sug /ʃʊɡ/ | he/him | 20+ | forever falling for hot anime guys | ao3
this blog is nsfw:- NO MINORS ARE ALLOWED TO INTERACT WITH THIS BLOG. i will block any minors interacting with this blog. this is not only for comfort, but for safety (and also basic morals)
gn reader x choso: curling up by the fire with your beloved
words: 700~
There's a clear difference in warmth between upstairs, where you've been sleeping, and downstairs, where the fireplace is. The heating hasn't been working properly lately, and while it really is the most inconvenient time of year for it to start acting up, you and Choso have been dealing with it. The fireplace downstairs helps, and you have plenty of blankets to smother yourselves in. Being close to each other helps, too, and Choso makes hot drinks for you every day, whether it's tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate. It's not exactly good for you to drink every single day, but it keeps you warm. Choso doesn't enjoy seeing you shiver. The cold affects you more than it affects him. He always runs hot. Your own personal radiator. It means less cuddles come summer, but it's perfect this time of year.
But when you wake up, there's a distinct lack of warmth in the bed. Even with the duvet and the blanket, there's a chill that settles into your bones, and it's not the most pleasant of awakenings. Especially when paired with the fact that it's still dark, and you're hoping that just means it's early morning as you roll over, hand flailing at the bedside table for your phone. You squint at the light of the screen.
2:14 AM. Great.
The cold will make it more difficult to get back to sleep now, and while you are planning on going back to sleep, you figure you might as well figure out where your radiator has gone. Throwing the covers off of you, you shiver at the cold air that hits your skin, and you grab one of the blankets to wrap around your shoulders before you head out of the room. He's not in the bathroom, or anywhere else upstairs, so you head down.
There's a soft, warm light seeping into the hallway from the living room. Warm in hue, and warm in feeling. You feel it as soon as you step into the doorway, something far more pleasant than the cool air upstairs, and it's almost enough to convince you to just fall asleep on the couch.
But when you glance toward the couch, you see it already has an occupant. Sitting up, the light of the fire reflecting off of loose, brown locks.
"Can't sleep?"
It's spoken gently enough that if he were asleep, it likely wouldn't wake him up. The figure moves, though, perked up by your voice, and his head turns in order to look over the back of the couch toward you. A tired face, but soft. He looks his softest when he's tired, or relaxed. Right now, it looks like he's both.
"Mm," he lets out an affirmative hum, and as you approach the couch from behind, you take note of the blanket sprawled across his lap. More for comfort than warmth. "You?"
"It's cold."
"... Sorry."
"It's fine. I know you just didn't wanna wake me up just because you couldn't sleep. You still have to put up with me, though."
Put up with you. Choso seems amused by the wording, a huff of air harshly leaving his nose, and there's a gentle smile playing at his lips as you sit down next to him. You're immediately cuddling up to his side, and you open up your blanket so that you can wrap it around him as well. Less to keep him warm, and more just to make sure you're as close as can be.
Choso's as warm as he always is. He warms you more than the fire itself, and he's twice as pleasant to look at when you glance up from where you've rested your head on his shoulder. He catches you looking, his own gaze drifting toward you, and he seems peaceful like this. Happy and content. An arm wraps around you, securely keeping you close. A thumb rubs your back with soothing, consistent circles, and his head tilts to gently rest on top of yours.
The two of you don't need to speak. There are no unspoken I love you's between you, because they linger wordlessly in the air like heat. It rises and fills the room, and so you both know you don't need to say anything.
Besides, you're too tired to talk, and it'd ruin this perfect atmosphere created between you.
In the spirit of encouraging people to comment on fanfics while also making it easier to do so, I feel obliged to share a browser extension for ao3 that has quite literally revolutionized the comment game for me.
I present to you: the floating ao3 comment box!
From what I've seen, a big problem for many people is that once you reach the comments at the bottom of a fic, your memory of it miraculously disappears. Anything you wanted to say is stuck ten paragraphs ago, and you barely remember what you thought while reading. This fixes that!
I'll give a little explanation on the features and how it works, but if you want to skip all that, here's the link.
The extension is visible as a small blue box in the upper left corner.
(Side note: The green colouring is not from the extension, that's me.)
If you click on it, you open a comment box window at the bottom of your screen but not at the bottom of the fic. I opened my own fic for demonstrative purposes.
The website also gives explanations on how exactly it functions, but I'll summarize regardless.
insert selection -> if you highlight a sentence in the fic it will be added in italics to the comment box
add to comment box -> once you're done writing your comment, you click this button and the entire thing will automatically copied to the ao3 comment box
delete -> self explanatory
on mulitchapter fics, you will be given the option to either add the comment to just the current chapter or the entire fic
The best part? You can simply close the window the same way you opened it and your progress will automatically be saved. So you can open it, comment on a paragraph, and then close it and keep reading without having the box in your face.
