Iwaizumi Hajime dragging your fingernails slowly against his skin, or under his shirt makes him go feral. How you whisper such vulgar words so that itâs heard by only him, how your hair slightly brushes against his face, how your sweet scent skims his nose. He tries his hardest to control whatever heâs feeling, to not fall prey to your teasing but fails. And that failure always ends up with him slamming into you.
Suna Rintarou something about you sitting on his lap breaks his whole stoic demeanor. The way your thighs are perfectly seated on his, right above his crotch, feeling your wetness seep through, makes him loose his cool. Oh and the way you slowly start grinding on him, and the only words ever leaving your mouth being âplease Rinâ and âneed youâ has him crumbling right under you.
Sakusa Kiyoomi he has a sensitive neck and you know it. Thatâs why every time you kiss his neck, he looses his mind. The way you get outta breadth, the way you hold his collar or hair for a much better grip, the way your thighs press against him ; has his fingers automatically find your clothed clit and rub slow circles onto it. Hearing your sighs and moans in between is a huge bonus for him.
Kuroo Tetsurou pull his hair. Just do it. Cause god will this man be on his knees if you do that. Heâs got that thick raven hair for a reason. Every time, even if itâs just a make out session, if and when you tug at his hair, he goes mad crazy. And as you do that, his lips travel all the way down your body and to between your thighs. He swears he could drown there for the rest of his life.
Bokuto Koutaro needy and sloppy kisses makes this him weak to his knees. Your lips are intoxicating, and itâs like a drug ; youâre like a drug heâs addicted to. And that addiction will continue forever. Your kisses tend to make him float above cloud nine. And heâs not one to hesitate in showing off all the love bites and marks you gave him to his teammates.
Matsukawa Issei the way your thighs clench around his neck and keep him in place when heâs eating you out. He loves your thighs, he just does, donât argue (cause youâve got beautiful thighs). They suffocate him in a way that has him coming undone. And once heâs finished with eating you out, he takes a moment to adore your thighs even more as it is now covered in nothing but red and purple marks. âSexyâ he thinks.
you didnât even realise that as you stared at him longingly he was looking right back, only breaking your trance to lean forward and tell you, âkeep staring at me like that, iâll kiss you till you see starsâ
You and Kuroo rarely ever fought. Most of the time when you two did, it would always end with laughter, none of the bickering ever being serious. But when it was serious it stressed him out more then heâll ever admit.
You were one of the only things in his life that he was always sure would be permanent. Deep down though he couldnât help but be afraid that a few careless words would be what took you away from him. Thatâs why he was always sure to listen, to hear what you have to say, and to get it resolved as quickly and as peacefully as possible. However, this fight was different. It was worse and not so easily fixed.
There had been some tension over the past fee days. The volleyball season had just started up again, which meant Kuroo was at work later than usual. The two of you had always had your own way of managing this together, but he was just so much more busy than he had been in the past. He was coming home tired and late all week, and you found it hard to reach him. He made promises to you that it was just a one time thing and that it wouldnât happen tomorrow night. And he had every intention on keeping those promises, but his job made it impossible.
You knew it wasnât his fault but it was just so hard being so suddenly knocked out of your routine. You wanted your time with him back. When he got home late again, around 11pm, he arrived to you waiting in the living room. Itâs not like you were trying to start a fight, but both of your voices gradually got louder until the whole thing erupted into something so much bigger. In the end, Kuroo had nothing left to say to you, which resulted in you sitting on the porch.
Almost 45 minutes had passed and you were still out there. It was 12:22 and Kuroo had only just now gotten a chance to take off his jacket and tie. Anything else had to wait until he figured out a way to make things right with you. He dropped himself onto the couch with his face in his hands. He hated fighting with you. Raising his voice at you. It made him feel horrible, causing a harsh empty feeling in his stomach. To see you so upset with him put a lump in his throat.
He stepped outside of the door to see you resting your head on your knees that you had pulled up into a chair. When you heard him come out, you lowered your legs but made no move to get up. You didnât even spare him a look. For a moment he just stood there. There was a horrible silence that had settled between you. He looked at his shoes before he sighed and approached you. You were still looking at the ground.
He longed for you to look at him. To look him in the eyes even if it was with anger. He kneeled down in front of you and spoke much gentler than he had before.
âKittenâŠy/n Iâm so sorry. You were right about before. I know that for the past few days I havenât been home muchâŠâ
Slowly, he watched you raise your head and he could finally see your eyes. They were red from being rubbed at too much, a bad habit that he was usually around to stop. He saw also that your cheeks were damp. He sighed and placed his hands on your knees.
âI donât want things to be like this either. Thereâs nothing more that I want at the end of the day than to come home to you. I know how hard this is for us and I shouldnât have yelled at you for itâŠIâm sorry. Please work with me through this.â
The tears that you were trying to keep in started to come out again. You put your hands in his and apologized as well.
âIâm sorry too, Tetsu. This is just as hard for you- I shouldnât have- have yelled either.â You didnât want to but you started to cry even harder, small sobs coming from your mouth.
Kuroo lifted you out of the chair, sitting down himself and placing you in his lap. He held your hand as you cried into the side of his neck.
