips, sobbing as you could do nothing but thrash under him as you took everything he gave you.
it didn’t take long before you came again, harder this time, high so intense you gushed out sprays of liquid all over his cock and sheets below, squirting so hard it almost forced him out. dabi groaned at the feeling, resting his forehead against your shoulder blade as he felt you drench him.
your cunt clenching so tightly around his length had him pushed over the edge in seconds, filling you with sticky ropes that he loved to watch drip out of you when he pulled out.
a little later, after a bath that had ended with the bathroom being an absolute disaster because he wouldn’t stop using too much of your expensive shampoo and thought it was funny to spray the water from the shower head into your face, a cigarette or two, a snack you helped him make, you were curled up against his chest.
you felt his heartbeat beneath your ear, felt his warm hand rubbing circles into your skin beneath the shirt you stole, felt the way the fan blew cold air onto your skin, felt the warmth of his body heat melting you into him, feeling the way he whispered that he loved you into your ear when he thought you were asleep—you felt it all.
warnings: dabi, overstim, filthy and intimate, cursing, tracing his scars, fem! reader, switch! dabi propaganda, riding, squirting
“fuck you’re so deep like this,” you whimpered out, voice cracking and breaking at the end as you focused on moving your hips down his length, ignoring the trembling of your legs.
you ignored the breathy laugh leaving his lips, his own whines leaving the scarred opening of his mouth, muffled behind his need to act like you weren’t making him lose his mind.
because you were.
your hands were planted firmly on his abs, feeling the muscle flex and twitch every time you slid back down to meet his pelvis. little gasps left your lips as you took him completely, shudders racking your body, eyebrows scrunching at the feeling of his swollen tip kissing your cervix.
“feel good, pretty boy?” the only sounds filling the room were the sounds of your ass colliding against his sticky thighs. the lewd squelching of your soaked cunt reverberating through the quietness, muffling the smooth drum of the creaky fan blowing cool air against your naked chest.
it was a mess. your wetness absolutely drenching your thighs, his, coating his abs in a way that had him clenching his teeth and tilting his head back to the meet the pillow beneath his head of messy black hair.
your pace was agonizing, for you and him. lifting your hips on shaky legs until only his tip remained before sliding down firmly, veins and piercings sliding over your sweet spot in a way that had turned your eyes glassy, needy whines falling from your parted lips as you tried your hardest to focus on the beautiful man under you.
his hands gripped your hips so hard the unscathed parts of his fingers turned white with the pressure, grabbing onto anything at all to not give you the pleasure of seeing what you were doing to him, the mess he was becoming underneath your cruel hips.
he hadn’t even noticed that you had said anything to him, too focused on staring at where you two met, watching the glossy sheen and sticky ropes of your mixed arousal absolutely drenching his pierced length.
every drop of your hips, every time he felt how fucking wet you were as you began to perform practiced swirls of your cruel body on the tip of his cock before dropping your full weight back down, hard—it had him keening, his own expression somehow looking more wrecked than yours no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
you focused on the scrunch of his eyebrows, thin black brows gorgeously framing his face, the intense azure of his eyes, the clenching of his jaw. his chest rose and fell in a way that showed the effect of just how overstimulated it was to feel you like this, biceps flexing, abs tensing at every clench of your walls around him.
you hid your smile of satisfaction, the happiness—albeit a very smug form of joy—that it brought you to help him let go like this, to feel.
it had you leaning forward, halting the movements of your legs and just taking the nearly overwhelming feeling of him buried so deep inside you to get closer to him. your hands slid up his abs to his chest, feeling every single texture of his smooth and scarred skin alike under your palms.
the sudden stop of the addicting feeling of your wetness bouncing on him forced a frustrated groan from the back of dabi’s throat, the sound choked out and ending with raspy whimpers that betrayed him.
you didn’t stop until your back was arched over him, tits pressing against his chest as you slid one hand to cup his jaw, the other smoothing teasing patterns up and down the uneven skin of his chest.
“why’d you-“ his complaint was cut off as you leaned forward to press your lips to his, immediately swallowing every groan as your tongues slipped past each other. the way you kissed one another was always so filthy. you bit gently on his lower lip, knowing he didn’t have much feeling on the scarred flesh, tugging as you swallowed every noise that left his lips.
you pulled away with a sharp gasp due to the sudden jerk of his hips when your hand had met the skin of his lower abs, fingernails tracing down, down to his v-line. the feeling of him so ridiculously deep had you panting, whispering broken curses as you felt him try to regain all the control you had stolen away from him.
“asked you something, y’know,” you pouted, trying to readjust so you could actually focus on him.
“stop with the pouty—fuck—face, pretty thing,” he snapped back, groaning at the feeling of your hand steadying the base of his heavy cock so you could lift yourself slightly off of him. dabi wouldn’t admit he didn’t hear a word you said earlier.
a teasing grin graced your swollen mouth, your hand holding his face still to trace the perimeter of his lips, switching between the scarred lower flesh and the pale healthy skin sitting above. the tip of your thumb smoothed over both bottom and top, trying to get him to focus on the difference of how it felt, seeing how sensitive it felt as your skin touched the uneven texture back to the unmarred surface.
it had his abs tensing again, cheeks feeling even more hot than his usual unnaturally high body temperature. you took the opportunity of him being distracted to lift yourself tortuously slow all the way back off his throbbing cock, before slamming fully down.
the motion forced a full body reaction from the man, his leg sliding up to plant his foot on the mattress, one hand falling off your hip to desperately grasp at the sheet, smoke rising as he singed the sheets beneath his hand, back coming off the bed in an arch as he tried to scramble to sit up.
it was too fucking much. the feeling of it all, how overstimulated he was, how sensitive it felt to have your hands trace where every nerve ending was fried to where actual sensation was on his smooth skin. it was like smothering a flame with a blanket and then throwing gasoline over the open flames, making them burst into fiery swirls of red and yellow, or as intense as blue fire.
you saw his distressed expression, your other hand that had been grazing his chest and abdomen coming up to catch him as he fully sat up, burying his face into your neck as his arm not gripping the sheets wrapped around your back to rest on your shoulder.
“touya baby,” you said breathily, adjusting so your knees wrapped around his slim waist. he was muttering curses into the skin of your neck, nipping at your skin as he rocked his hips into yours, desperate to feel more of you drenching his cock.
your hand rested in his hair, stroking through the dark strands as his hand lifted from the sheets to grasp at your waist. the heat of his palm shocked you, arching into him as you gasped sharply and tugged harshly at his roots, making him growl into your throat, guiding you up and down his length harshly.
it was your turn to let up the act, slowly relenting and losing the grasp you had over his pleasure. you whimpered at the sporadic movements of his hips thrusting upward into you, meeting them with the own dropping of your weight on him in swirling circles. this angle had him pressing up against every spot that had you gushing around him, clit rubbing against the white tuffs of hair at his pelvis in a way that you knew you wouldn’t last.
“m’gonna fucking cum, p-please,” you gasped, voice breaking as you humped harder against him, arching so painfully into him that you knew you would be sore tomorrow.
“then cum,” he breathed into your neck, panting whiny groans into the now purple and red skin of your throat and collarbone. “fucking cum for me, n-need to feel you doll,” touya gasped, feeling you immediately come apart around his cock with a shuddered gasp at his words.
your body was completely shaking, shuddering at the sheer intensity of the orgasm you just experienced, tears dripping down your burning hot cheeks and sliding down your neck.
but dabi didn’t stop, pushing you into full fledged overstimulation, flipping the script to make you come undone as you whined pathetically against his shoulder, forehead feeling heavy against the muscles of his arm.
he pulled his face out of your neck, the faintest droplets of blood smeared against the staples beneath his eyes from your little act earlier. you moaned as he kept bouncing you in his lap, his hand gripping your hair firm enough for the delicious sting to reverberate through your scalp.
touya forced you to look at him, wanting to see just how fucked out you were, how overwhelmed you got when he took any sort of control and made you take his pierced cock so deep you felt it in your stomach. smirking at the tears running down your face, at how your gaped mouth fell open as your brows furrowed into that adorable little pout he loved so much.
before you could even fathom what was happening, he had you flipped onto your stomach, laying flat with a pillow under your lower belly to keep your ass up to his liking.
now he was dropping every bit of his weight into you, leaning down with both hands on either side of your body as he wrecked your soaked cunt. every thrust of his hips was punishing, quick and deep. you were being so fucking loud now, the squelching of your cunt so disgustingly obscene it had your skin hot.
“y’feel me baby?” he leaned down to murmur into your ear. “feel how i’m in your goddamn stomach?”
he emphasized by sliding a hand under you to feel the bulge he was making in your lower abdomen, pressing on it to hear you try to whine a response out to him. nothing coherent came out, only broken words and mumbles of how good it was coming out and his name falling from your lips, over and over and over like some sinful song.
his chest leaned over yours now, full weight pushing into you as he whispered filth into your ear, making you tighten repeatedly around him, so desperately close to the edge you couldn’t help but to reach out desperately to grab onto his forearm.
dabi laughed, not for once stopping the force of his thrusts into you, wanting to return a favor you so graciously bestowed upon him earlier—to feel.
“gonna-,” your cry could barely be made out, but he knew what it was, feeling the way your thighs trembled under him and how your cunt repeatedly pulsed around his cock.
“what’s that, pretty girl?” his hand slid to grasp your jaw, pushing himself close to brush his uneven lips against yours. “c’mon now,” another kiss of his tip to your cervix, “tell me what’s about to happen.”
prettily gasping, swallowing harshly, “gonna make a mess,” you sobbed, feeling his hand slide under you again to find your swollen clit.
“then make one,” his raspy voice groaned into your ear, biting at your earlobe.
his fingers rubbed furiously against the sensitive nub, making your back arch and a scream leave your lips, sobbing as you could do nothing but thrash under him as you took everything he gave you.
it didn’t take long before you came again, harder this time, high so intense you gushed out sprays of liquid all over his cock and sheets below, squirting so hard it almost forced him out. dabi groaned at the feeling, resting his forehead against your shoulder blade as he felt you drench him.
your cunt clenching so tightly around his length had him pushed over the edge in seconds, filling you with sticky ropes that he loved to watch drip out of you when he pulled out.
a little later, after a bath that had ended with the bathroom being an absolute disaster because he wouldn’t stop using too much of your expensive shampoo and thought it was funny to spray the water from the shower head into your face, a cigarette or two, a snack you helped him make, you were curled up against his chest.
you felt his heartbeat beneath your ear, felt his warm hand rubbing circles into your skin beneath the shirt you stole, felt the way the fan blew cold air onto your skin, felt the warmth of his body heat melting you into him, feeling the way he whispered that he loved you into your ear when he thought you were asleep—you felt it all.
there's a specific leather jacket of dabi's that you've stolen from him. it smells faintly of smoke, and it's oversized to the point where it's only a couple of inches off from reaching your knees—but you wear it regardless whenever you miss him.
he thought he'd lost that stupid jacket. one day it's in his closet, the next it's not. dabi never did care much about materialistic things like clothes and such—but to you? this jacket was special. you normally hid it whenever dabi came over, but he didn't text you beforehand today, and you weren't awake to hear him walk in nor hide it.
he enters through your back window like usual to avoid being seen before he hears the muffled sound of your tv playing. his feet naturally take him towards your living room, and he pauses in the doorway when he sees you wrapped up in his jacket like it was a blanket instead as you slept peacefully on the couch.