Comments are what keep writers going, and as both a writer and a reader, I think it's such an easy way of showing support and enthusiasm.
gn reader x jjk men: asking him to choke you
characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, choso
content: EXPLICIT NSFW (MDNI), choking, dirty talk, roughness, possessiveness, aftercare, praise, body worship, overstimulation
SATORU GOJO
Satoru likes to treat it like some kind of challenge - for both of you. He likes to see how long you can hold your breath, or see how long you can go before the lack of blood to your brain almost makes you pass out. He likes seeing how red your face gets, and he's so snarky and mean with his little comments. He calls you his little cherry tomato once, and you threaten to call the whole thing off if he doesn't stop killing the vibe.
It's a challenge for him, too, because he's always struggled with self-restraint when it comes to you. When you get all red, and out of breath, and teary-eyed, and drooling, it's difficult for him to not just let go and fuck you into the mattress with his hands permanently cuffed around your neck. He doesn't always stop himself from giving into that desire, though, and it leaves you sore but satisfied on the bed's covers. For how much of an asshole he was during, Satoru's fairly sweet afterwards. Your neck is sore, maybe a little bruised, and while he enjoys the look, he doesn't like the idea that he struggles to hold his strength back so much. At the end of the day, he's the strongest: it'd be easy for him to kill you doing this. So he treats you gently afterwards, massages your neck and loosely wraps a warm, damp towel around it. He cheers you up with annoying quips and jokes, and you fall asleep with his long arms wrapped around you, chest-to-back.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
SUGURU GETO
It's a surprise to him: he's no prude (far from it), but he's still a little shocked when you ask it of him. Surprise aside, he doesn't hesitate to not only indulge, but enjoy.
Your pulse is his favourite thing about it. Maybe it's partly for sappy reasons, partly for power reasons, but he enjoys being able to feel your pulse beneath his fingers. Enjoys letting you breathe so that you can make pretty little noises for him, and his grip isn't all too tight. It won't bruise. Just a red mark. That's more than enough for him. He prefers his bruises to be in the shape of teeth, anyway.
Suguru's a tease, though. The redness of your face is just as much from his words as it is from the restriction of blood to your head, and he barely touches you besides the grip on your neck. His words are enough to rile you up, make you squirm beneath him, and that sly smirk on his face lets you know that your reactions make him more than happy. You're so dirty, asking me for this. Do you want me to fuck you while I do it? I bet you'd be so tight around me. I can see how much you're dripping. So desperate.
Suguru touches you more, eventually, but he doesn't fuck you. He's too much of a tease. But he gets you off, one hand on your neck, the other hard at work pleasuring you, and the yell you release sounds broken up when you finally tip over the each. Suguru thinks it's one of his most favourite sounds you've made.
Of course, he's sweet in the aftermath. Attentive and knowledgeable on the aftercare of such a thing. A warm, damp towel, a cup of tea, and plenty of kisses pressed to most parts of your body. He plays with your hair in bed, your head resting against his broad chest, and he enjoys watching you fall asleep with a peaceful and content expression.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
KENTO NANAMI
Kento is hesitant. Not due to a lack of interest, but because he's never done it before. The last thing he wants is to seriously hurt you, and he makes sure the two of you have a nice talk beforehand about letting each other know when it becomes too much. A visual safe "word" is established, and then Kento feels more than comfortable to proceed.
He has strong hands. It'd be easy to hurt you, if he tried, but Kento is as gentle as can be. Especially at first. It's intimate: his hands are everywhere but your neck at first, and it's like he's introducing you to them before he wraps his fingers around your throat and administers a light squeeze.
Even for a well-composed man, Kento's visibly affected by the state of you. The shaky, almost-wheezing breath you let out when he holds onto your neck for the first time, and his hand finds a comfortable, safe grip easily enough. He'd done his research beforehand. He wants you both to enjoy this, and he talks you through it with such kind, sweet words that it makes your head spin.
"You're doing so good, baby. I love the way you feel in my hands. I love making you feel good like this. Do you want to come with me?"
Through and through, Kento is attentive, and your mind spins as he gently fucks you toward a slow, satisfying climax. His hands rarely, if ever, leave your neck. He gives you plenty of breaks, but his hands still linger during them. The pads of his calloused fingers caress your skin, sometimes tracing the shape of your jaw, and his lips can never stay very far away from yours. When you come, it's with his dick buried deep inside you, and his lips against yours to swallow your moans.
He makes you tea, and asks you if you're alright. Gently, he massages your neck. There's barely even a red mark to be seen, but he knows you don't mind the lack of roughness. Maybe, in the future, he'll be more comfortable with it. Right now, he prefers to treat you like fragile porcelain until you build up to more. You fall asleep with your head in his lap, and he reads a few pages of the book he's currently working through as you drift away.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
TOJI FUSHIGURO
It's nothing Toji hasn't done before. If anything, it's tame, and he makes fun of you a little for asking him like that. As if you need to ask me.
Toji is rough, and he fucks you like he's claiming you while his hands grip your neck. It seems wild, but it isn't: he knows when to loosen his grip and let you breathe, and he's paying attention to when it looks like you might be getting close to passing out. There's bruising, clear as day, far before the end of your little session, and you have a feeling your neck won't be the only thing bruised by the end of this with how hard his hips drive against yours. The room fills with the sound of grunts, and choked moans, and skin harshly hitting skin. When Toji speaks, it's low against your ear: You like that, don't you? You wanna get treated rough? Like the slut you are? Want me to break you?