âShh..shh. Itâs okay, love. Itâs okay.â
Every fight and argument couldnât always end with laughs, but as long as they were the only thing ending, Kuroo would be okay with it.
He hadnât felt like this in a long time. As a matter of fact, he was almost sure he had left these mood swings behind in high school, but maybe he was wrong.
Bokuto had seen you this morning right before he left for practice, yet he missed you so much it was almost unbearable. When he had gotten to the gym that morning, he already knew he was feeling off. He tried to push through the day but it only got harder as it went on. His performance was fine. Just fine. But he felt an increasing need to be back home with you.
When their coach finally blew the whistle, he couldnât get to the locker rooms fast enough. He showered, changed, packed his gym bag, and was on his way home in less than 20 minutes. You were still at work when he got there, which was undoubtedly disappointing, but he was still starting to feel better knowing he was closer to seeing you. He watched something on TV and buried himself under blankets on the couch to distract himself while he waited.
The door knob jiggled as you unlocked the door and he immediately hopped off the couch when he heard it.
âKo? Iâm-â
Before you could even announce that you were home, Bokuto swallowed you in a hug, almost lifting you off the ground.
âHi, baby.â he spoke into the crook of your neck.
âHi, baby.â You laughed as you relaxed into his hug. You tried to pull away to look at his face, but he only hugged you tighter.
âKo, are you-â You tried to ask if he was okay but he kissed you before the words could come out. He grabbed the sides of your face firmly at first, but his touch became softer. He was much taller than you, so he tilted your head back in order to kiss you deeper. When he finally pulled away for air, it didnât last long.
âMâ okay.â He spoke quickly before he kissed you again. âJust missed you.â
You placed your hands on the sides of his face and stroked his cheekbones gently. âI missed you too.â You both smiled at each other before Bokuto was right back on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back just as hard. He kissed you for so long that you could barely breathe. You felt yourself getting dizzy, but you really had missed him today, although not as much as he did you.
The athlete never even gave you a chance to get out of the doorway. He walked you backwards until you felt your back hit the wall, never breaking the kiss. You felt his tongue licking your bottom lip, but you broke away before he went any further.
âKo, can I get changed now?â You were both out of breath. He placed his forehead on yours and you laughed together. You could feel his hands rubbing your hips through your clothes. âHmmâŠin a second.â You rolled your eyes but you let him kiss you again anyways. And again. And again. You let him keep kissing you until you felt his tongue slide against yours. Until he lifted one of your thighs and wrapped it around his waist. And you kept letting him kiss you after that too.
AN: yall idk if my writing is getting better or worse.Â
warnings: gn!reader, angst, blood, fighting, curse words, suggestive (?) at the end
WC: 1.2k
Often times during P.E. you would notice how Dabi struggled. There were some days where his athletic performance would be top notch, almost like a pro. Then there were days where he could barely get through a full lap without struggling to catch his breath. This struggle was obvious but no one ever mentioned it. Everyone in class knew how damaging his quirk was on his body. However, it was high school, and kids- especially teenage boys, could be cruel.
When it was first announced that you would all be playing volleyball he was surprisingly enthusiastic. He was always ambitious, trying to prove to everyone that he wasnât weak and that he could be good at anything he did. He immediately wanted a position that was exciting like a spiker, but it became painfully obvious that he couldnât fully handle it. There were moments where he couldnât quite reach the ball in time, or worse, moments where he would be forced to watch it fall, so out of breath that he was wheezing and his lungs squeezed when he tried to move.
Even though it was only P.E. class and you got an A just for showing up, the guys in your class took it way too serious. Every time Dabi would be on their team and the ball would hit the floor, they would get pissed. It would turn into screaming matches that were so bad the coach had to bench them for the rest of class. On a particularly bad day, he was so frustrated with himself and so done with this class that he was barely even trying. You wanted to go and grab him water. You wanted to go up to him, to ask if he was okay, but you didnât want him to think you were pitying him. You didnât want him to lash out at you. The tension radiating off of everyone on your team was already making things bad enough.
For the third time that match, Dabi watched the ball drop, making no moves to keep it in the air. When coach blew the whistle you started to walk up to him but someone else made it before you. One of the other boys had marched up behind him and snatched him by the back of his shirt.
âWhat the fuck is your problem? If you donât know how to play the fucking game then just go sit down.â
Dabi pushed the other kid away from him so hard that he stumbled back, almost tripping over his own feet. Â You could tell he was fuming from his facial expression alone, but the smoke coming off of him made it even more obvious. The boy jumped back at Dabi and they crashed onto the floor. Punches were thrown and both boys were beaten up pretty badly. It was you who pulled the bigger one off of Dabi. Two younger ones helped the white haired boy off the floor, although he could barely even stand.
Most of the yelling from your coach was directed towards the one who started the argument, but once he was finally done you were ordered to take Dabi to the nurse, while the other boy was taken to the office.
When you exited the gym he tried to walk away from you, but you grabbed his arm quickly.
âWhere are you going?â
âI donât need a nurse.â He wasnât looking at you when he spoke. When you stepped in front of him you saw how much he was bleeding. There was so much coming from his lips and nose that it was traveling down his throat.
âYes you do!â
âNo!â
He tried to pull his arm away from you but you werenât going to give up. It was unusual for you to be so brave around him but your worry outweighed fear.