"so that's where it went." dabi drawls, taking a moment to observe the sight in front of him before he exhales quietly through his nose. he walks over to the couch, footsteps muffled and quiet before he stops right in front of you. there's a trickle of drool running down the corner of your mouth, and his lip twitches at the sight before a scarred hand is reaching out to swipe it away. he cradles your jaw for a moment afterwards before pulling away
"you're seriously not awake?"
he waits for something to indicate you might be pretending to sleep, a twitch of an eye or a subtle movement from under his jacket—but you remain still and unaware of his presence.
just for good measure, dabi presses a finger against your nose to see if your eyelids react at all to the touch—a trick he's used on victims before to see if they're playing dead—but still, you remain motionless.
he pulls away slowly. now that he's confirmed you're asleep, he lets himself lean forward and place a gentle, lingering kiss onto your temple.
"missed ya today. can't believe you stole my jacket and never said a word about it... you're lucky you're a pretty thief." he murmurs quietly to no response
he stands up afterwards, tucking his hands into his pockets. dabi could leave a note to let you know he visited your place while you were asleep on the couch, but that would mean acknowledging the fact that you stole his jacket—and that would mean he should rightfully demand you return it.
but, the thing was, the sight of you curled up in it was something that made his chest feel tight. he doesn't want his jacket back knowing you wear it, but outright saying you could keep it made him sound soft—and dabi wasn't soft. he was all rough edges and sharp tongued.
touya... touya was soft, but not dabi.
so, he'll pretend he doesn't know you have his jacket. he'll leave your apartment quietly and show up a couple days later acting as if he has no idea you're deliberately hiding something of his—and you'll never know that dabi came by at all.
hcs for how i think dabi would be sleeping next to you
warnings: none just fluff, gn! reader
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
ঌ either sleeps sprawled out on his back or on his stomach, nothing else. this includes smothering you, yes.
ঌ your own personal heater. this man’s body temperature runs unnaturally high, and due to his habits of sleeping in just sweatpants, shirtless, the skin on skin feels so much more intense.
ঌ has to always be touching you in some way, even if that meant just an arm lazily thrown around your middle when you claimed you were too hot to be smothered by his weight. you noticed how possessive he could be, how he surrendered to you in the quiet of night when the only noise was the pattering rain on the window and the sound of your heartbeat against his ear.
ঌ as time passed, and him being in your bed became more of a tireless habit rather than a rarity, the more that small part of him needed you to be in his arms. would pout in the most annoying way for you to get in bed, leaning up against the headboard, one arm behind his head, other holding a cigarette, just to intensely stare and flirt until you caved in.
ঌ would tease you endlessly if you woke up absolutely clinging to him, head on his scarred chest, his arm caging you in against his side, warm palm engulfing the bare skin of your waist. little do you know that he actually can rest with you at his side, all the pain and rage his soul carried dimming like a candle left to burn too long.
ঌ knows he shouldn’t let you get so close, shouldn’t involve you in the weight of his past, but he can’t fight the burning in his chest, the fire of his desperation to have you by his side, surely burning you in the process, burning him.
ঌ felt small the first time you laid beside him with your elbow supporting your head, hand tracing the lines of marred and healthy skin. your gaze said more than you ever would verbalize out loud, a look of awe and something far too close to acceptance. you never pushed, never pried, never expected—you just stared like you didn’t want to see him go.
ঌ loved looking at you while you slept, your head tucked into his neck, lashes gently resting on your cheeks, mouth slightly parted with every puff of air you breathed. dabi would look with an expression akin to gratitude, to reverence, because out of all the things he could never grasp and reach, maybe this could be it, the reason for his painful existence.
ঌ is not a morning person whatsoever. would actually just refuse to let you get up, pulling you back into him by your waist. how could you resist when he was all teasing touches and warm skin?
ঌ despite the constant grumpiness in the early hours of dawn, has the sexiest morning voice. the deep rasp of doll or babe against your skin always had you flushed and hot. his eyes, all low and heavy, consumed you like fire ignites dry wood.
ঌ who was always in pain—so much nerve damage and his quirk always nipping at healthy skin left the man in a constant state of discomfort. but with you, with your arms wrapped around him, one hand in his hair, the other tracing lines with your nails down the expanse of his back, his own arms wrapped tightly around your waist, nothing hurt at all. not even a little bit.
ঌ would always slip a warm hand up your shirt just to feel your skin against his own scars. the smile on your face and the smirk he returned only making the man feel needed, feel seen. with every word he never expressed, with every thought he couldn’t tell you face to face, it was revealed in these moments. whenever he would barely trace your cheeks with his knuckles as you slept against him, whenever he would sigh against your neck as you held him without a single expectation, without fear or disgust, this was everything he could never say out loud.
warnings: silly little one-shot for dabi ft the lov, fluff, we deserve this after that last episode, lov doing lov things, cigarettes, (im coping)
the room was cozy, soft music filtering through the air, the warm lights casting an orange glow through the atmosphere. it was as quiet as it could be, peaceful, serene in a lifestyle of endless chaos and anticipation.
the clinks of glasses could be heard from the bar, kurogiri wiping the crystal spotless with a rag. toga and twice lounged on the floor, chattering about the mess of cards that they probably bothered compress for. if you listened closely enough, you could hear the shouts of distress coming from both shigaraki and spinner’s respective rooms—another bad match of league unfolding no doubt.
a scarred hand rested on your bare calf like it belonged there, your legs slung over dabi’s lap, your back leaning against the arm of the couch. hood of your sweatshirt pulled up, you sunk into the warmth of the moment, of the serenity you rarely received.
you focused on the warmth of dabi’s palm, his fingers lightly massaging your smooth skin, licking your skin like gentle flames. his other arm stretched lazily against the back of the couch, hand holding a lit cigarette that you had been sharing moments prior.
you couldn’t help but stare at his face, every motion of his hand to his lips to take a drag of the cig, the way his lips wrapped around it, how the smoke escaped his mouth in wispy trails of white. you stared at the piercings of his ears, his nose, the staples adorning the lower part of his face, beneath the cerulean eyes that held your gaze far too often.
dabi couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, looking from his peripherals at the small pout on your lips as you consumed him with your eyes. it made the man want to tease you. a smaller, deeper part of himself once felt small under your gaze, at how you looked at him, how you made him feel.
he embraced it now, not just this, but everything you gave to him.
“is that mine?” the scratchy voice of your boss suddenly sounded from the doorway, his pale blue hair falling messily over his shoulders, eyes narrowing in your direction, locked on to the black hoodie drowning you.
“maybe,” you shrugged, sinking further down into the armrest of the couch. you pulled the hem up to hide the smug smile on your lips, knowing how easily irritated he could get; you always pushed at his buttons. you leaned your head over the side, staring at the dark ceiling, smirk still hidden beneath the fabric of your (shigaraki’s) hoodie.
“y’know maybe you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours,” dabi’s comment had you leaning over to grab the nearest pillow you could reach on the floor, chucking it at him.
“shut the fuck up, this doesn’t concern you,” you sat up, shooting a glance towards the man still tracing your calfs with warm hands, that smirk pulling at his face. you turned to shigaraki’s simmering self, his eyes still narrowed in annoyance as you motioned towards the hoodie.
“y’know, boss, maybe you shouldn’t leave your laundry in the damn dryer for days and get off league,” you teased.
you could hear dabi sigh loudly, his head tilting back to lean against the wall, toga’s giggles barely being hidden by her hand, twice’s dramatic gasp.
you screeched as shigaraki lunged at you, scrambling off the side of the couch with an agile thud.
a “tomura shigaraki,” sounded from behind the bar, kurogiri, your savior.
you sighed in relief, still laying awkwardly on the wooden floor from your fall, back hurting from your unceremonious tumble off the couch.
sitting up with a groan, elbows resting against your knees, you looked at shigaraki standing over you, his hand scratching at his neck like he was holding back from turning all your things to dust.
“sorry shigs, ill give it back,” your reply seemed honest, pulling yourself to your feet to brush past him with your hands held up in surrender. “eventually,” the small mutter falling from your lips surely being heard by your very agitated, grumpy boss.
walking over to where dabi sat sprawled out, his legs spread wide like he owned the couch, you found your place at his side, tucking your legs beneath you as you leaned your head onto the couch, facing him. he handed you the almost finished cigarette, his two fingers holding it up to your lips.
“whatever, just stop being so loud in here. im trying to focus.” the grumpy rasp of the blue haired man followed him as he shuffled back to whatever confine he called his room.
toga frowned, looking at twice still miserably trying to play whatever card game they were attempting, “we weren’t even being loud.”
you sighed, the room falling back into the same peace as before, your head resting on dabi’s shoulder, shuffling further into his side. his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, scarred hand resting on your hip.
you let your eyes close, melting into the warmth radiating off his body that seemed to never diminish or falter, hearing toga whisper how cute you two were to twice and the rumble of dabi’s chest as he told her to stop being a lunatic.
“i bought you soba,” you mumbled to dabi, eyes still shut, one of your hands moving to grasp onto his forearm wrapped around you.
“oh, did ya now?” came his response, his grip tightening around you ever so slightly.
“mhm,” you said sleepily, “in the fridge.”
“must like me or something,” that smirk always plaguing his features appeared, flicking his eyes down to your hood cladded head, to your lashes resting gently against your eyelids, your lips pulled into a sheepish smile that told him everything he needed to know.
nothing could stop you from making him feel heard, feel seen, always doing annoyingly kind things that tugged at something deep within him that he thought was long burnt away. his hand came off your hip, sliding up until it met the soft skin of your face, grasping your jaw gently to turn your sleeping face toward him.
one eye fluttered open, “something like that.” you couldn’t help but lean into his palm, his thumb ghosting over the edge of your lips.
you couldn’t help the flush rising up your neck, the blush making your cheeks feel warm, playfully pushing his stupidly attractive face away with one hand as you buried your face into his shoulder.
one second your were falling asleep against the human furnace beside you and the next you were being shaken by a hungry toga who wanted to go out for snacks.
next thing you knew you were walking with toga and dabi across rooftops to the nearest convenience store, hoods of sweatshirts pulled up like a group of criminals
well…
the breeze was cool against your bare legs, the view of the city catching your watchful gaze, the lights glittering endlessly in the distance. dabi’s hands were tucked into his pockets as he watched toga skip around excitingly all for some damn unhealthy garbage she would no doubt pick out. he watched the reflection of the city lights catch your eyes, staring at how surreal you looked under the moonlight, how peaceful your features were illuminated against the glow of night.
he wishes he could see you like that forever. a part of him kept every happy grin you bestowed upon him, every meal you left in the fridge with a sticky note with his name and a messy heart, every time your cheeks flushed because of him, every meaningless banter you exchanged, like a polaroid restricted with memories of you.
he knew he didn’t deserve it, couldn’t possibly fathom how an angel like you so desperately clung onto his heart, not caring if it burned you in the process.
you melted his pain like he melted pure metal, quickly, surely, with no ounce of expectations or fear behind your gentle hands.
the quick walk ended, all three of you climbing down from the roof on a sketchy fire escape that dabi grumbled about. the convenience store was bright, too bright. you nodded at toga to go distract the cashier, taking it upon yourself to grab everything you wanted, knowing exactly what everyone liked.
you giggled as you scanned the aisle of chips at the sight of dabi’s restless figure lazily slumped against the cooler of endless food, his tall figure buried beneath a sweatshirt that hid his face as much as it could.