When the two of you come, Toji makes sure his grip on your neck is the tightest it's been. Not a single noise comes out of you, and if you weren't currently barrelling through one of the roughest orgasms of your life, you'd worry he might've fucking broken something. But everything winds down, the two of you panting and drenched in sweat, and while you certainly feel sore, nothing's broken. Thankfully.
The aftercare is a little lazy, if only because Toji gets tired after sex. He can go as many rounds as you want, but if you're done? He's passing out. So while he does give your neck a small rub and gives you a limp pat on the shoulder, he's just as quickly flopping down next to you on the bed and sleeping within the minute.
Oh well. At least it was fun. He'll make you a cup of tea come morning, when he wakes up before you and makes breakfast.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
CHOSO
He doesn't get it. In all honesty, sex is pretty simple for him. You feel good together, get off, and then cuddle for a while. For him, it doesn't need to be any more complicated than that. But you suggest it and, while he doesn't really get it, he's willing to try anything. Though, he does look it up a little first. So he doesn't do it wrong.
Choso is infatuated once he does it, though. He's so painfully aware of your pulse, of the way your blood struggles to travel to your brain, and it makes him hard as a fucking rock. More than that, he looks at your face, and you're loving it. He almost looks nervous as he stares down at you, but you know what that expression means: it just means he's struggling to hold back. That he's probably feeling just as good as you right now, and he's not even being touched.
Of course, he eventually fucks you while he chokes you. How couldn't he? The way you twitch and tighten around him is so unique from the way you do so when you usually have sex, and he's so clearly revelling in this new experience. He's losing himself to it, and you can feel the movements of his hips grow sloppy the further along you two get. Embarrassingly enough, he realises too late that he hasn't kissed you this whole time, and he makes sure to lock lips with you right before his hips stutter and press flush against yours when he comes. He swallows your moan just as you swallow his, and from where your hands have founds their place on his chest, you feel him tremble and fall apart on top of you.
Aftercare is late, tonight. Usually, you don't need much of it. This is the first time you've tried anything on the kinky side of things. Choso's always so overwhelmed when you fuck: he gets too into it, too worked up, and he ends up with his face hidden in the crook of your neck while you play with his hair. When he pulls himself together, though, he takes note of the redness on your neck. I'm sorry. You laugh, and tell him that's normal. Don't worry about it. He takes your word for it. Gets you some tea when you tell him your throat is sore, and he holds you gently to his chest that night, making fall to fall asleep after you.
kai x touya fic - an angel's seasons
chapter 1: how your name has touched my heart
word count: 6.3k
read it on ao3
content notes: yakuza, cafe/coffee shop au, dabi is not a villain AU, nervous crushing, smoking, mental health issues
i knew the first day that i saw him
i’d soon be living my life for him
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
The growing pile of cigarette butts and ash is probably a good indicator that Touya should quit sometime soon. Apparently, most people smoke to relieve stress. It doesn’t really do anything for him, though. He just does it. He hates the way the smoke burns his throat as he breathes it in, and he feels so painfully aware of it clinging to his throat. There’s no relief in expelling that thick, acrid smoke. If nothing else, it stresses him out even more. He doesn’t need to smoke to feel himself burn.
There’s just something both comforting and unsettling about the fact that he can choose how he burns.
“Touya!”
Blue eyes pry themselves away from the pile of cigarette ash he’d been staring at for the past who knows how many minutes in response to his name being called out. Sometimes he’s so busy staring at the ash that he forgets it’s all held in a cute little ashtray, a pastel pink. It’s not professionally made, all bent and uneven clay. Made by either a child or an adult who needs more practice.
Touya pulls himself back to the reality around him. Everything sounds louder now that he’s actually present. Cars in the distance, the chatter of people, footsteps. The wind going past Touya’s piercing studded ears. It’s a chilly autumn day. Perfect for sitting outside in the damp little alleyway beside the respectable business Touya works for. Looking up from where he’s sat on the unstable stool set outside, Touya’s eyes meet with that of his coworker’s, a deep forest green.
“You’ve been on break for a while now - and I know it’s not because you’ve been feeling sick.”
Kimi likes to act tough. She says she tries to be the big sister of the workplace. Touya says she’s trying too hard. If she’s going to be sisterly, it should come naturally. Really, she’s more of a little sister. Always posturing. Always trying to make those sweet, round eyes harsh, even with her rosy pink cheeks and the cute way she folds her arms across her chest.
Bossy. Just like a little sister.
“So now you’re assuming I’m lying?”
“I’m assuming that you need to put out that cigarette before you carry on and set off your asthma, Touya.”
Blinking, Touya glances down toward the cigarette pinched between two of his fingers, burnt down almost to his skin. He doesn’t even remember lighting it, much less taking a single drag. Maybe he lit it and just let it burn. What a waste. Lifting his hand, Touya stubs it out in that little pink ashtray, both hands slipping into the pockets of his work slacks as he stands up. He catches a look from Kimi. Disapproving, a roll of the eyes.