âPlease? Iâll fix it myself if you donât want a nurse!â
He looked at you with anger at first, then shock, then annoyance. He was going through several stages of grief.
âCome on!â You said as you pulled him down the halls. He groaned something about you being so fucking annoying but you ignored him.
When you found the nurses office it was thankfully empty. You sat him down and he watched you get what you needed. It was silent but not uncomfortable. His blood was wiped away with tissues and cotton pads first, then you wiped his busted lip with an alcohol pad. The only sign he showed of pain was the tiniest twitch of his eyebrow. You assumed he was used to this kind of thing.
It was so strange to be in this situation. You lifted his chin and shifted his face to clean the spots you needed to and he surprisingly didnât complain. You would have expected him to tell you to stop or smack your hand away, but he sat there quietly and stared at random spots on the wall.
The only other time you two had been this close was when you kissed, and even then he had barely let you touch him. Still, he was sweet to you then. He had wiped your tears away and walked behind you to class. The teasing and bullying still went on afterwards, but you noticed it was lighter. Despite that though, the two of you never really talked about what happened.
When you turned his head back, Dabi slowly grinned up at you. âYâknow you looked real pissed earlier when you pulled that guy off me. I thought the coach would have to pull you off of him for a second.â
Heat rose up your neck when you made eye contact with him. âWell- he was being an asshole. I didnât want him to- I couldnt just-â
âWhat? You didnât like me gettin hurt?â His smirk only grew wider as he raised an eyebrow at you. You stood in front of him with your mouth open, unable to let any words out. The first aid had come to a stop as you pulled your hands off him and started to put everything away.
âI just- I mean obviously I donât!â As you tried to explain yourself, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back in between his legs.
âNo need to s-s-stutter. Mâ only teasing.â He held both of your hands in front of him and you let your head fall. You donât know why you were ever nice to this tyrant. He laughed at the way you sighed and let his hands fall to your waist.
The blush on your face only got worse. It was so hard to resist this. You placed your hands on his shoulders but still found it difficult to look at him.
âWhat are y- what are weâŠdoing?â
âI dunnoâŠâ he shrugged his shoulders and motioned to all the things you had used to patch him up, âwhat are you doing?â
You glanced at the balled up wipes and cotton and then finally met his eyes.
âItâs kinda fucked up to have a crush on your bully y/nâŠâ
You gasped at this and lightly smacked his shoulder.
âYeah well itâs kinda fucked up to bully the person you have a crush on!â
Dabi laughed and tightened his grip on your waist. He stood up finally, towering over and looking down at you. For a few seconds he stared into your eyes, the eye contact making you nervous. He leaned in close with his lips brushing against your ear.
âItâs even more fucked up that you like it.â
tags: NSFW, friends to lovers, GN reader, Dabi POV, pre-LOV, implied PTSD, mention of child abuse, angst, hurt/comfort, blood, spit, unprotected sex, emotional sex, no power dynamic
âLet me cook for you, you look as if the wind will blow you over," you'd said.
After unlocking the door to your apartment you motion for him to step in, smiling easily as you go like you weren't welcoming a criminal into your home. He wonders what your neighbours mustâve been thinking as you passed them in the foyer with him on your tail.
He doesn't know what he expected your place to look like. It feels as if heâs standing in the middle of a staged living room, like heâs here to view a space and decide then if he wants it for himself. The image of you in the kitchen in your little apron is so domestic it steals his breath away. Somewhere deep down he yearns for that life with you, one where he isnât scarred or defective and you wake him with a good morning kiss. The idea is so out of reach it makes him laugh.
âSomething funny?â
âJust your apron,â he half lies. You chuckle and hold out your arms, giving him a full body spin, landing on your cocked hip. Itâs a dumb piece of fabric, frilled straps and washed out white with âI like big bunsâ in large font across your chest.
âSilly, isnât it?â Well, at least you thought so too. âReminds me of the one my grandmother used to wear. How about yours?â
A twist of his stomach. He doesnât want to talk about this.
âWouldnât know, never met her,â he dismisses as he falls back onto your sofa, the springs complaining underneath him with the sudden weight.
âDonât you speak to your family?â You ask carefully from the stove top, meeting his eyes over the quaint window in the wall between the two rooms. Family was a topic neither of you ever touched upon.
âThey think Iâm dead,â he shrugs, eyes casting over the framed pictures dotted around the place. Didnât even fucking look, he thinks.
âYou faked your death?â
âI didnât fake my death!â he scoffs, left hand reluctantly rising to push up his right sleeve and reveal the whispers of still smoke rising from his charred skin â...I just let them make assumptionsâ.
âI never heard about a kid killing himself with his quirk, though,â your eyebrows crease into a thoughtful frown. âSurely thatâs something that wouldâve been on the news?â
He swallows back the biting response. It wasnât your fault because you didnât know. Itâs true that it was uncommon for people to die by their own quirks even when they were incompatible because their parents would buy them prescribed support gear immediately. A story like his, especially being associated with a top hero, should have definitely been on the news.
âThatâs because they never reported it,â he responds blankly, forcing his tone flat to smooth out any crinkle that might indicate hurt. He didnât care, he didnât care, he didnât care.