“surprised you came in,” you said as you skillfully picked out what you wanted, filling up a small basket with piles of snacks and drinks, even getting tomura the shitty energy drinks he seemed to inhale every hour.
“yeah well, didn’t need that lunatic stabbing somebody over strawberry milk.”
you snorted at that, knowing he was halfway telling the truth, knowing he probably just didn’t want you to leave his sight. as you finished grabbing what you needed, you walked over to where dabi stood, swinging the basket playfully.
placing the now heavy basket down, you pressed your hands against the man’s chest, leaning up on your tiptoes to hover your lips over his, being a tease as you caught his gaze.
you squinted at him, a content smile gracing your lips, “look pretty good right now, touya.”
“bet i do, can really see everything with this neon huh,”
a small yeah fell from your mouth, your lips gently pressing against his, a sweet kiss shared under the blinding lights of the store, peace spreading over the moment like a dream.
you pulled away when he bit your bottom lip, groaning as you complained that he always turned everything into a makeout session. the shit eating grin never left his face as he ran his hand over your back, leaning down to press a teasing kiss on your head, ruffling your hood in the process.
as soon as you both walked towards the front of the store and caught sight of toga scrambling over the counter towards the frightened cashier, it was your queue to leave.
all three of you scrambled out, you leaving a wad of money somewhere near the door, an apology of sorts for the ruckus.
the walk back was short, full of you three running across rooftops in case the cashier got any ideas, laughing, toga skipping joyfully and spinning the basket around in circles, you falling into her side as you wheezed and almost face planted.
soon enough, you were back where you started. you had left twice and toga to rummage through the mountain of junk food, grabbing what you had gotten tomura and leaving it in front of his door, chips you had seen crumpled on the floor of his room before and three of the acid he called energy drinks with a small note with reparations :( scribbled onto it.
now a blanket covered your body as you sprawled against dabi’s chest, smothering him with your weight as you laid on him like a pillow. his warm hands held you close beneath the confines of the fuzzy blanket, slipping up your sweatshirt to trace patterns into your bare side and back.
of course, the empty bowl of soba laid devoured on the floor, dabi not even letting a full 5 minutes pass before finishing it.
you wanted to sink within this dream, of now, forever. every anxious thought, every ounce of dread leaving your lungs with every laugh, the sounds of everyone filling your head with joy you all so sparingly felt. your ribs hurt, ached with each giggle escaping your lips, but you never wanted it to end.
these people, this family you had found within each other, was enough. it would always be enough.
warnings: silly little one-shot for dabi ft the lov, fluff, we deserve this after that last episode, lov doing lov things, cigarettes, (im coping)
the room was cozy, soft music filtering through the air, the warm lights casting an orange glow through the atmosphere. it was as quiet as it could be, peaceful, serene in a lifestyle of endless chaos and anticipation.
the clinks of glasses could be heard from the bar, kurogiri wiping the crystal spotless with a rag. toga and twice lounged on the floor, chattering about the mess of cards that they probably bothered compress for. if you listened closely enough, you could hear the shouts of distress coming from both shigaraki and spinner’s respective rooms—another bad match of league unfolding no doubt.
a scarred hand rested on your bare calf like it belonged there, your legs slung over dabi’s lap, your back leaning against the arm of the couch. hood of your sweatshirt pulled up, you sunk into the warmth of the moment, of the serenity you rarely received.
you focused on the warmth of dabi’s palm, his fingers lightly massaging your smooth skin, licking your skin like gentle flames. his other arm stretched lazily against the back of the couch, hand holding a lit cigarette that you had been sharing moments prior.
you couldn’t help but stare at his face, every motion of his hand to his lips to take a drag of the cig, the way his lips wrapped around it, how the smoke escaped his mouth in wispy trails of white. you stared at the piercings of his ears, his nose, the staples adorning the lower part of his face, beneath the cerulean eyes that held your gaze far too often.
dabi couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, looking from his peripherals at the small pout on your lips as you consumed him with your eyes. it made the man want to tease you. a smaller, deeper part of himself once felt small under your gaze, at how you looked at him, how you made him feel.
he embraced it now, not just this, but everything you gave to him.
“is that mine?” the scratchy voice of your boss suddenly sounded from the doorway, his pale blue hair falling messily over his shoulders, eyes narrowing in your direction, locked on to the black hoodie drowning you.
“maybe,” you shrugged, sinking further down into the armrest of the couch. you pulled the hem up to hide the smug smile on your lips, knowing how easily irritated he could get; you always pushed at his buttons. you leaned your head over the side, staring at the dark ceiling, smirk still hidden beneath the fabric of your (shigaraki’s) hoodie.
“y’know maybe you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours,” dabi’s comment had you leaning over to grab the nearest pillow you could reach on the floor, chucking it at him.
“shut the fuck up, this doesn’t concern you,” you sat up, shooting a glance towards the man still tracing your calfs with warm hands, that smirk pulling at his face. you turned to shigaraki’s simmering self, his eyes still narrowed in annoyance as you motioned towards the hoodie.
“y’know, boss, maybe you shouldn’t leave your laundry in the damn dryer for days and get off league,” you teased.
you could hear dabi sigh loudly, his head tilting back to lean against the wall, toga’s giggles barely being hidden by her hand, twice’s dramatic gasp.
you screeched as shigaraki lunged at you, scrambling off the side of the couch with an agile thud.
a “tomura shigaraki,” sounded from behind the bar, kurogiri, your savior.
you sighed in relief, still laying awkwardly on the wooden floor from your fall, back hurting from your unceremonious tumble off the couch.
sitting up with a groan, elbows resting against your knees, you looked at shigaraki standing over you, his hand scratching at his neck like he was holding back from turning all your things to dust.
“sorry shigs, ill give it back,” your reply seemed honest, pulling yourself to your feet to brush past him with your hands held up in surrender. “eventually,” the small mutter falling from your lips surely being heard by your very agitated, grumpy boss.
walking over to where dabi sat sprawled out, his legs spread wide like he owned the couch, you found your place at his side, tucking your legs beneath you as you leaned your head onto the couch, facing him. he handed you the almost finished cigarette, his two fingers holding it up to your lips.
“whatever, just stop being so loud in here. im trying to focus.” the grumpy rasp of the blue haired man followed him as he shuffled back to whatever confine he called his room.
toga frowned, looking at twice still miserably trying to play whatever card game they were attempting, “we weren’t even being loud.”
you sighed, the room falling back into the same peace as before, your head resting on dabi’s shoulder, shuffling further into his side. his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, scarred hand resting on your hip.
you let your eyes close, melting into the warmth radiating off his body that seemed to never diminish or falter, hearing toga whisper how cute you two were to twice and the rumble of dabi’s chest as he told her to stop being a lunatic.
“i bought you soba,” you mumbled to dabi, eyes still shut, one of your hands moving to grasp onto his forearm wrapped around you.
“oh, did ya now?” came his response, his grip tightening around you ever so slightly.
“mhm,” you said sleepily, “in the fridge.”
“must like me or something,” that smirk always plaguing his features appeared, flicking his eyes down to your hood cladded head, to your lashes resting gently against your eyelids, your lips pulled into a sheepish smile that told him everything he needed to know.
nothing could stop you from making him feel heard, feel seen, always doing annoyingly kind things that tugged at something deep within him that he thought was long burnt away. his hand came off your hip, sliding up until it met the soft skin of your face, grasping your jaw gently to turn your sleeping face toward him.
one eye fluttered open, “something like that.” you couldn’t help but lean into his palm, his thumb ghosting over the edge of your lips.
you couldn’t help the flush rising up your neck, the blush making your cheeks feel warm, playfully pushing his stupidly attractive face away with one hand as you buried your face into his shoulder.
one second your were falling asleep against the human furnace beside you and the next you were being shaken by a hungry toga who wanted to go out for snacks.
next thing you knew you were walking with toga and dabi across rooftops to the nearest convenience store, hoods of sweatshirts pulled up like a group of criminals
well…
the breeze was cool against your bare legs, the view of the city catching your watchful gaze, the lights glittering endlessly in the distance. dabi’s hands were tucked into his pockets as he watched toga skip around excitingly all for some damn unhealthy garbage she would no doubt pick out. he watched the reflection of the city lights catch your eyes, staring at how surreal you looked under the moonlight, how peaceful your features were illuminated against the glow of night.
he wishes he could see you like that forever. a part of him kept every happy grin you bestowed upon him, every meal you left in the fridge with a sticky note with his name and a messy heart, every time your cheeks flushed because of him, every meaningless banter you exchanged, like a polaroid restricted with memories of you.
he knew he didn’t deserve it, couldn’t possibly fathom how an angel like you so desperately clung onto his heart, not caring if it burned you in the process.
you melted his pain like he melted pure metal, quickly, surely, with no ounce of expectations or fear behind your gentle hands.
the quick walk ended, all three of you climbing down from the roof on a sketchy fire escape that dabi grumbled about. the convenience store was bright, too bright. you nodded at toga to go distract the cashier, taking it upon yourself to grab everything you wanted, knowing exactly what everyone liked.
you giggled as you scanned the aisle of chips at the sight of dabi’s restless figure lazily slumped against the cooler of endless food, his tall figure buried beneath a sweatshirt that hid his face as much as it could.
“surprised you came in,” you said as you skillfully picked out what you wanted, filling up a small basket with piles of snacks and drinks, even getting tomura the shitty energy drinks he seemed to inhale every hour.
“yeah well, didn’t need that lunatic stabbing somebody over strawberry milk.”
you snorted at that, knowing he was halfway telling the truth, knowing he probably just didn’t want you to leave his sight. as you finished grabbing what you needed, you walked over to where dabi stood, swinging the basket playfully.
placing the now heavy basket down, you pressed your hands against the man’s chest, leaning up on your tiptoes to hover your lips over his, being a tease as you caught his gaze.
you squinted at him, a content smile gracing your lips, “look pretty good right now, touya.”