“C’mon. At least try to work today. Don’t make the rest of us carry your slack,” she huffs out, narrowing her eyes as Touya’s slouched figure approaches to walk through the doorway.
“Technically, you kinda owe me for scoring for you the other day.”
“Don’t-” Kimi hisses out, one hand lifting up to smack Touya on the shoulder facing her as he walks past, Touya merely huffing and carrying on inside. “Don’t talk about that at work, idiot.”
“No one’s listening and nobody cares, Kimi.”
Stepping into the back room, the difference is as staggering as it always is. From an open, cool alleyway to a stuffy, uncomfortably warm room filled with ovens and counters. Touya can’t complain too much. Even if he slacks every now and again, he likes working here. It’s the best opportunity he’s ever had, and he wouldn’t be mad at all if he kept it forever. But little independent businesses like this seldom last forever.
A shame, considering how nice it is. Before getting a job here, Touya was a regular for a few years. A rough time at home could be smoothed over by an hour or two sitting in a cosy little booth by a window, with a plate of lemon madeleines and a free cup of hot tea the owner always insisted on giving him. It took Touya a solid week to tell the guy he didn’t like hot drinks. He seemed so proud of their hot teas that Touya didn’t really have the guts to tell him at first, but he seemed just as happy to serve him a glass of iced tea instead.
Walking through the back really makes him remember nice moments like that, stepping into the scent of a cacophony of sweet treats.
And to think he hated sweets as a kid. What blasphemy.
“Touya, if you’re gonna come into my kitchen smellin’ like a seventy-year-old man whose been smokin’ for sixty years, you better be plannin’ to help out.”
Now that’s a big sister. Although, Touya’s argued many a time that she’s more of an auntie, but each utterance of the word has earned him a smack on the back of his hand with a wooden spoon. Ino’s a nice lady. She’s always got her brown hair tied up into a bun, covered with a net for her job. Tall and thin, middle-aged yet youthful. The only things betraying her are the bags and crows feet quickly forming around her hazel eyes, but he can’t blame her. From what he’s been told, she’s got three kids at home and no significant other to share the load with. Only a close friend to babysit while she works.
She’s a tough lady, but Touya can’t describe the amount of respect he holds for her.
“If you’re gonna ask me to help out, you better be expecting me to taste test.” A gravelly laugh leaves her as Touya picks up the black apron he’d set aside before heading out, slipping it over his head and loosely tying it at the back. The little metal tag with his name on it shines proudly on the front over his right breast.
“Don’t get cocky, kid.” Just as Touya approaches her at her station, she reaches out to ruffle the young man’s messy, stark white hair with skinny fingers, right before she’s picking up a pair of mitts and shoving them against Touya’s chest. “Take the brownies out of the oven, smartass.”
“Oooh, brownies,” Touya coos, completely ignoring Ino’s faux harshness, and he faintly catches sight of the older lady rolling her eyes as he’s taking the mitts and slipping his hands into them. “So I’m definitely taste testing, then.”
“You can have one.”
“Knowing how rich these little bastards are, I’ll probably only be able to handle one,” Touya mumbles, crouching down to the lower oven’s level. He hates these ovens. Crouching to get to them is a fucking menace to the knees, but maybe that’s just because his joints are shit. Even the owner and his wife can crouch down with relative ease, and he’s pretty sure they’re in their eighties at this point.
The moment Touya opens up the oven, he’s hit with that heat. He’s long since learned to hold his breath as it hits him, merely loathing the sensation of it on his face. He’s learned to be quicker in reaching into the oven and grabbing the tray inside. The whole time, he doesn’t breathe in. Not until the tray is out and Touya pushes the oven door closed again. Only then does he breathe in, then breathe out as he stands up, Ino standing at his side as he plops the tray down onto the countertop with a small clang.
“You’re gettin’ better with the oven. I’m tempted to get ya workin’ in here with me.”
“Fuck no,” Touya instantly replies, snorting as Ino gives him a small jab in the side with her elbow. “I’d like to stay away from the ovens as much as possible, thanks. I’m only helping you ‘cause I love you, Auntie.”
Instantly, there’s a scowl on Ino’s face.
“Y’know, I was just about to say that I love ya back, too.” Touya snickers at that reply, though cringes when Ino reaches up to pinch one of his cheeks between two fingers. Not harshly, but Touya still feigns hurt, wincing and pouting in the aftermath as he holds his wounded cheek with one hand.
“You need ta sleep more,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes at Touya one last time before she’s moving over to another counter, returning to an abandoned bowl full of batter. “I can see the bags under ya eyes.”
“I think they look good on me,” Touya mumbles, finishing his pouting as he reaches up to subconsciously run the pad of one finger under an eye. “Really ties together the whole ‘tired alt kid’ look I’ve got going for me.”
Touya doesn’t sleep much. He’s fine with it. It’s been that way for long enough that not sleeping enough is the norm. It’s just part of his schedule now, and he tries to not mess with his schedule. Makes him antsy. Messes with his head and stresses him out.