âThey didnâtâŠâ
An agonising silence descends upon you both. He distantly remembers those first few weeks after heâd left home, how paranoid and exhausted he had been, countless nights spent awake listening for those imposing familiar footsteps. But they never came because they never looked.
He hears your stuttered exhale and glances in your direction, met with your expression of regret and your mouth forming around words that you donât know how to say. Youâve abandoned the simmering food to approach him, sitting yourself on the arm of the couch. If you were about to say sorry he might just combust. He didnât need pity, he didnât want it and especially not from you.
âYour family are... dicksâ.
Itâs unexpected. He snorts shortly before catching himself, hand flying up to cover his mouth to cover the grin threatening to spread across his lips. Relief replaces the sadness that had clouded your eyes and the atmosphere lightens.
âThat is one way of describing them,â he muses as he leans his head back over the lip of the sofa and sinks into the pillows. You seem to take his relaxed posture as a signal to sit closer.
âDo you want to talk about it?â You ask softly, one of your hands resting only an inch from his own on the seat cushion. He stares at the space in between and his pinky twitches, yearning to justâ
He swallows. He hadnât long been five years old when it first became obvious his quirk was hurting him. He'd been forced into the office of a sallow faced quirk doctor by his father. He remembers well the expression she wore, how her lips pursed, how her throat bobbed as she greeted him with regret. Heâd known then, intuitively, that it was over.
Betrayed by his own body. Heâd burnt so much that even his mothers soft hand stung, not that he often felt it anyway. He exhales, eyes falling closed. If he cared about you less he might actually be able to stomach telling you.
âNo,â he finally states and thankfully you respect it without pressing any further, returning to the food to begin plating up. He lingers uselessly, wondering if he should offer to help with anything, but you donât make any requests for him to do so.
âItâs nothing special, just grilled fish and rice,â you speak softly and quickly, rambling, as if youâre nervous. He seats himself at the table and you place the plate in front of him. âYou can eat fish, right?â
He nods, taking the chopsticks between his thumb and forefinger. It looks good, really good, he canât remember the last time he had a proper home cooked meal. You sit across from him anxiously watching, pupils flickering from his face to the food.
âWhat?â he glares, self conscious. An expression of âIâve been caughtâ flits across your features before you gaze down at your own food, chopsticks picking at the fish.
âI just wanted to see your reaction, wanted you to like it is all,â you murmur, eyelashes casting a shadow along the top of your cheeks. Heâs reminded again of how beautiful you are, how so much of your beauty is in the sincerity of your actions. With a shallow sigh he shovels a piece of fish and some rice into his mouth.
âItâs fine,â is all he says, and youâre happier for it. Itâs more than fine, he wants to say. I can taste your effort and your care and Iâm grateful for it, he wants to say. But he doesnât because that would make him vulnerable, that any more cracks might just shatter him and heâs afraid to know what might spill out.
Touya is an unreliable narrator in his own life, heâs aware. He could die and no one would know the full story, you were the only person heâd let get this close to it and you werenât even aware of that. It was frightening yet for some reason he wanted you to stumble upon it, wanted you to know so that it might relieve him of the pressure of hiding from you, so that he might finally have someone on his side.
That, or youâll leave him.
You eat together in comfortable silence after that. There are moments when your foot presses against his and it feeds the tension but neither of you acknowledge it. Plates clink together as he stacks them together upon finishing the meal, ignoring your pleas to let you clean it up yourself.
âYou cook, I clean,â he shrugs, glad his hair is long enough to hide the pink of his ears. âI am capable of washing a few dishesâ.
He puts them in the small sink and turns the tap, water awkwardly sputtering out before eventually beginning to run smoothly. He dips his hand under the stream to get started when he hears you curse.
âShit, wait, the water comes out hot at firstââ
He laughs. Youâre so fucking cute.
âI run 40 degrees on a good day, believe me Iâm fine,â he shakes his head with an amused smile, grimacing at the faint sting as the suds meet his sutures. Your mouth hangs open while you process his words, hand suspended in the air like you want to touch him.
God knows why but he indulges you, tilting his head toward you. With a little more care than necessary you lay your hand across his forehead like a mother might to their child and he finds himself glad that he lost the ability to cry. You skin is so much cooler than his, softer too, he feels beastly in comparison.
âDo⊠Do you get sick often?â you ask feebly, hand slowly slipping down to the curve of his cheek and cupping his jaw.
âThanks to my body temperature I donât get infections all that much,â he explains and turns slightly into your palm, desperate for the loving touch. âHave plenty of other problems, thoughâ.
His answer doesnât seem to placate you all that much. You scan the sutures lining his face and lightly stroke your thumb along the small titanium rings that tightly hold his skin together. Like a moth to a flame he finds himself drawn forward, not noticing until your nose brushes his, and he freezes in fear that he mightâve overstepped.
But you arenât moving, your eyes are heavy and your chin angled toward him like youâre waiting. Youâre waiting for him to kiss you, he realises.
Your lips are much smoother than your hands, he notes. His mouth slots seamlessly against yours, kissing you gently first like heâs giving you the chance to regret it, but you press back against him with enthusiasm that has a familiar spring coiling in his stomach. The kiss descends then into something fervent, his tongue parting your lips and his hand meeting the small of your back. You cling to him and he pulls you firmly against his front, drinking down your pleased whimper.
You grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him back into the main room toward what he guesses will be the bedroom. Your touch is dizzying and filling, youâre salacious when you breathe his name and it shakes him, a distant bittersweet feeling at the sound of his alias. He pulls back from you, committing the whining complaint you give and the way you chase his lips to memory.
He wants to, but he canât do it. He canât simply fuck you like he has others. He knows as soon as heâs had you heâll be ruined for anyone else, this isnât something he can have only once. You mean something to him, his feelings for you are so insurmountable he doesnât know where to put them, but he doesnât know what you want from him. Doesnât know if he deserves this, doesnât know if he could stomach your rejection.
You call his name, the sound acting as a prong collar around his throat.
âWhatâs wrong?â
âNothing,â he says.
âYouâre lying Dabi, itâs written all over your faceâ you shake and he can feel the weight of your stare as you search his expression for answers. Thereâs that name again.
His fathers words fester within him like an infection. After all, Touya has always been tender. Not tender like loving, tender like a bruise. Things that appear small and inconsequential, words that you mightnât think twice about, theyâll hurt a little more than they should. He wants to ask you what this means to you so your answer might get rid of this intolerable twisting mass that sits where his lungs should be. He wants you to clarify so there is no doubt for the stupid little voice in the back of his head to latch onto. But pride is a powerful thing, a difficult thing to let go of.
âPlease tell me what I did wrong,â you murmur, thumb rubbing circles into the back of his hand in a coaxing manner, âitâs alright if you donât want thisâ.
âYou didnât do anything wrong,â he says, his voice hoarse. He huffs a monotone laugh, stumbling past you to your bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress, elbows balanced on his knees in frustration.
âWhat the fuck does all this mean to you?â Touya asks the question through gritted teeth, ashamed by his insecurity and his reliance on your reassurance. He hears a quiet, barely there sound of surprise.
âIâŠâ
Your words trail off and there is silence. The disappointment and shame begins to settle itself into his bones and itâs more painful than he anticipated, really, he shouldâve been more prepared for this.
âI love you. Youâre important to meâ
Whatever heâd thought of as the best case scenario, it hadnât been that. Your confession barely registers, so far fetched it must be a joke.
Your fingers twitch like you want to reach for him but you think the better of it. He feels thoroughly beaten and he canât bring himself to meet your eyes, the first time since infancy that he has been loved and he canât accept it.
âDabiââ
âHow could you possibly love me?â he interrupts incredulously, hands clenched and trembling. âI have nothing to give you!â
Because thatâs right, isnât it? Love is conditional. Itâs conditional on what he can give you, how he can be of use to you, and he has nothing in his arsenal to offer. Heâs terrified of the sincerity on your face, you must be a brilliant liar, perhaps youâd been lying this entire time. He doesnât understand what about him you couldâve fallen in love with, he doesnât trust it. As if approaching a cornered animal you make yourself small and it irritates him. The veil has come down and his mask is cracked, youâve seen him for who he really is. Weak.
âLove isnât transactional. I donât love what you give me, I love you because youâre you," you sound so... sad.
âWell you shouldnât,â he snaps, voice raw and trembling. âIâm not a good personâ
âYouâre not a bad person, Dabi! Youâre hurtingââ
âYou canât fix me,â He interrupts, "I'm not a charity case". The thought that you might view him as something broken is nauseating, a distinct feeling of betrayal baring its fangs and sharpening his tongue. You come to a slow stop between his knees and he peers up at you, his chin level with your chest.
âI donât want to fix you, you arenât a thing to be fixed,â you tell him.
âThen what do you want from me?â He trembles as the anger subsides, it leaves him naked and flayed before you. To be vulnerable with you is revolting and yet relieving all at once. Itâs almost comedic how now, after years of begging to be looked at, you are here seeing him and heâs afraid of it.
âI donât want anything from you. I want to stay by your side, as a friend or as more if thatâs what you want, tooâ.
âThatâs all?â
âThatâs all,â you concede reassuringly.
âSounds like bullshit,â he rasps, grimacing at the sensation of blood welling up between the stitches by his eyes. He wishes he could cry.
âWell, I guess I would need you to kiss me every so often,â you muse, cautious but playful in just the same way youâd been when you first met. âMaybe even text me things other than pictures of stray cats?â
âYouâre lucky I even text you at all,â he jokes flatly.
âYeah,â you reply, âI amâ.
The bedroom is dark aside from the light of the hallway. It reflects back at him through your eyes, anticipation swoops into his lower stomach at the fondness youâre so openly bathing him in, and the obvious invitation behind it. He gives in.
âKiss me againâ
You nod, taking him by the wrists and guiding his hands to your waist. You cradle his face and bend forward toward him, bypassing his lips and littering his chin and cheeks with feather light kisses. The gesture makes his throat swell.
Impatient and overwhelmed he chases the path of your lips, a pleased hum radiating in his chest when your tongue teasingly flicks into his mouth, hot and wet. He tightens his grip on your waist and pulls, your knees dipping the mattress as you climb into his lap without preamble.
Determined, you coax him into the centre of the bed, hands slipping beneath the material of his jacket and sliding it down his shoulders. Without tearing his gaze from you he shucks it off and throws it over the side of the bed, touches growing more confident with each small sound you give him.