“bet i do, can really see everything with this neon huh,”
a small yeah fell from your mouth, your lips gently pressing against his, a sweet kiss shared under the blinding lights of the store, peace spreading over the moment like a dream.
you pulled away when he bit your bottom lip, groaning as you complained that he always turned everything into a makeout session. the shit eating grin never left his face as he ran his hand over your back, leaning down to press a teasing kiss on your head, ruffling your hood in the process.
as soon as you both walked towards the front of the store and caught sight of toga scrambling over the counter towards the frightened cashier, it was your queue to leave.
all three of you scrambled out, you leaving a wad of money somewhere near the door, an apology of sorts for the ruckus.
the walk back was short, full of you three running across rooftops in case the cashier got any ideas, laughing, toga skipping joyfully and spinning the basket around in circles, you falling into her side as you wheezed and almost face planted.
soon enough, you were back where you started. you had left twice and toga to rummage through the mountain of junk food, grabbing what you had gotten tomura and leaving it in front of his door, chips you had seen crumpled on the floor of his room before and three of the acid he called energy drinks with a small note with reparations :( scribbled onto it.
now a blanket covered your body as you sprawled against dabi’s chest, smothering him with your weight as you laid on him like a pillow. his warm hands held you close beneath the confines of the fuzzy blanket, slipping up your sweatshirt to trace patterns into your bare side and back.
of course, the empty bowl of soba laid devoured on the floor, dabi not even letting a full 5 minutes pass before finishing it.
you wanted to sink within this dream, of now, forever. every anxious thought, every ounce of dread leaving your lungs with every laugh, the sounds of everyone filling your head with joy you all so sparingly felt. your ribs hurt, ached with each giggle escaping your lips, but you never wanted it to end.
these people, this family you had found within each other, was enough. it would always be enough.
❛ what was your first kiss like .ᐟ.ᐣ ♡ ❜ — FLUFF
⤷ ft. izuku , bakugo , shoto , dabi , hawks
*all chars are 18
⋆ ˚ ꩜ izuku midoriya is terrible at acting normal around you when he is even a little bit drunk.
you find this out somewhere around your third time going out for drinks together.
the staff room had emptied out in waves earlier, all tired heroes turned teachers dragging their feet after a long week of classes. aizawa had grumbled something about paperwork, present mic had tried to convince everyone to go to karaoke, and somehow, in the shuffle and small talk, it ended up being just you and midoriya standing in the doorway, the evening sunlight turning the windows gold.
“there’s that quiet place near the station,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “the, um, bar with the drinks you like. if you’re not too tired, i mean. we could, you know. debrief. about the week.”
you raised a brow. “debrief. is that what we are calling escaping grading duties now?”
he laughed, that soft breathless sound that still felt way too boyish for someone who could punch holes in mountains, and nodded. “professional debriefing. sorry… it's very important.”
so now you’re here, tucked into a small booth across from him, your shoes off, legs curled up on the cushion. the place is low lit and warm, the hum of quiet chatter wrapping around you. grill smoke, apps, the clink of glasses. the kind of spot regulars haunt and new people only find by accident.
izuku has shed his jacket, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened just enough to make your brain unhelpful about it. he has a beer in front of him, and the tips of his ears are pink. so are his cheeks. they always get that way after a few sips. you pretend not to find that devastatingly cute.
“so...” you say, tapping your chopsticks lightly on the edge of your plate. “how’d your class handle your quiz today? anyone cry?”
he brightens immediately. this is his territory. “no crying. a lot of determination, though. they’re really trying. their notes are getting better, and, um, you know that exercise you taught me? about turning the lesson into a story so they remember the order of moves?”
your chest warms. “yeah?”
he grins, big and genuine. “it worked! they loved it. i think you might be a genius.”
you make a show of flipping your hair. “i know.”
he laughs again, softer this time, eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. the table between you feels smaller. a little more crowded with all the unspoken things that have slowly piled up over months of shared drinks, shared lesson plans, shared late nights in empty hallways.
you take a sip of your drink and watch him thumb the rim off his glass. his fingers are calloused, knuckles nicked with fading scars. teacher hands, hero hands. he always holds his pen delicately, like he is still afraid of crushing things.
“what about you?” he asks suddenly. “how was your week? really, not just the ‘i survived’ version.”
you scrunch your nose. “it was fine.”
he gives you that look. the one that says he has read the manual on you cover to cover. “that... isn’t an answer.”
you huff. “fine-ish. they nearly blew up the training room monday. and i had to mediate a fight about who gets to sit by the window. and i’m ninety percent sure one of the kids is trying to set up their parents with each other and uses my class as a planning base.”
his eyes widen. “really?”
“oh yeah. they are committed, code names. everything. they act like i don't know.”
you laugh waving the memory off. he smiles, but it softens into something fond. “and you handled all of that by yourself.”
“that’s my job,” you point out.
he looks at you like it's more than that. like it's something precious. “you are really good at it.”
you feel your face heat. the drinks are not helping. “midoriya, you cannot just say things like that casually. i am defenseless. tipsy.”
he chokes slightly on his beer. “s-sorry.”
“you are not,” you accuse, laughing.
he ducks his head, muttering something that might be “maybe a little.” his fingers toy with his napkin, twisting the edge of it. the conversation spills into comfortable little streams, weaving between school gossip and hero stories and stupid inside jokes that only make sense to people who spend too much time in the same hallways.
by the time you leave, the air outside has cooled. the street is quieter, shops beginning to roll down their shutters. a light breeze cuts through the lingering warmth of the day, carrying the smell of rain that's priming to fall.
you walk side by side toward the station, shoulders brushing now and then. each touch sparks something small and electric in your skin.
“thank you for coming out with me…” he says after a moment. his voice is softer than the street lamps. “i know we are both busy and tired and… yeah.”
“izuku,” you tease, bumping your shoulder into his. “we’ve done this like, what, ten times now? are you going to thank me every time we get a drink?”
he tenses and then laughs, a little helpless. “i just… i look forward to it. that’s all.”
your heart somersaults, “me too.”
you reach the station entrance and stop at the bottom of the stairs. people move around you, slipping past with practiced city speed, but somehow there is still this small bubble of space where it’s just the two of you.
“so,” you say, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “this is me.”
“right.” he swallows, bobbing his head. “and i go… that way.”
he points, then seems to realize how ridiculous he looks and drops his hand quickly. his cheeks are that familiar pink again. the alcohol has worn off enough that he is mostly clear, but the warmth still lingers in his skin.
you hesitate. there is something buzzing under your tongue, a question you have been trying not to ask for months.
“hey, midoriya?”
“yeah?” he perks up, eyes bright, always so ready to listen when it comes to you.
“are we…” you lick your lips, suddenly very aware of his focus on your mouth. “do you think we’re… just friends?”
the words hang there, fragile, more vulnerable than you meant them to be.
izuku goes completely still.
you can see the thoughts whirring behind his eyes, the way he spirals inward to analyze, categorize, define. it’s like watching his quirk notes come to life again, except this time you know you’re the subject.
“i…” he starts, then stops. his fingers curl at his sides. “do you want us to be… just friends?”
you exhale, a small laugh escaping you. “that is not an answer.”
“i learned from the best,” he says, a little breathless.
your heartbeat thumps louder. “i asked you first.”
he looks at you like he is standing on the edge of a rooftop again, wind in his hair, whole future hanging off a decision.
“no,” he says quietly. “i do not.”
your pulse jumps. “oh.”
he steps a little closer. close enough that you can see the faint freckles under his eyes, the way they darken in the street lamp glow. his hands twitch, like he wants to touch you but is not sure where.
“i told myself i was being professional,” he confesses softly, words starting to tumble. “we are colleagues, and the students look up to you, and you are so good at your job, and we work together all the time, and i did not want to make things complicated or uncomfortable or ruin what we already have, because it is really important to me, you are really important to me and i thought if i just… kept it to myself, it would be fine but it’s not fine and i keep looking forward to friday nights and your messages and the way your eyes light up when you talk about your class and and and–”
“izuku.”
you reach out and grab his sleeve. gently, but firm enough to halt the spiral.
he blinks down at you, breath stuttering.
“take a breath,” you say, smiling a little. “you’re doing the thing.”
he inhales, slow and shaky. exhales. “right. sorry. i’m just… really nervous.”
“why?” you ask, though you think you know.
his eyes drop to your mouth again. they linger there, heavy and shy.
“because…” he murmurs, “i really want to kiss you, and if you say no, i’ll have to pretend i’m completely fine with that for the rest of my life.”
the world tilts a little.
you could tease him. you could make a joke, deflect, stall. you have done it before with other people. but this is midoriya. the boy who grew into a man who carries entire cities in his hands and still says please and thank you to every person he sees. the man who always walks you to the station and waits until your train actually arrives before he leaves.
so instead, you take a small step closer, until his chest almost brushes yours.
“what if i said yes?” you ask.
something in his expression cracks open. hopeful, disbelieving, almost overwhelmed.
“then…” he says, voice unsteady, “i would ask if i could… if i could really… kiss you.”
“you’re already this far,” you murmur. “finish what you started, teacher.”
his breath catches.
slowly, like he is moving through a dream, he lifts his hands. one hovers near your cheek, hesitant, fingers trembling just a little. he is strong enough to break concrete, but he touches you like you are something that must be held carefully or not at all.
“if i am misreading this,” he whispers, “please tell me to stop.”
you lean into his palm, closing the last gap between his hand and your skin. “you aren’t.”
that is all it takes.
izuku leans down, heart in his throat, and presses his mouth to yours.
the kiss is not perfect. he bumps his nose against yours on the way in, and his hand on your cheek is a fraction too tense at first, like he is bracing for impact. but the moment your lips meet, warmth flares through you like a slow, blooming fire.
he tastes faintly of beer and orchard fruit and something you believe may be his cologne. there is a quiet desperation in the way he kisses you, like he's been imagining this for long enough that the reality is almost too much.
you sigh into him, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt, feeling the rapid throb of his heart under your hand. that seems to ground him. his shoulders relax, and the kiss melts from careful to tender, from tentative to sure.
when he finally pulls back, it’s only far enough to rest his forehead against yours. his breath is uneven, fogging the small space between you.
“wow,” he whispers, voice a little wrecked. “that was… um. i’m going to be thinking about that in the staff meeting on monday.”
you snort quietly. “you better not blush when aizawa is going over the patrol schedule.”
“i probably will,” he admits, eyes crinkling at the corners. “and it will be entirely your fault.”
you feel his fingers, still curled in the fabric at your waist, flex slightly, like they aren’t ready to let go yet. his gaze flickers to your lips again, as if he is already wondering when he can do that again without inventing a reason.
✩ katsuki bakugo is already yelling before the door even slams behind you.
you barely get two steps into the locker room before his voice ricochets off the tiles, hot and sharp, shredding through the leftover adrenaline in your veins.
“what the hell was that out there?”
you rip your mask off, toss it at the bench. “wow. so specific. really narrows it down.”
his gauntlets are still on, fingers flexing like he is one second away from detonating the air itself. there is dried soot on his jaw, a cut at his temple, and his eyes are burning holes straight through you.
“you broke formation,” he spits. “i told you to circle left and you went right. you ignored a direct order.”
“your order would have gotten that hostage crushed,” you shoot back, ripping at the buckle of your bracer. your hands are still shaking. from the fight. from him. from both. “you were too busy trying to blow your way through the front line to notice the support beam was about to give!”
he steps closer. the floor hums under his boots.