Turning his head, Touya’s about to ask Kimi if she wants to steal a piece of brownie with him, but upon looking around, he takes note of the fact that she’s already long gone. Probably working. Which is definitely what he should be doing right now, but instead he’s loitering around the kitchen with Ino and Z — the quiet, burly man on the other side of the kitchen, currently working on whatever bread the dough in front of him is gonna make.
“Touya—”
“Ah—fuck!”
In hindsight, it’s not his smartest moment. It should’ve popped into his mind sooner rather than after the fact that touching brownies on a metal tray fresh out of the oven wasn’t a smart idea, but it didn’t. There’s minimal thought to the action as Touya reaches out, then immediately pulls his hand back with a violent jolt as he burns the pads of his fingers on the freshly baked confectionery.
“Touya, you— you’re a disaster in the kitchen, y’know that?” Eyes glued to his fingers, watching the pads of them turn red, Touya barely registers Ino returning to his side in order to guide him over to the sink. “What was the thought process there, huh?”
“You know there wasn’t one.”
With a tut, Ino runs the tap for a moment before guiding Touya’s fingers under the stream, the water nice and cool. What a stupid way to get burned, he’s an idiot—
“You stay here until ya calm down, got it?” A hand soothes over his back, gentle as it briefly lingers over where the muscles in his shoulders remain tense.
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t be stupid, kid. You’re shakin’ like a babe in the snow and as tense as a holy man in a strip club.”
“You always have such a lovely way with words.”
“Stay.”
Ino’s word is final, and Touya doesn’t feel like going against it with the look she sends his way before leaving his side to work. His feet stay planted where they are, and he looks down at his fingers as the cold water soothes them. Though he knows he’ll feel that burning again once he takes them out from under the stream, Touya can’t feel the pain in his fingers right now. It gives him a chance to register how hard his heart is pounding. The way it hammers against his chest, fast and strong, and his muscles feel wound tight.
A heavy sigh leaves him, and the breath shakes on the way out. He slumps, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the edge of the sink, and turquoise eyes burn holes into the tips of his reddened fingers.
And he still hasn’t done any work. They should just fire him already.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
“There you are!”
It’s only a few minutes before Touya’s leaving the warm, stuffy kitchen to enter the main shop. Ino’s a tough lady, but she’s a mother to children who aren't even her own. As well as idiots like Touya who burn themselves on brownies. She fussed over him a while, kept asking if he was okay to go. Touya felt better. He wasn’t about to let some mild burns ruin his day. He still hasn’t gotten any work done. Now he’s faced with Kimi again, and he raises his uninjured hand in greeting.
As a kid, this place called to him. It’s not bright or flashy. It’s a quaint little cafe, and it almost blends in with the surrounding establishments on the same street. Touya remembers nearly walking past it, but stopping when he smelled the pastries and breads and other sweet treats being cooked inside. He didn’t like sweet things. He was picky, didn’t like most things. But the smell was so strong it made him stop. It made him look, and he liked what he saw. It looked comfortable. It looked safe. He really needed that. Still does.
“I was helping in the back.”
“For that long? Surprised you didn’t die in there.”
“Ha. Funny.”
Stepping up to the counter, Touya takes a look around. It’s a quiet day - windy, so most people are probably staying home. It’s mostly people stopping by on their way from work, needing something warm for the journey home, something sweet as a reward for a hard day’s work. An elderly couple here and there who are regulars.
It’s a reserved shop. Almost decorated like a grandma’s house, whilst taking into consideration the fact that it’s a business selling food and drink. A little less gaudy, too. No floral wallpaper and hard to look at carpet, but it’s homely. A painting here and there, a few plants. There’s a big chalk menu on the upper wall behind the counter, right above where the drinks are prepared, and the counter itself can be used as a place to sit.
There are sweet treats on display. Pretty slices of cake, brownies, flapjacks, pastries, and the madeleines Touya likes to have before going home after work. None of them for eating, obviously - just display. They look damn good, though. Touya’s been tempted.
“This mean you’re actually gonna work now?” Kimi’s teasing, and Touya shoots her a somewhat impudent glare as she rests a hand on the counter and leans on it.
“I told you I was helping in the kitchen. I have been working.”
“You’re a waiter. So wait.”
An attempt at mockery is made; Touya vaguely mimicking the other’s words in a high-pitched, whiny voice, before letting out an unconvincing “ow” when Kimi retaliates with a swat to his shoulder. A small yelp is pried from her when Touya takes advantage of the sliver of skin exposed between her thigh highs and her skirt, giving her thigh a small thwack before quickly stepping out of the way of another swat.
She makes the drinks. Touya isn’t allowed to make the drinks unless they’re cold, in which case Kimi likes to take over anyway. It’s what she enjoys doing most, and Touya doesn’t care enough to argue over it. Waiting suits him just fine, and while she’s making drinks and boxing up desserts, Touya’s roaming between tables on the floor alongside their one other designated waiter.
They’re all locals. Some frequent here, but all of them are recognisable, even from just walking around on the street outside of the shop. There’s Takara, a nice old lady always asking if Touya has a girlfriend yet. The answer’s always been no.