Beckoning him along with you as you settle back into the pillows, his forearms come to rest on either side of your head. He feels like heâs burning up but itâs different, nothing about it hurts, the heat engulfs him, it swaddles him and he feels held by it. Held by you. Touya presses his face into the underside of your jaw to lap your pulse, suckling the sensitive skin before abseiling down your neck and leaving soft wet kisses in his wake. Your hands run along the length of his arms, threading up into his hair, smoothing down the back of his shoulders and he pushes into it, his own fingers kneading into the plush of your hips much like a cat.
Hastily you push down your pants, shuffling awkwardly out of them and not caring where they end up. He distantly feels his hips rolling down into the mattress to relieve the throbbing of his cock as he pushes the hem of your shirt up, taking your nipple into his mouth. You suck in a sharp breath as you arch into him, back bowed beautifully, knees bending to clamp either side of his waist.
âDabi,â you mewl. He bristles.
âTouyaâ.
âHm?â You pause.
âMy name is Touya,â he winces at the break in his words and the quiver in his voice. He nips at the softness of your stomach to distract you both from the admission, tongue nearing the heat between your legs.
âTouya,â you say it slowly, like youâre testing how it feels in your mouth. Used to his name meaning a beating or an apology and now a forbidden word, he has never heard it said with so much affection before.
âAgain,â he groans, absentmindedly pulling at his belt buckle with one hand to get it undone, not wanting to tear his gaze away from your face. You clasp his chin between your fingers and heavy lidded you say it again.
Touya, an angered fist gloved in flame heading toward him. Touya, his mother, cowered on the floor where she couldn't look at him. Touya, his younger brother exhausted watching him cry in the middle of the night.
âTouya,â your palm cupping the back of his neck, eyes that truly see him accompanied by a loving smile. Those two things were not to be paired together, he thought, you're dangerous not him. You hold him impossibly close, acting as an anchor as he rolls his hips forward into yours, cock hardening against the material of his pants. A wounded sound reaches his ears before he realises it was him who made it, his palms mapping the curve of your hips and coming around to push open your legs, thumbs massaging your inner thighs.
âLook at you,â he marvels at how pliant youâre being, letting him touch and mould you as he likes. Saliva floods his mouth and he presses his fingers against his own tongue, your eyes following the spit cascading down his wrist. His hand slides further between your legs, hot and teasing, while the other promptly hooks your leg over his shoulder and he turns to press a kiss to the inside of your knee.
His fingers circle your entrance and you exhale deeply, hips lifting to meet him and he presses into you with ease, your head tilting backwards with a relieved moan like your body is telling him âfinally youâre hereâ and it leaves him dizzy. His blood quickens as you pulse around his intrusion and the thought of what you might feel like wrapped around his cock has him grinding against the heel of his palm.
Your fingers curl into the belt hoops of his jeans and tug, urging that he take them off and he certainly isnât going to argue with that. The relief is palpable when the air of the room hits his legs, kicking the material off into the corner while you enthusiastically pull the material of his shirt over his head.
Heâd been so ensnared by you that he hadnât even considered that youâd never seen the extent of his scars, and he waits for the shock or disgust that might follow. But your expression doesnât change, the glint of hunger and the neediness of your pawing hands remain the same.
âLube," you pant, body reluctantly twisting to reach for your bedside table, âwant you to fuck meâ.
He curses and stretches over the length of your body to pull open the drawer, grabbing it himself, and you murmur a quiet thank you. He lathers it along the length of his cock, itâs cold against his skin but then again what isnât, and he relaxes his fist when he notices you staring at his little show.
âYou want my cock, that it?â he purrs, a thinly veiled taunt, and he finds himself thoroughly enjoying the annoyed narrowing of your eyes. Using the leg thrown over his shoulder you pull him toward you, pelvis circling without shame, voice rough when you bite back.
âYou know I doâ.
You swallow around the head of his cock effortlessly, a stuttered exhale with your fists twisting in the sheets. He sinks into you frustratingly slowly, eyes squeezed shut and breath held, praying to God to he can hold off his orgasm. With the first rock of his hips his name falls from your lips and it reverberates through him, pebbling his skin, hairs on end. Youâre so present with him, mouth brushing any part of his body you can reach, hands restless as they caress his rugged skin, careful as not to catch on his staples, heâd had good sex before but never like this.
Never has he been so cherished before, so overwhelmed and desperate and close to the edge just from the act of someone cradling his face. Your lips crash into his like a wave to land and the momentum has him collapsing into your torso, bodies pressed tightly together and covered in a sheen of sweat. You keen into the crook of his shoulder, the new position all the sweeter for you, and he doesnât waste time angling his thrusts exactly where you want them to be.
âShit,â he groans through gritted teeth. Thereâs a whine building in his chest along with the tightening in his abdomen that chips away at his ego. Fuck he doesnât want to cum first, not yet, wants to stay inside you a little longer.
âYouâre fucking perfect,â he rasps. His tongue dips between your lips, spit running down your chin, and he slips a hand down the front of your stomach to touch you. Your synchronized movement becomes sloppy, a startled moan and youâre clenching deliciously around him.