“i had it handled.”
you laugh, disbelieving. “bakugo, you were one detonation away from bringing the whole damn warehouse down.”
“and you went in alone,” he snaps. “again.”
there it is. the real thing flickering under the smoke.
you yank off your other bracer and throw it harder than you need to. it clatters across the floor, skidding to a stop near his feet.
“someone had to,” you bite out. “you were pinned. the others were spread thin. i saw an opening and took it. that is called initiative.”
“that is called reckless.”
you walk right up to him, chin tilted, nose nearly touching his. the heat rolling off his body is ridiculous, like his quirk sunk under his skin and decided to live there.
“funny, coming from you.”
his jaw works. his eyes drop, just for a second, to your mouth, then snap back up like he refuses to admit it happened.
“why do you never listen?” he groans. “i'm not blowing smoke up your ass when i give you an order!”
“because i am not your trainee,” you fire back. “i am your sidekick, not some kid in your boot camp. i get to make calls too.”
“i am the one with the top billing on the damn agency,” he says. “responsibility lands on my head when shit goes sideways. so yeah. you do what i say.”
“i am not a weapon you get to point!” you hiss, frustration clawing at your throat. “ im not just here to fill in the gaps between your explosions. i think. i see angles you don't. that hostage would be dead if i just stood there and waited for you to notice they existed!”
his hands flare at his sides, tiny pops of light sputtering in his palms. not enough to hurt. enough to make your heart jerk.
“do you have any idea what it looked like,” he says, voice dropping, rougher. “turning around and realizing you were gone?”
you blink. that catches you off guard.
“i told you where i was going...!” you say, less sharp.
“you yelled ‘cover me’ and vanished into smoke,” he snarls. “you think that is a briefing? i saw that beam creak a second too late and you were right under it, and for a full three seconds i thought you were about to be pulp on the concrete.”
something twists in your chest.
“i am fine,” you say, but it comes out weaker. “i made it. we both did.”
“this time.”
the words hang there, bitter.
you throw up your hands. “what do you want me to say, katsuki? do you want an apology for saving someone? for not letting them die while you set up the perfect damn finishing move?”
his eyes flash.
“don’t twist my words.”
“then stop making it sound like i'm the problem whenever i do my job.”
you turn away, reaching for your locker, needing distance, needing something to put between you and that look on his face. your fingers barely brush the metal before his hand slams next to your head, palm cracking against the locker door.
you freeze.
he is right behind you now, chest to your back, heat rolling off him in suffocating waves. his other hand lands on the opposite side, caging you in. the locker room shrinks to the sound of both your breathing.
“bakugo,” you warn, though your voice is not as steady as you want it to be. “move.”
“no.”
you clench your jaw. “this is not how you talk to your sidekick.”
“good thing this isn't about my sidekick then,” he snaps.
you twist, glaring over your shoulder. you end up closer than you meant to be, your nose brushing his cheek. he's breathing hard, teeth bared, eyes fully blown wide, pupils dark and hot like a storm.
“what the hell is that supposed to mean,” you demand.
he stares at you like you're the stupid one. like you have missed something obvious. his fingers flex against the metal beside your head, the faint crackle of sweat igniting, dying just as fast.
“it means,” he grits out, “that it's not just my record that flashes before my eyes when you pull shit like that.”
your throat goes dry.
“cmon, you're being dramatic.”
“you're being dense.”
the words land between you, heavy. your heart starts to thud louder. you can smell smoke on him, and something underneath it that is just him, familiar from too many patrols sharing the same air.
“bakugo,” you say again, quieter. “you’re mad… because i scared you.”
he scoffs, but it is hollow. “i am mad... because you almost got yourself killed.”
“for the job.”
“for a random extra who will forget your name by next week,” he growls. “you don’t get it.”
you turn fully now, your back pressed to the locker door, his arms still braced on either side of you. he is so close it feels like standing in front of a furnace.
“then explain it,” you snap. “because from where i'm standing, you are acting like i betrayed you for doing the same crap you have done a thousand times.”
his mouth opens, then closes. his jaw tightens, then loosens, like the words are fighting to get out. his gaze drops again, unbidden, to your lips. lingers. comes back up, rawer than before.
“you are my sidekick,” he says, like that's the start and end of it.
“we have established that,” you say, irritation flaring again to cover the way your stomach flips at how hoarse his voice has gotten.
his eyes narrow. “that's not all you are.”
the room seems to tilt.
heat rushes up your neck and into your face. you hate that he can see it. you hate that he is close enough to see every tiny twitch of your expression.
“then what am i?” you ask, and your voice comes out so soft it is almost lost between you.
bakugo looks like he would rather swallow a grenade than answer, but he's already too far in.
“the person i am watching every goddamn second,” he grinds out. “the one i'm counting breaths for while i'm blowing shit up. the one i am keeping track of even when i'm not supposed to, because i'm supposed to be focusing on the fight and not on whether you remembered to reinforce your stupid suit before you charged headfirst into a collapsing building.”
your chest tightens.
“you don't have to babysit me,” you say, but your voice is shaky, the anger bleeding into something else.
“i know i don’t,” he snaps. “i know you can handle yourself. that isn't the point.”
“then what is the point?”
“the point is,” he fires back, louder now, “every time you pull some self sacrificial bullshit, i feel like my lungs are gonna blow out of my chest, and i can't do my job if i'm busy thinking about scraping you off the floor.”
you stare at him. his cheeks are flushed, eyes bright, like he' he'd just detonated something big and is still feeling the recoil.
“so you what. suffocate me instead?” you shoot back. “freeze me out of decisions? pull rank and expect me to salute?”
he snarls low in his throat. “i am trying to keep you breathing, dumbass.”
“by boxing me in?”
“by not letting you die.”
the last word tears out of him, rough, like it hurts.
for a second, neither of you moves.
your pulse hammers under your skin. his hands are still beside your head, braced, tense. the air feels thick enough to chew.
“you can't stand out there and blow half the block chasing a villain and then yell at me for taking a calculated risk.”
his eyes flick over your face, taking in every line of it, every crack.
“i can if it's your life on the line,” he says, quieter now, but no less intense. “i will every time.”
you swallow, throat tight. your fingers find the front of his costume without really thinking, grabbing a handful of the fabric just to anchor yourself.
“why?” you ask, and you hate how small it sounds.
his gaze drops to your hand on his chest. you can feel his heart under your palm, thudding hard, too fast. when he looks back up, there is nothing held back in his eyes anymore. it is all just there, raw and bright and furious.
“because i need you,” he says.
the words hit like a blast wave.
you don't have time to process them before something in him snaps.
one second you are staring up at him, chest heaving, words thick in the air. the next his hand tears off the locker to cup your jaw, fingers splayed along your cheek, thumb pressing in under your chin. he crowds you farther into the metal, body flush to yours, and crashes his mouth down onto yours.
the kiss is not polite. it isn't careful, or neat, or anything that could be called gentle. it's teeth and heat and the taste of residual smoke on his tongue as he drags you into it like another battle he refuses to lose.
you gasp into him, fingers tightening in his costume. that is all the opening he needs. he groans, deep and broken, like this is something he's been fighting himself on for a long time, and now that the dam has burst, there is no patching it up.
your back slams against the locker when you melt forward again, chasing him. the metal rattles. his other hand finds your hip, gripping hard enough to bruise, dragging you closer. every point of contact burns.
you kiss him back just as fiercely, all the arguments and frustration and late nights on stakeouts condensing into this one reckless, breathless moment. you taste copper from a split in your lip you didn't realize you had until now, and he swears against your mouth like he takes it personally.
when he finally rips his mouth away, it isn't because he wants to. it's because you both need air.
his forehead rests against yours, breaths harsh, shoulders rising and falling like he just run a marathon. his thumb still strokes the edge of your jaw, almost absent, like he can't think about letting go just yet.
“that,” he says, voice shot to hell, “was me trying not to watch you die.”
you huff, a broken sound that wants to be a laugh. your lips are swollen. “you have a messed up way of doing that...”
“shut up,” he mutters, but his eyes are on your mouth again, dark and hungry. “you piss me off. you scare the shit out of me. you make me want to blow up every building you walk into so there is nothing left that can touch you.”
you blink. “that's not how saving people works.”
“not the point.”
his hand on your hip tightens, dragging you forward a fraction more, like he's reminding himself you are solid, you are here.
“you gonna listen to me now?” he asks, quieter, but no less intense. “on missions?”
“depends,” you breathe, because you never know when to shut up. “you gonna actually talk to me like a partner, or keep barking orders and hoping i roll over.”
his mouth curves, one corner pulling up in something too sharp to be a smile and too soft to be a smirk.
“hah? we'll figure that out. ”
he leans in again, the space between you collapsing all over.
⋆˚࿔ shoto todoroki has a very specific problem, and the problem is you.
you are his sidekick. you are competent and smart and so cute and so annoying in the way that makes his chest feel weird. you fix his comm when it glitches. you tap his wrist twice before every mission “for luck.” you always order extra portion for the two of you because you found out his hobby is trying new foods. and he is in love with you about it. quietly. constantly. like a background app he cannot close.
he doesn’t say anything, of course, he just… watches.
he watches you tie your mess with your hair before patrol, fingers quick and practiced. he watches you fall asleep on the agency couch, curled under a blanket you claim isn’t yours (even though it always mysteriously shows up when you’re tired). he watches you laugh at something sero sends in the group chat, eyes crinkling, shoulders loosening like someone set you down somewhere safe for a moment. he files all of it away. carefully. respectfully. obsessively.
today has been long. nonstop villain reports, patrol, debrief. the usual. somehow it’s late again and you’re both still at the agency, overhead lights buzzing, the training room you insisted on “one last run” in still humming with residual heat and ice.
“one more simulation,” you said, fifteen minutes ago, hands on your hips, eyes bright. “we need to practice close quarters. you keep freezing the whole room.”
“that’s the point?” he answered, but you were already queuing up the exercise.
it’s supposed to be simple—close combat, minimal quirks, focus on teamwork. it’s going well for exactly thirty seconds.
then the floor moves.
“left!” you shout, darting as the tiles shift. “shoto, wall!”
he pivots, you pivot, and for half a second you’re both trying to read each other’s next step—but the room is faster.
your shoulder slams into his chest; his arm shoots out, catching your waist just as the floor tilts and your balance goes with it.
for one brief, suspended moment, you’re both weightless—falling, colliding, the padded wall slamming into his back and you stumbling full length into him, palms pressed to his chest.
and your mouth lands on his.
it isn’t a neat little movie kiss. it’s startled and off-center, a collision of lips and breath and a squeaky “mmph!” that’s mostly you trying not to yelp into his mouth. he makes a surprised “hn—” noise—more grunt than groan—and you exhale right into it, eyes wide.
for a second, neither of you move.
his hands are still on your waist. your fingers have twisted in his uniform without meaning to. your hearts are thundering loud in the quiet room, adrenaline and something sharp and tender tangled up in your chests.
you try to jerk back, scrambling for space, but he keeps you steady, eyes impossibly wide and blinking.