“What about the pretty young lady behind the bar?”
“Too young and too bossy.”
“I can still set you up with my granddaughter. She’s very bright and pretty - I’ll show you some pictures of her.”
Touya’s seen all the pictures before, but he stands there and lets her show him all the same. She’s pretty. Long, silky black hair, and really pretty dark eyes with these long eyelashes. More than that, though, Touya just likes how happy the old lady seems when bragging about her granddaughter. He hopes she finds someone to date her. Touya just doesn’t have the heart to let her know he prefers his girlfriends to be boyfriends.
There’s Matsubara, a businessman who always has the same drink after work hours - black coffee, no sugar, no cream. As though to offset the lack of sugar, he always orders a box of meringue kisses to take home with him. Though, Touya bets it’s not for him. It’s someone else with the sweet tooth. A spouse - maybe kids.
Two young girls, Naomi and Miwa, always take the window seat to the left of the entrance. They can talk kind of loud, but no one minds much. They’re kids. Highschoolers, showing each other things on their phones, sharing earbuds. They share a dessert too - usually different, but sometimes they re-order favourites. Kimi thinks they’re dating. Touya’s not sure.
Someone new comes in sometimes, though. Someone no one recognises, not even off the street, and it’s clear that they’re not a local. It’s kind of exciting, actually. Seeing a completely new face for a change. Even if they rarely visit more than once.
The bell above the door rings with the arrival of a new customer while Touya’s taking the order of the two young girls (they’re having a strawberry milkshake between them today), and with where they’re seated, Touya can easily just glance to the side in order to see who it is.
A face he’s never seen before.
When Touya looks over, he winds up needing to tilt his head up slightly to see the person’s face properly. They’re already looking at him by the time he does - staring, actually, and Touya seems to pause for a moment, staring longer than he truly intended to. A quick glance was all he should’ve needed, but the eyes looking at him catch him so off guard that they’re all he can look at for a second.
They’re a yellowish hue. A bold, unique colour. A lot of people compliment Touya on his eyes. Bright and vivid, often compared to the ocean, or rare jewels. Romantic, flattering words. The man beside him has eyes like a snake. Sharp and focused, and they bore into Touya’s gentler gaze like sharp teeth through a small rodent's hide. It’s the first and only thing Touya latches onto, and those eyes stare right back into his own.
Touya has to remind himself that he’s working. That it’s rude to just stare at customers - even if they began staring at you first. Even if he’s a little creeped out by this new visitor. He puts on his best customer service smile, holding that stare a little longer only to make sure the other knows he’s being spoken to.
“Welcome, sir! Take a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment.”
The guy doesn’t respond. Not verbally, at least. He stares a brief moment longer, long enough to make Touya’s gaze linger for longer as well, before that predatory stare finally leaves, and the man turns to approach a table. Touya doesn’t waste any time prying his eyes away and all but speeding away from the table in front of him.
Creepy.
“New face,” Kimi speaks in a hushed voice as Touya returns to the counter, looking over her shoulder toward him as she works the coffee machine.
“Scary face,” he mutters, leaning over the counter and folding his arms atop it.
“Yeah - he’s got this real stern look to him.”
“And he didn’t say hello or anything. He was staring at me.”
“Seriously?” Kimi’s brow raises slightly, and she tuts quietly as she finishes up at the coffee machine, turning to set the cup down on the tray on the counter. “That’s creepy. If he gives you any trouble, you let me know.”
“I know how to deal with creeps, Kimi. Besides, maybe he’s just nervous or something. Not everyone can be sociable like you.” Standing straight and grabbing the tray, Touya holds back a scoff when he sees the pout on Kimi’s face, indignant and childish.
“I know, but I’m just saying I’m here if you need me.”
“Whatever. This is for Matsubara, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. Naomi and Miwa want a strawberry milkshake between them - with plenty of whipped cream.” Before he leaves, Kimi sents an ‘okay’ sign Touya’s way, getting to work on the teens’ milkshake as he goes over to Matsubara’s table. He’s always reading the day’s newspaper when he comes here. There’s this serious look on his face. Even when he’s ordering something as sweet as meringue kisses, he looks kind of grumpy. He’s a nice guy, though. Polite, and he says a quiet thank you as Touya sets the cup of coffee down on the table in front of him.
Touya figures this new guy is just the same way. Quiet, and maybe a little against socializing too much. That doesn’t make him a creep.
Thinking that doesn’t really make Touya much less fidgety on his way to the man’s table, though.