âPlease,â you shudder, lashes fluttering and nails digging into the unmarred skin of his left shoulder, âIâm so cl-oseâ.
He fucks into you deeper, pushing you further up the mattress with each stroke of his cock. Your muscles coil tighter and tighter, the sweet scrunching of your nose and crease between your brows as your mouth falls open with a silent cry. You cum incoherently around his cock, earnest in your efforts to keep your eyes open and locked with his, the intimacy of it leaves him aching.
Fighting against the urge to carelessly chase his own release he carries you through your orgasm, gently rolling his hips. He doesnât know when the descent starts, so different from the sudden snapping sensation heâs used to, it feels like he has been stretched thin and left to slowly reshape himself. He cums and his vision whites out, face buried against your chest with your soft cooing above him, the tension bleeding steadily from his body.
He lifts his head, valiantly ignoring the faint smears of blood along your collar, and you donât mention the red stains that are likely dried against his cheeks. You look tired, but satisfied, happy.
âYouâll regret loving me,â he falters, black dyed bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. Youâll regret it, he tells himself, so it wonât hurt as much later.
You faintly shake your head no, smile unwavering. âLet me decide that for myself, ok?â
Could it be called defeat if he hadnât even put up a fight?
a/n: this is lowkey soft considering the usual bully auâs I read, but I hope yall like it.
wc: 1k
warnings: gn!reader, bullying, dabi is an asshole, kissing, soft at the end, lots of cussing (sorry), talks about puke and alcohol a little, sfw just kissing fr, dabi makes u cry
The Monday after the party, Dabi wasnât in school. When you walked into class to see his desk empty, you werenât exactly surprised. He was probably hungover from the number he did on himself, so you thought nothing of it. If anything you were a little glad to experience a normal school day. But, the next day when Dabi did return, he was somehow even worse.
The teasing, the hair pulling, the laughter you would overhear from him and his friends, the tripping in the hallways, the knocking your stuff off your desks. It was all stuff you were used to by now. Was it annoying? Sure. Did it make you wanna bang your head against your desk? Absolutely. But you could deal with it. You could even find the strength to laugh it off sometimes. But that whole school week after the party had been like a personal hell. He was relentless and genuinely mean with the things he did to you.
He burned your homework the day it was due, he pushed you into lockers, and on Thursday he even threw your shoes off the rooftop where you ate lunch alone. It was humiliating and you didnât understand why. You couldnât pinpoint what exactly had caused him to go into full on asshole mode. Had you done something to him? While trying to figure it out, all you could see in your head was that one moment at the party. That moment where he looked in your eyes with something that lacked any negative emotion. However, you would immediately disregard it when you remembered how he nearly puked on you seconds later.
On Friday you decided you werenât gonna take his shit anymore. You would avoid him as much as possible just for one day of peace. When the bell rang for lunch you ran out of class as fast as you could. Instead of eating on the roof like usual, you ate in the gym hoping that he wouldnât find you there. If you could just get through lunch and the rest of your classes, you could make it home and not have to deal with him until Monday. You just needed to make it to the last bell. Just when you had the rest of your plan in mind, you heard the squeak of shoes across the gym floor and your head snapped up.
It was him. Just him.
âWho ya hidinâ from?â
His face was serious. He looked almost mad, and the new scar that was on his cheek only made him looked meaner. His eyebrows relaxed and eyes focused on you as he walked in a straight line to where you were sitting. Fuck you just wanted to die. All you wanted was one small bit of peace. With all the shit he had done to you this week you were so frustrated that you felt like crying. You didnât say anything but you kept your eyes on him. He was halfway across the gym.
âHey,â He raised his voice slightly. âI asked you a question.â He stepped up the bleachers, stomping so loudly that you could feel each step shake. Dabi leaned down in front of you so that you were face to face, and he really did look angry. âWho are you hiding from?â
âYou obviously.â You tried to create some distance between the two of you, but Dabi only invited himself further into your space. He was standing right above you now and you could feel his breath on your face.
âOh you wanna get brave with me now? What happened to the weak little y/n who was too scared to fight back?â
âIâm not scared of you.â Why was he being this way? Your heart was racing but you didnât look away from him. The tension between you two was growing to be unbearable. âYou should be.â His words came out almost like a growl and he flinched forward when he said them to you. You tried again to move away from him, to stand up, but he grabbed your arms and pinned you down. âFuck just- just leave me alone!â You struggled against him and he fought to hold your wrists down. He was stronger than you and you knew that. Eventually you gave up, with him on top of you, on his knees. He pinned your hands to both sides of your head. At this point, you were both out of breath.
You let out a sob underneath him. When he heard you cry, he let your wrists go but he didnât move. He just watched you. God you felt so fucking embarrassed. You covered your eyes hoping he would look away. Out of all the people on this planet, he was the last one you wanted to let see you cry. âWhy are you being so- mean to me?â It was hard to get your words out. For a few seconds, he was quiet.
âY/N.â
âWhy??â you couldnât stop crying.
âY/n!â
âWh-â Dabi grabbed your hands and pulled them away from where you were rubbing your eyes. The look of anger was gone from his face. He looked worried now, but you couldnât see the expression for long. Seconds after he moved your hands you felt lips on yours. It was strange. You never thought that someone covered in so many scars would have lips that were so soft. The first kiss was short and almost innocent. He pulled away fast and looked at you before he kissed you again. You slid your wrists out of his hands and placed them on his shoulders. He placed one of his hands on your neck and his lips moved fluidly against yours, his tongue going in and out. You let yourself drown in the kiss until you both had to pull away for air.