“ow,” he says softly, like he’s confused he can even feel pain right now.
you sputter, “oh my god. i’m— i’m so sorry, that was— the wall moved, i—”
“it’s fine,” he says automatically, because it is, because he’s only ever wanted to kiss you anyway, and now his brain has finally caught up to his heart and is lying face down on the padded floor, completely useless.
you’re still babbling. “that was— i wasn’t trying to— ambush you, or, or—”
he blinks, his cheeks glowing pink, and suddenly the room goes dead silent as the simulation times out with a cheery little beep.
the floor levels. the lights shift. you are still half in his arms.
it hits him, all at once, with brutal, simple clarity: his first kiss was an accident. with you. in the training room. because of a moving floor.
a frown pulls between his brows as he stares at you, completely earnest, a little lost.
“so…” he says, serious as a fire alarm, “...is that what they call a kiss?”
you stare, then choke, then laugh so hard you nearly lose your balance all over again.
“shoto—”
“i’m asking,” he insists, deadpan, his voice grave, but his face is pink, his lips still parted from the kiss. “for clarity.”
your face is burning. “i—yes? i mean, technically? that was a kiss. i guess? but it wasn’t—like, it was accidental, so—”
he cuts in, voice even softer. “it was my first.”
your brain stops.
for a moment you just gape at him, then burst into helpless laughter—half nerves, half delirious disbelief. “oh my god, todoroki, your first—? because of a training room malfunction? i’m so—!”
“do it again,” he says suddenly, completely, heartbreakingly serious.
you blink, thrown off your axis, but he’s already leaning in, cautious and slow, his hand finding your cheek this time. his palm is cool, his thumb gentle where it brushes under your jaw. he watches your mouth as if he’s a starved man.
“please,” he adds, low, like it matters more than anything else in the world.
so you do.
you kiss him properly this time, soft and sweet, still a little bit laughing. he returns it like he’s been waiting all year, mouth careful, then more sure, tilting his head, letting his hands find your waist again, pulling you close enough your toes almost leave the floor.
when you break away, breathless, he chases your mouth, kissing you again—quick, curious, like he can’t help himself.
you’re giggling, caught between his arms, cheeks aching from smiling as he kisses your jaw, your nose, your mouth again, and then again, like he’s got to check from every angle.
“todoroki— you’re— you’re not supposed to keep me hostage in the training room—”
“for— research,” he says, lips brushing your ear, totally deadpan. “i want to be sure—i understand.”
“you’re so silly—ah!—shoto—!” you laugh, and he kisses you again, a little off-center this time, smiling into it.
finally you try to wriggle free, still laughing, and he only holds you tighter, utterly sincere. “if we’re going to be a couple, i want to be the best at it.”
you lose it, howling with laughter as he keeps you pinned for “research,” dead serious about the whole thing, not letting you out of the training room until you show him “again”—and again—and again.
ᝰ.ᐟ you don’t talk much around toya 'dabi' todoroki
you talk a normal amount around everyone else. your friends at work, the bus driver, the old lady who always asks you to help carry her groceries up the stairs. with them, you are soft but steady, your voice a small river that moves when it needs to.
with dabi, though, your throat always feels a little tighter. not because you’re scared of him. if anything, it’s the opposite. he looks at you like you’re interesting, like you are worth paying attention to, like anything you say is going to be his new favorite thing.
which is exhausting. and a little overwhelming. and confusing in a way that makes you want to hide your face in your hands.
so most nights, you just sit beside him on the roof and let him talk.
it starts off as a weird sort of arrangement. you are not supposed to be here, technically. he is a villain. you are… not. you met on this rooftop by accident, one long weeknight where you needed air and he needed somewhere to smoke.
you remember the first time clearly. you had stumbled out onto the roof, hoodie too big, hands tucked in the pockets, ready to be blissfully alone.
instead, you got six foot something of stitched skin and bored blue eyes, perched on the ledge with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
you froze. he stared. the city hummed on below you both like this was completely normal. “well,” he said eventually, voice low, in a lazy drawl. “this is awkward.”
you should have run. screamed. called someone. instead you had just… lowered your gaze, mumbled a tiny “sorry” and started to back away.
a flash of blue flickered near the door frame, not close enough to burn, just enough to make you stop.
“relax,” he said. “i ain't gonna fry you, quiet girl.”
you had glanced up at him through your lashes. “…okay.”
“you come up here a lot?” he asked, flicking ash off the ledge.
you nodded. “sometimes...”
“hm...” his eyes dragged over you, not in a cruel way. just filing you, curious. “guess we're neighbors now.”
and that was that.
somehow, over the next few weeks, the rooftop became shared territory. most nights you climbed up there after work, shoulders tight, brain buzzing. most nights he was already there, smoke curling around him, blue flames dancing at his fingertips like bored pets.
you would sit a few feet away at first, hood up, knees pulled to your chest. he would talk at the sky, at the city, at you. nonsense, mostly. complaints about people. jokes that landed more than they missed. observations that were sharper than they had any right to be.
eventually, the gap between you narrowed. your knees started to bump now and then. his shoulder brushed your arm when he shifted. you stopped flinching when his flames crackled to life near your feet.
he flirted with you from the first week.
it was not the greasy, heavy kind of flirting you had seen too much of. it was a thin, sharp thing, wrapped in sarcasm, tossed out to see how you would react.
“so, quiet girl,” he would say, cigarette hanging between his fingers, grin tilting. “you come up here to stare at the sky or stare at me.”
you would duck your head, cheeks heating. “...the sky.”
“ouch,” he would chuckle. “cold.”
“you’re always here first,” you mumbled once. “so technically i'm the one invading your staring space.”
“mm.” he let his eyes drag slowly down your face, your tucked up knees, your bare ankles peeking out of your sweatpants. “you can invade me anytime.”
you had choked on your drink. he had laughed so hard he almost fell off the ledge.
you found out he was a virgin by accident.
it was late, even by your shared standards. the city was quieter, the sky a little darker. the neon sign across the street blinked in a tired rhythm. you were half leaning against the wall, half leaning toward him, somewhere in the middle of your usual companionable silence.
he had been on a roll that night. a steady stream of yaping from the city of yappington, easier than usual. teasing you about your hoodie, about the way you hugged your knees, about the way you never answered his flirty comments with anything more than a tiny laugh and a look.
“i think you like it...” he said, watching you through smoke. “me talking to you like this.”
you pressed your cheek to your knee, hiding a smile. “why?”
“you always look at me,” he said simply. “you get all pink and quiet. it's cute.”
you made a tiny noise, more embarrassed than irritated. “i'm always quiet.”
“not like this.”
he was right. you knew he was right. you hated that he knew he was right.
“you flirt with everybody,” you said, voice small but clear. “you call everyone cute.”
“nah.” he flicked ash over the edge, lips curling. “only the ones i want to tease.”
you hesitated. “do you… get far with that?”
his eyebrow arched. “what, you askin' about my success rate?”
you shrugged. “you act like you’re… really experienced.”
his grin broadened. “you interested in references, doll?”
maybe it was the late hour. maybe it was the fact that you had had a drink on an empty stomach. maybe it was just that you were tired of feeling like the only one being tugged around by the tension between you.
whatever it was, it made something reckless slip out of your mouth.
“i think you're all talk...” you said, as calmly as you could manage.
his head snapped toward you. “oh yeah?”
you nodded, hugging your knees tighter. “you say a lot. you… lean in. stare. say things. but you never actually… do anything.”
he narrowed his eyes, amused and offended all at once. “you tryin' t' call me out?”
“a little,” you admitted.
“careful, quiet girl.” his voice dropped, sliding over your skin like smoke. “i might take that as a challenge.”
you peeked at him. his eyes were half lidded, searching your face. there was a spark of something restless there, something almost nervous, buried under all the lazy bravado.
you swallowed. “if you were actually as experienced as you act… maybe you wouldn't have to talk so much.”
the words hung there, softer than a taunt, louder than anything you had said to him before.
for a second, his mask slips. it was quick. a flicker. but you caught it.
his fingers stilled on the cigarette. his mouth parted, then closed. the heat of his flames dropped a few degrees, leaving the air cooler than normal.
“huh,” he said.
you blinked. “sorry. that was… rude.”
“no.” he took a drag, exhaled slowly through his nose. his gaze stayed on the sky, not you. “just accurate.”
you frowned, confused. “what do you mean?”
he rolled the cigarette between his fingers. the ember glowed, dimmed.
“you're right,” he said. “i am all talk.”
you stared at him. “but you…”
“but me nothing.” he cut in, shoulders lifting in a lazy half shrug. “i flirt. i run my mouth. never took it anywhere.”
your brain tried to slot this into the image you had formed of him. it did not fit. dabi, with his sharp tongue and his heavy stare and his casual dirtiness, not taking it anywhere.
“never?” you repeated softly.
his smile twisted. “what, that so hard to believe?”
you opened your mouth. closed it. opened it again. “i just… assumed.”
“yeah.” he finally looked at you, head tilted. “everyone does.”
there was no pity in his voice. no shame. just a flat, simple truth, laid out between you.
you felt bad for a second. for poking at him, for underestimating the possibility that he had layers under the flirting, that some of it might be defense instead of hunger.
“…so you're a virgin,” you said, the word feeling strangely big in your mouth.
he snorted, smoke curling from his lips. “say it louder, why don’t ya?”
you flushed. “sorry.”
“relax.” he waved it off. “not a big deal.”
“it isn't,” you agreed quickly. and it wasnt. you meant that. it just… did not match the way he always acted. “so all those lines…”
“practice,” he said. “hypotheticals. wishful thinking. take your pick.”
something in your chest unclenched, slowly.
“so under all that,” you murmured, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. “you're just… kinda inexperienced.”
“wow,” he drawled. “really laying into me tonight.”
you risked another glance at him. “you started it.”
“by existing?” he shot back. “which, by the way, would be a lot easier if you didn't look at me like that when i say stuff.”
you blinked. “like what?”
“like i hung the moon or some shit.”
your cheeks burned. you hid your face against your knee again.
“i don't,” you mumbled, voice muffled.
“you kinda do,” he said, amused. “don't worry. i'm into it.”
you hesitated. the little seed of knowledge sat between you now, warm and potent. he flirted because it was easier than admitting he didn't know what came next. he poked at you because it made you react, because it filled the spaces where he didn't want to think too hard.
“so,” you said quietly, words careful. “all bark, no bite.”
he shot you a look. “keep talking, quiet girl. see what happens.”
“you wouldn't know what to do with me...” you replied before you could stop yourself.
the rooftop went very still.
his flames flickered higher for a heartbeat, then settled. he set the cigarette down on the ledge, crushing it out with deliberate, slow pressure.
“you sure about that?” he asked, voice low.
you swallowed. you felt small, tucked up beside him, knees pulled to your chest. but there was something buzzing under your skin now, some strange courage that only showed up around him.
“you're the one who said you've never done anything,” you said, keeping your tone soft, almost sing song. “just talking. no follow through.”
he stared at you, eyes dark in the low light.