He’s less intimidating when he’s sitting down, and Touya can get a proper look at him now that he’s not busy with other things. Seeing him, he looks probably around the same age as Touya, if not just a few years older - it’s hard to tell. The man is dressed neatly; a dark button up and slacks, and Touya wonders if he’s come here from work or if he just dresses like that normally. There’s a black mask covering the lower half of his face, which makes those severe eyes of his all the more difficult not to focus on. Looking at them now, when they aren’t looking back at him, Touya doesn’t think they’re quite so scary. Still intense, though this time angled down, pointed toward a book the other’s brought with him. He has pretty lashes. Long, a nice frame for his narrow eyes. Short hair, almost black but definitely brown, like dark chocolate - somewhat reddish in the room’s gentle yellow lighting. The hands holding onto his book are covered with white gloves ending just beneath the wrist, and Touya wonders if he has some kind of condition. The man’s broad. In shape, wide shoulders, and though his sleeves are rolled down, he can tell the other must have some decent muscle hidden beneath. His skin is slightly tan. Touya imagines it would be a pretty contrast if they put their hands side by side. His hands look bigger than Touya’s own - all of him seems bigger, but that’s not hard to accomplish. Touya’s always been skinny and weak, average in height. Almost pale as snow. Sickly.
As Touya steps up next to the table, he notices a flash of something. A sliver of skin from where the man’s sleeve had pushed up slightly, and he sees the beginning of ink. The moment he looks away and up to the customer's face, those piercing eyes are on him, and Touya straightens his posture slightly.
There’s the hope that he focuses on the smile Touya pushes onto his face rather than the slight bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows a bit too harshly, but the way the stranger’s eyes flick down toward his throat quickly brushes that hope away.
Still, Touya has a job to do. That’s why he’s here. To work.
“What can I get for you today, sir?”
“Nothing.”
The stranger’s voice is low. A caramel dulcet tone, slightly raspy, and not quiet yet not exactly loud. Pleasing on the ears and just the right volume to be heard, though only by Touya. It isn’t very expressive. It’s… almost dull. Not quite cold, but simply straight to the point. Touya surprises himself with how he focuses on how the other spoke rather than what he said first, and he blinks the stars out of his eyes as he finally processes it. This guy, who clearly isn’t from this area, came in here just to sit down and read a book?
“Are you sure you don’t want anything..? Coffee, tea - we have plenty of pastries and other sweet snacks.”
“No thank you.”
Touya’s lips press into a thin line, and he can’t help but be a touch confused as the man averts his attention back down toward his book. Well, it’s… not really that weird for people to come in here just to sit down for a while. But it’s not like this guy was just on a brief walk and decided to come in for a bit of book reading. He’s not a local. Touya’s sure he isn’t. Maybe he’s moved here recently? Touya hasn’t seen any houses for sale nearby, but it’s not like he really pays that much attention-
“Is there a reason you’re staring at me?”
The moment he’s called out on his rude behaviour, Touya stiffens and his shoulders lift slightly, eyes widening as the customer simply continues reading his book. Touya hadn’t even noticed he’d just been stood there staring. How long did he stare for? Shit- he feels warm. An awkward situation has been created, one that makes him look like the creep the customer had been accused of being earlier, and he uses a strained smile to hide behind. Even as his face burns and tints an embarrassing shade of red.
“No- sorry, sir. I hope you enjoy your book. Flag me down if you change your mind about wanting anything.”
Touya’s not overly polite - he likes to be casual with the customers. It matches the homely feeling of the cafe, and it invites them to talk to him in a friendlier way. Makes people more comfortable. Before he leaves this customer, he gives a polite little bow. Doesn’t look at the other as he turns himself around and briskly leaves, approaching the counter where Kimi stands already staring at him. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his damn chest.
“I saw that.”
“What is ‘that’?”
“I dunno, Touya - what was that?”
Kimi’s assuming something, and it’s clear that Touya isn’t a fan by the way he glares pointedly at her. She’s got this smile on her face. Like she knows something she shouldn’t, and she lets out a snort as Touya doesn’t reply and simply sets his tray down on the counter.
“Your face is red.”
“You have acne.”
“You have a crush on the new customer.”
“I don’t-” Touya pauses when he realises how heated that made him - voice louder, brow slightly raised, and he quickly calms himself as he leans forward against the counter, arms folded on top of it. “I do not have a crush on the new customer.”
“Well I know you’re not scared of him. You’re not scared of anyone.” Tilting her head, Kimi gives Touya a short look up and down. Then glances over his shoulder toward the customer. Then she looks back toward Touya, a small grin slipping onto her face.
“You think he’s hot.”
“Shut up.”
“Is that what your type is?”
“Kimi, seriously,” Touya groans out through gritted teeth, hunching over as he casts his eyes down toward the tray. The reaction pries a laugh from Kimi, and she reaches over to ruffle his white hair, over where red barely peeks through at the roots - only if you look close enough. He swiftly swats the hand away.
“Okay, fine - what did your crush order?” Briefly, Touya’s head lifts for him to glare, though he seems to give up on any kind of rebuttal when he lets out a sigh instead, heavy and paired with the sagging of his shoulders.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Seriously?” Blinking, Kimi gives Touya a curious, wide-eyed look.
“Yup. Guy just wants to sit down and read his book, I guess.”
“Huh.” Peering over Touya’s shoulder again, Kimi looks at the man a few moments before shrugging, looking off to the side as she grabs a glass filled with strawberry milkshake and topped with a healthy serving of whipped cream. “Must just like the atmosphere. That’s nice, I guess.”