âW..why?â You stared up at him with wide eyes. He let out a small laugh and for the first time ever you saw him really smile. A smile that was innocent and not mocking. He leaned down closer to you and looked into your eyes. Fuck. He didnât even know the answer himself.Â
AN: iâm very new to writing smut please have mercy.
warnings: gn!reader, handcuffs, unprotected sex, nsfw, minors do not interact!!
you were driving him absolutely crazy. when you asked atsumu if you could use cuffs on him, he teased you at first, but eventually agreed. Now here he was, thighs shaking from the way you were riding him. You looked so fucking hot above him like that, going up and down, moaning on top of him. he was already a panting, whining mess- but once you leaned down and bit his ear lobe, he broke. his whole body shivered and he needed to touch you. to hold you down and fuck up into you until he was finished. âPlease, baby.â he breathed out. âplease let me touch- touch you.â please. he said the words over and over again but all you did was continue to torture him. fuck this. atsumu pulled hard, his biceps and his entire stomach flexing, and the cuffs snapped as if they were never even on. youâre eyes widened when you heard them break and both of you moaned when atsumu finally got his hands on you. he was fast and desperate as he thrusted up into you at a brain numbing pace. your jaw went slack as you fell forward and hung onto him. âf-fuck. fuck.â when he felt your walls spasm around him, his entire resolve shattered. he came inside you with a loud moan and bit down on your shoulder as he rode out his high. maybe heâll let you try again next time.
AN: Okay this is a repost. I apologize, I was having some technical issues. Everything should be all good now. This is something I wrote a SUPER long time ago and has been sitting in my notes for forever.
warnings: gn!reader, bad grammar and spelling, under-case on purpose, bullying (obviously), dabi is toxic, mentions of puke, alcohol consumption, pretty sfw, barely romantic tbh
-makes you carry his books and his bookbag
-will trip you up in the halls
-doesn't let his other friends pick on you. you're his only
-tells you to go away once you get to his class cause he doesn't wanna be seen with you
-sometimes makes you sit with all his friends at lunch to make you uncomfortable but actually just wants to sit with you
-will corner you in closets or empty halls/classrooms and will tease you by whispering in your ear or staring into your eyes until you cower away or hide your face. then he'll just leave you there
-if his friends go somewhere after school he won't join them, he'll walk home with you instead
-makes you do literally all of his schoolwork
-will give you absolute hell the next day if you miss school but secretly just misses you
-will force you to go to parties cause he knows you'll hate it.
you were all alone. dabi had dragged you to this god awful party purely to torture you and then ditched you, but you didn't expect any less from him. you should leave. just walk yourself home. but you were too scared. it felt like he always had eyes on you. like he would know if you left early. so you stayed. everyone there gave you weird looks the whole time. they rarely ever saw you outside of class. you didn't care about them staring though. you tuned out everything at the party and just waited for it to end.
as you were standing alone in a hallway, you saw dabi come stumbling your way. he was absolutely shit faced. right before he fell to the ground, he grabbed onto your shoulders to steady himself. he was breathing heavily, his face flushed and turned towards the floor. he looked up at you through spiky bangs. you looked back at him. it was different from all the times he had cornered you. this look wasn't teasing or challenging. it was.... longing almost. he looked at you as if he wanted to say something...
"y...y/n..."
you leaned in closer.
"gonna puke."
jesus christ.
you rushed him to the closest bathroom and shoved him into the floor, a little harder than you probably had to. he slammed the lid open. you almost left him there, but decided to take mercy on the young boy who showed more and more scars everyday. you held his hair back and out of his face until he was done. you gave him plenty of water and rubbed his back.
"are you okay now?"
he looked up at you with bleary eyes. he smirked. then he was giggling until his giggles turned into full on laughter. you didn't know what was so funny, but his barking laughter was so contagious.
You supposed it was funny to find yourself here, like this, with him.
later on you ended up walking dabi home with an arm around his waist to make sure he didn't fall. it was hard sneaking him inside and getting his shoes off. you had never seen his house before. once you finally got him in his own bed, he seemed to knock out as soon as he hit the pillow. you looked at him for a while. you didn't understand him. you didn't think he hated you, but he could also seem so cruel at times. you enjoyed his company tonight though. as you quietly stood to leave you heard him whisper your name. "thank you.." you didn't respond. you would see him at school on Monday.
i have a headcanon that before dabi became a villain and had so many scars, he had a few tattoos. he had one of Natsuoâs name on his arm. then later on when he started using his quirk more, it slowly disappeared.
i imagine one night he was in a bathroom somewhere, bandaging himself up, when he realized that he couldnât see it at all anymore. the area of skin had, over time, become completely burned.
okay so currently in the manga dabi is likeâŠ21/22 right? and he was 13 when he âdiedâ
yâall know what i often think about? what i ponder?
what kind of stupid shit was teenage touya up to during those years where he wasnât a villain? what devious activities⊠i think about it all the time and the one thought i always come back toâŠstreet racing.
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