“want me to prove you wrong?” he asked.
the words should have sounded like another empty line. they did not. there was a rough edge to them. a nervousness he was trying to smother.
your heart thudded.
you shifted, uncurling your legs, turning to sit cross legged so you were facing him more. your hands smoothed over your knees, something to do.
“how?” you asked.
his gaze flicked to your mouth. once. twice. he licked his own lower lip like it had suddenly gone dry.
“you really gonna make me say it?” he muttered.
you let the tiniest hint of a smile show. “maybe i like hearing you talk.”
he huffed, almost a laugh. his hand lifted, hovered for a second, then dropped, landing on the concrete between you. he scooted closer, slow, like he was approaching some skittish animal.
“come here, then,” he said.
you didn't move.
he quirked a brow. “shy now?”
“i'm always—” he cuts you off,
“yeah.” his eyes softened, just a fraction. “that's why i like you.”
the confession sat there, unembellished.
your chest tightened. you found yourself inching toward him without really deciding to. the distance between you shrank until your knees bumped his thigh, until you could feel the heat rolling off his skin.
his hand lifted again. this time, he didn't hesitate as much. his fingers brushed your chin, rough and warm. stitched skin dragged gently along the soft line of your jaw.
“last chance to back out and go back to calling me a liar,” he murmured.
you looked up at him through your lashes. your throat felt dry. your heart had gone all fluttery and delicate, like it was trying to escape through your ribs.
“you're the one who said you wanted to prove it...” you whispered back.
his mouth crooked. “smart mouth for someone who hardly talks.”
“only when it is you,” you said.
that did something to him. you saw it. the way his eyes flared. the way his breath hitched.
“yeah,” he said quietly. “me too.”
his hand slid from your chin to cup the side of your face, thumb resting near the corner of your mouth. he leaned in, slow enough that you could meet him, slow enough that you could pull away.
your eyes fluttered shut as the space between you shrank to a breath, to a heartbeat, to the barest brush of his lips against yours.
the first contact was tentative. unsure. he pressed his mouth to yours in a soft, careful line, test and answer wrapped together. you could feel the tension in him, the way his fingers flexed against your skin like he was holding himself back from bolting or grabbing you closer.
you tilted your head, just slightly, nudging more firmly into him. your hand found his wrist, not to push him away, but to hold on.
he made a small sound into your mouth. half surprise, half relief. it rolled through you like heat.
the second press of his lips was less careful. he angled in, closing the distance fully this time. the kiss stayed slow, stayed tentative, but there was more of him in it now. a hint of teeth when he caught your lower lip by accident. a tiny exhale when you sighed against him, relaxing in a way you had never managed in front of anyone else.
his thumb stroked along your cheek, clumsy and gentle. his other hand, the one on the concrete, crept closer until his fingertips brushed your knee.
you didn't realize you were shaking until he broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours. his breath fanned over your lips, warm and uneven.
“still think i'm all talk?” he asked, voice rough in the quiet.
your eyes stayed closed. you took a breath, then another, trying to get your thoughts to line up again.
“maybe,” you murmured. “need more data...”
he huffed a laugh, low and breathless. “yeah. figures.”
his nose bumped yours. his lips ghosted over your mouth again, a promise, an invitation.
“guess we have time to collect it,” he added, softer.
his hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. there was a faint tremor in his touch, betraying the nerves he refused to admit to. you leaned into it, into him, into the strange, fragile space that had just opened up between you on a rooftop that was suddenly too small for how full your chest felt.
જ⁀➴ (fade to black) you should’ve known keigo 'hawks' takami was up to something the second he texted:
keigo: pack a bag, bestie. international. no questions!
it took three more messages, one very chaotic phone call, and a threat to cancel his hero ranking fanclub before he actually sent the ticket. first class, middle of the week, a hotel you absolutely cannot afford on a teacher salary. and, as the subject line of the itinerary, in all caps:
keigo: BEST FRIEND ANNIVERSARY TRIP!
like he had just invented friendship on his own.
the flight is all soft clouds and his shoulder under your cheek when you doze off. he hogs the window. you hog the blanket. he steals the lime off your inflight drink, winks, says it suits him better, and you throw your napkin at his face. it feels like every other time you've been together, just with more legroom and a language you don't speak waiting at the other end.
the city he takes you to looks like a jewelry box spilled open. sunlit stone in the day, gold threaded through the sky at night. the hotel is stupidly nice, all clean lines and calm music and staff who definitely know who he is but try very hard to pretend they do not.
your room has a balcony.
of course it does.
dusk drapes itself over the city by the time you both end up out there, door slid shut behind you, muffling the sound of the air conditioner and distant hotel tvs. the sky is streaked mauve and orange, the buildings below dotted with lights one by one, like someone is slowly plugging stars into sockets.
keigo is leaning against the balcony rail, wind tugging at his hair and feathers. he looks like he belongs in the air, not pressed against concrete and glass, but he is here, with you, in sweatpants and a loose shirt with the sleeves pushed up, wrists bare, throat exposed.
you are holding two glasses of whatever he sweet talked the concierge into sending up. something sparkling, something that catches the last traces of sun and throws them back.
you pass him one. he clinks the rim of his glass against yours.
“to us,” he says, easy, playful. “longest relationship of my life.”
you snort. “please. you flirt with everyone.”
“yeah.” he tips his head toward you, eyes sliding over your face. “but i only book international trips for one.”
“romantic,” you mutter, taking a sip to hide your face. your heart stutters like it is trying to jump off the balcony. “i feel so special.”
“you should!” he leans his elbows on the rail, wings shifting behind him. “not everyone is brave enough to deal with me this long. i'm a handful.”
“you are twelve handfuls,” you correct. “minimum.”
“wow. you think about my hands a lot, huh?”
you choke on your drink.
he laughs, bright and delighted, eyes gleaming in the low light. “oh, come on. walked right into that one.”
“you are the worst,” you wheeze, swiping at your mouth.
“you love me,” he says, so casually it hurts.
you swallow, throat suddenly dry. you aim for light. “i do...”
his gaze snags on your face at that. there is a tiny hitch, like he caught something he was not expecting. his feathers rustle, soft, unsettled.
“yeah?” he asks. quieter now.
you look out over the city, pretending you do not feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing. the breeze lifts your hair, cool on the back of your neck.
“yeah,” you say. “you're my best friend.”
there it is. the line you always nudge, never quite cross. the safe word you both hide behind. keigo takes a slow sip of his drink. his profile is sharp in the fading light, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.
“best friend,” he echoes.
“that a problem, kei?”
he shakes his head, smiling crooked. “nope. just funny.”
“what's funny?”
“how you say it like it explains everything.”
you frown, turning to face him more fully. “doesn’t it?”
he turns too, so your bodies angle toward each other. his wings shift to make room, red quills cutting the dim. he sets his glass down on the balcony ledge, fingertips lingering on the stem for a second longer than necessary.
“we flirted the day we met,” he says, tone light but eyes very much not. “do you remember?”
you roll your eyes. “you flirted. with everyone. you hit on aizawa.”
“i did not hit on aizawa,” he protests. “i complimented his hair. different!”
“you told him you liked a man with good bedhead.”
he grins, unrepentant. “and he glared at me. which honestly made it better.”
“you're lucky he didn't throw you out the window.”
“i would have flown back up for you.”
your breath catches before you can stop it.
his smile softens, something tender pulling at the edges.
“that first day,” he goes on, voice smoothing out. “you walked into the briefing room late, hiccupped mid sentence, and still had the guts to sass endeavor to his face. i thought, ‘yeah. i could get in trouble with this one.’”
“and you have,” you point out, trying very hard to sound normal.
“mhm.” he nods, lazy. “so worth it.”
the air between you feels different all of a sudden. thicker. charged in a way that has nothing to do with altitude.
“keigo,” you start, warning threaded through his name.
“what?” he asks, all innocence, stepping closer. “i can't talk about my favorite person on our anniversary trip?”
“you keep calling it that like it's a real holiday.”
“it is now.” his grin tilts. “we can make out under the fireworks every year or something.”
your brain snags on make out, sparks flying noisily inside your skull.
“there are no fireworks,” you say, a little too fast.
“not yet.”
you narrow your eyes. “you are being so obnoxious.”
“i am being soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo obvious,” he corrects softly.
you look up at him properly then. really look. the way his pupils have blown just a bit wider. the way his posture has shifted, easygoing slouch straightening into something almost sharp. the way his wings have gradually spread out, tips curving in a little, subtly hemming you in.
“you have been so obvious for years,” you say, heart kicking at your ribs. “nothing ever changes.”
he hums. his hand comes up, slow enough that you could move away if you wanted. fingers brush a strand of hair back from your face, knuckles grazing your cheek, lingering at the hinge of your jaw.
you don't move.
his touch is warm, calloused in places where feathers meet skin.
“are you sure about that?” he asks.
you swallow, the word stuck somewhere between your chest and your mouth. “you're my best friend.”
“i know.” he steps closer again. your backs nearly touch the balcony wall now. “annnnd?”
“and.” your voice thins. you hate that he can do this to you with just a look. “you're a flirt.”
“with you,” he says. “mostly with you.”
“you flirt with baristas.”
“to get free extra syrup!!” he counters. “you get entire vacations!”
your laugh comes out shaky. “this is extortion.”
“this is priority seating,” he says, lips curving. “don’t pretend you don't like it.”
his fingers slide from your jaw to rest under your chin, a light hook, tipping your face up. his other hand plants itself on the balcony railing beside your hip, caging you in even more.
you can see the tiny flaws in him from here. the small scar near his eyebrow. the faint dark circles under his eyes that the world pretends not to notice because he smiles so pretty. the way his gaze keeps dipping to your mouth like he is fighting himself and mostly losing.
your pulse thunders.
“keigo,” you murmur, and it sounds like a question and a warning and something halfway to a plea.
“yeah?” his voice has dropped, roughened
“what are you doing ?”
“collecting.”
you blink. “collecting what?”
his thumb strokes once along the soft line of your chin
“interest,” he says. “on all the things we never did.”
heat rolls through you in a slow wave.
“you're being dramatic,” you manage.
“you flew across an ocean with me for a made up anniversary,” he says. “you aren't allowed to talk to me about dramatic.”
his wings shift again. feathers brush the balcony wall on either side of you, a soft rustle. if you lean back even an inch, you'll feel their edges.
“you could have brought anyone,” you say, quieter now. “you know that.”
he studies you for a long, long moment. the city hums beneath you, lights blinking, traffic a distant ocean.
“no...” he says finally. “i really couldn’t.”
your chest squeezes around the words.
you look away, toward the skyline, because it feels too raw to hold his gaze. his thumb tips your face back insistently.
“hey,” he murmurs. “don’t go hiding on me now.”
“i'm not hiding,” you lie.
“you always do this,” he says. “we get close to the edge and you joke, and i joke, and we dance back. it's cute. i like the dance. but...”
he leans in, until his breath brushes your lips.
“i brought you here because i was kind of hoping we would jump instead.”
your heart flips clean over.
“and if i don't want to jump?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper
he smiles, small and crooked, nothing like the big public grin he wears for cameras. this one is just for you.
“then i'll tease you about it,” he says lightly. “and we'll watch movies in this ridiculously expensive room and eat too much room service and i'll pretend i didn't buy a stupidly nice dress in your size that's hanging in the closet.”
your eyes widen. “you did not.”
“check the tag later.” he shrugs. “or you know. stay in my hoodie. i am def good either way.”
his thumb shifts, brushing the corner of your mouth now.
“i love you either way,” he adds, slip soft.
your breath catches. he freezes like he did not mean to say it that plainly.
there is a tiny beat of silence where you could run. you could laugh it off, shove it back into the box labeled dangerous and pretend you did not hear that shit. it's what you've both done, in smaller ways, for years.
you don't move.
“say that again,” you whisper.
his eyes search yours, checking, double checking, more serious than you think you have ever seen him.
“i love you,” he says. no joke this time. no wink to cushion the blow.
your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt, grabbing at him. “then stop hovering,” you breathe. “and jump.”
something in his expression cracks wide open.
the hand under your chin slides back to cradle your jaw. the other leaves the rail, palm slapping against the wall by your head as he steps fully into your space, pinning you gently between his body and the cool surface. his wings flare and curl in, red and sharp and sheltering, blocking out the sight of anything that is not him.
his mouth finds yours in the next heartbeat.
the kiss hits like that first drop on a roller coaster, stomach swooping, air punched out of your lungs in a single, dizzy rush. his lips are warm, plush, tasting faintly of fruit and champagne and something that has lived in your imagination for far too long.
he kisses you like he's rehearsed it, in daydreams between patrols and in the quiet minutes before sleep. confident, sure, but with an edge of something hungry around the edges, like he's holding back more than he should.
your hands fist in his shirt, dragging him closer, swallowing the small sound he makes when you answer him with teeth, with the pent up push and pull of every flirt that never went anywhere.
his fingers flex against your jaw, angling your face exactly where he wants it. the wall is solid at your back. he is solid at your front. his wings curve around you both, feathers brushing your shoulders, your hair, a soft, enclosing rustle. the outside world blurs to city glow and distant sound.
when he finally pulls back, he doesn't go far. his nose bumps yours, foreheads touching. his thumb traces the swollen edge of your lower lip like he can't believe he did that, like he's already greedy for more.
his pupils are wide, “okay,” he breathes, a little laugh hidden in the exhale. “yeah. cool. that was… that was better than the versions in my head.”
you huff, feeling oddly unsteady. “how many versions are we talking?”
“classified,” he says, grinning, soft and shaken. “hero secret.”
his hand leaves your jaw to cup the side of your neck instead, thumb feeling for your pulse point, like he wants proof you are real and right here and his now, in a way you weren’t before.
“so...” he murmurs, voice low, lips brushing your cheek as he talks. “this mean i get upgraded from best friend to something with… more kissing?”
“you are still my best friend,” you say, and his smile brightens, quick.
“yeah?” he asks.
“yeah,” you confirm. your fingers toy with the fabric at his collar, tugging him just a little closer again. “just with… benefits.”
he groans dramatically, dropping his forehead to your shoulder for a second like he is overwhelmed by the gift he has been given.
you feel him smile against your throat, breath warm where it ghosts over your skin.
“no boyfriend? you're going to destroy me,” he says into your neck, words muffled,
you laugh, a little shaky. “you are sooo needy and for what? you need to be happy i even gave you benefits!”
he pulls back just enough to look at you properly, eyes half-lidded, pupils dark and wide. his thumb is still pressed over your pulse, like he can feel each skip.
“oh?” he murmurs, mouth curving slow. “is that an offer?”
your face heats. “keigo.”
“no, i just want to be clear,” he teases, leaning in until his nose brushes yours. “first kiss. first time we stop pretending we’re just flirting. first time…” he trails off, gaze dropping to your lips, voice dropping with it. “first time we see where this really goes. that what you’re putting on the table, princess?”
your fingers curl tighter in his shirt. he really is going to be the death of you.
“yeah,” you say, breath catching. “if ... you want it.”
he exhales, like you just handed him the keys to your city.
“been wanting it since before i knew what to call it,” he admits, soft and a little raw. then his grin tilts, wicked at the edges. “best friend anniversary seems like a pretty good excuse to start, don’t 'cha think?”
he barely waits for your huffed laugh before he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, all the careful edges burned away. his mouth moves against yours like he finally let himself be hungry. your back presses harder into the balcony wall, his body crowding in, wings curling tighter around you until the world shrinks to red feathers and the rasp of his voice between kisses.
“we should… probably not make out on an open balcony,” you manage between breaths, though you don’t exactly try to pull away.
he hums against your mouth, obviously not bothered. “worried about the view?”
“worried about you getting us both trending,” you whisper, nipping at his lower lip.
he laughs, low and pleased, and the sound goes straight through you.
“guess we better take this inside then,” he says.
he peels one hand away from your neck just long enough to slide the balcony door open behind you. the cool air from the room rushes out, brushing over sweat-damp skin. his wings shift, folding in enough to let him walk you backward, step by slow step, his mouth never quite leaving yours.
you bump into the little table, into the edge of the plush chair, into his chest when he hooks an arm around your waist and lifts you just enough to set you down where he wants you. each clumsy little collision makes you both laugh into the kiss, heat and fondness tangling up into a bundle of nerves
“finally, finallyyyy, ” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours for a heartbeat, his hand splayed warm and steady at your hip.
you look up at him, at the boy who became your favorite person without asking permission, the man who flew you across an ocean just for an excuse to finally stop running from the obvious.
“shut up and kiss me, keigo,” you say, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, feeling muscle twitch under your touch. “or are you all talk?”
his eyes flare, bright and hungry.
“oh, that’s it,” he breathes, laughing, and then his mouth is on yours again, his weight braced over you as the balcony door swings gently shut on its track.
the city lights stay outside, blurred behind glass, while inside the room the world narrows to tangled limbs and soft, breathless sounds, to his hands roaming every part of you like he’s been waiting his whole life to get his dna on you. his hoodie ends up somewhere on the chair, your shirt joins it, the air sweet with hotel soap and his cologne and the warmth of two people finally, finally stepping over a line they drew themselves.
it's a regular friday evening for you. weaving through carts and the chatter of people around you, you stand in front of the pastry section of your local grocery store when your phone suddenly rings. you pout as your attention is captured by the vibrations coming from the pocket of your coat, but your eyes widen a fraction before pressing accept once you see the name flashing across your screen.
you hold up your phone to your ear, peering back up at the desserts in front of you as you answer
"dabi? is something wrong?"
dabi doesn't usually call you. he prefers face to face communication more than anything, and that's also why you rarely ever receive any text messages from him, too. he seems to be somewhere crowded as well, hence the muffled sound of voices in the background of his call—and it's silent on his end for a few seconds before he speaks
"hey," he breathes
"hi." you grin, shoulders relaxing once you hear he doesn't seem to be in trouble. you turn away from the desserts in front of you and play with the strap of your purse idly instead
"what's up? you don't usually call me out of the blue like this," you laugh softly, and dabi lets out a huff of amusement as he stays quiet. from where he's standing, only a few aisles over, he can see your eyes—can see your face—and he feels calm again. whole again.
"nothing. 'm just bored. what are you up to?" he says as casually as he can manage, shifting on his feet as he watches you shake your head with a small smile
"just grocery shopping. hey... do you think you'll be able to visit this weekend? i dunno if i should buy enough food for one or for two." you joke, and while your voice sounds easygoing and relaxed through the speaker pressed against his ear—dabi sees the way you bite your lip in apprehension after you voice the question, sees the way your fingers drum against the handle of the shopping cart in front of you nervously, sees the hopeful gleam in your eyes as you await his response—
"don't think so. don't bother buying anything for me, doll."
—and he sees your shoulders drop with disappointment in real time as well. he holds the phone close to his ear as he waits for your response
"oh... well, that's alright."
his grip on the phone is a little tighter now. the crease between your brows is one he wants to smooth out, the look in your eyes one that makes his breathing turn a bit uneven, but he remains composed all the same as he speaks
"got a mission that starts tonight, actually. it's a pretty big one so i'm gonna be held up for longer than usual."
you stay quiet, a small hum sounding through his ear, and he watches you roll your cart forward with slow steps. your lips part as if you're about to say something, and dabi waits with bated breath before he hears your voice come to life against his ear again
"promise you'll come home after your mission? no matter how late it is?" you ask quietly, and a quiet exhale slips past his lips as he watches the way your eyes remain ever hopeful
"...alright. i promise."
dabi swears up and down that his heart grew three sizes at the way your face lit up at his words. you roll the cart forward with a greater pep in your step now, and he pushes himself off the wall he'd been leaning against once he sees you're walking in his direction. he turns his back towards you before pulling the hood around his head tighter, and his feet naturally take him towards the back exit of the store.
dabi was strictly told he wasn't allowed to go out in public. he was far too recognizable with his scars, and as one of the most wanted criminals in all of japan—he was risking everything by walking into your town's local grocery store so casually. it would take a bystander less than five minutes to alert the authorities and call a hero over, but he wasn't thinking rationally as the compelling urge to simply see you took over his better judgement.
he missed you, missed you so much that he tracked you down just to watch you from afar in a pitiful attempt to soothe his aching heart desperate for something. and seeing you now? seeing you now makes all the danger and the earful he's sure to receive from kurogiri and shigaraki when he returns worth it.
"uhm, you don't have to say yes if you know you'll be too busy, but... do you think you could—i mean, if you'd like to—call me again tonight? i just missed hearing your voice, 's all."
his steps slow to a stop in front of the employee's exit door of the store. there's no one around to see the way his jaw clenches at your words, no one there to see the way his lips twitch with all the unspoken things he wants to voice—a moment later, he braces one hand against the metal door in front of him, and it groans under his weight as he pushes it open and continues walking outside
"if i'm free, i'll give you a call."
he's lying, he's going to carve out time for you tonight with his bare hands if he must—but of course, dabi isn't going tell you that.
"okay." you say softly
"okay." he echos
"i love you."
he stays silent, half contemplating if he should pretend he didn't hear you and just quickly end the call—but your voice comes through the phone again
"—and don't wear yourself out too much! i want you coming back home in one piece, please."
before dabi can even begin to try and string together enough words to form a coherent response for you, the call ends with a gentle ping! and he's left standing with a dry mouth and pinched brows. the sun beating down is unnerving on his skin, and he ducks to find somewhere shady to rest as his heart beats erratically against his chest, almost like it knew you were nearby and wanted to push past his ribcage and find your hands to rest in instead.
dabi doesn't have to wait for much longer before you're eventually done shopping. he watches you walk out of the grocery store half an hour later with your groceries in hand as you haul them into your car and drive home. he follows you, just to make sure you walk through your front door safely—all before he finally begins his trek back to the league's hideout.
there's a hundred thoughts in his head that make his chest feel tight, almost unbearably so—but the reminder that he'll hear your voice again tonight ceases the discord in his mind, and he's able to calm the storm in his heart for a little while longer.
izzy806
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
amandla
gamechangershow