“I guess,” Touya echoes in a quiet voice, and Kimi shoots him a brief look before setting the glass down on his tray. For a moment, it looks like she wants to tease him again. Instead, she holds her tongue on the matter.
“He’ll leave eventually.” It sounds like she’s trying to comfort him. Reassure him, and Touya swears he’s not so shaken to need that. Whatever he might swear, his heart is still thumping like crazy - maybe he’ll just blame it on the burn he had earlier. Even if he’d only forgotten about it until now. With his skin tingling, Touya picks his tray back up.
“Right.”
Brief words make him seem so unconvincing.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
Touya wishes he could say the work day went as it normally did. By all rights, it did. Waiting tables, small talk with Kimi, sticking his head in the kitchen only to have it shoved back out by Ino. Old Lady Takara showed him a few new pictures she’d forgotten about earlier while he was bringing her another cup of tea. Apparently, she’s got quite a few grandkids - though focuses on showing him the women she’s not yet shown. Trying her hand with different ones, seeing if Touya takes an interest. One of them’s already married, and she shows him the wedding pictures. They seem happy.
The tips of Touya’s fingers still feel like they’re burning. He can’t look in the direction of that table. It’s a completely irrational kind of nervousness, he knows. A customer is a customer. Regardless of what they look like, or what kind of vibe they might give off, they’re nothing to be afraid of. Not for Touya, at least. The kind of people he’s scared of aren’t found here. Not even at that table.
But he is nervous. And it is irrational. And he tries his best to push it far to the edge of his mind by absent-mindedly scratching at the counter. Not making a mark or dent, but letting his chipped black-painted nails skim over the surface. Bump over each grain, eyes fixed on the colour differences between grains and the disparities of the stain. Some of the staining is unintentional, set apart from the process that went into making the counter, and he runs the soft pad of his index finger around the bleeding curve of an odd-out stain.
“Excuse me?”
It’s an ugly noise paired with an unpleasant sensation shooting up his hand and arm when Touya’s nail harshly drags across the wood with one quick, sudden motion. A jolt, and his head snaps to look up so quickly he nearly gives himself whiplash. It isn’t a voice he recognizes. Not Kimi telling him to stop being useless and send a drink out, or a regular customer coming up front either to pay or simply to chat.
It’s the eyes of a snake that meet him, golden and pretty, and the sapphire of Touya’s gaze seems struck by them.
And then he remembers he’s on the job.
“Oh.” Quickly, he straightens up. Hands and arms off the counter. “Yeah, sorry. Went somewhere else. Need something, sir?”
Touya’s a good judge of character, but he doesn’t know how to feel about this guy. It isn’t negative. It’s not necessarily positive, either. But it’s something that makes his guts tighten up, and his heart feel like it’s only pumping half as much blood as it should. If he were a lesser man, he’d avoid looking at the other. But he keeps his eyes ahead, just as the other does, and he doesn’t shy away from a gaze that looks down at him.
“Just paying for my drink.”
“Right. Got it. Thank you for your patronage, sir.” Touya swears he’s not usually so stiff, but talking to this guy has the unintended effect of forcing him into full-blown customer service mode, apparently. If he’s being honest, he just wants him to leave. Which is an event quickly approaching, as the other sets a couple of yen notes on the counter, and Touya doesn’t waste any time taking them into his own hands.
“Come back any time.” Please don’t.
The man doesn’t answer verbally. It’s a nod, and his stare lingers even as he turns his head. It lingers until it can’t anymore, and Touya feels like his body’s functioning as normal again when the other approaches the shop’s exit. There’s a visible slack to his shoulders, and he looks down at the money in his hands.
He didn’t order a drink.
“Wait- sir, you didn’t…”
And he’s gone. The bell dings, and Touya watches as the stranger turns left from the door and makes haste down the side walk. Usually, Touya would’ve chased after him to give him his money back. The guy doesn’t seem very… absent-minded. Or dumb. But he supposes you can never judge a book by his cover. Although, it could also be that the guy’s just generous, and Touya’s a serious asshole for thinking so harshly. Either way, there’s money in Touya’s hand, and he cups it with the other as he flips between the notes.
“¥20,000?!”
Immediately, Touya’s slapping a hand over his mouth, and he nearly drops the money in his hand in the process. That can’t be right. ¥20,000. ¥20,000? That’s a mistake. Even if the guy was, in fact, being generous, that’s too much for absolutely nothing, and Touya’s hand leaves his mouth to return to the money and count yet again.
It’s ¥20,000.
“What’s ¥20,000?” The familiar ring of Kimi’s voice is paired with her appearance by Touya’s side, her shoulder gently brushing against his, and she nosily fixes her gaze onto the small wad of money in Touya’s hands. Wad meaning just two notes, and the top note being ¥10,00 is enough for Kimi’s eyes to widen in an even more cartoonish way than Touya’s had.
“What?! No way - let me see!”
“Hey- careful!” Touya doesn’t care that Kimi reaches out to snatch the money out of his hands. Just that she’s so sudden with it that he fears the notes might rip, and it’s in the middle of that worry that it settles into curiosity. It settles when he sees the money in Kimi’s hand, and the angle lets him see under the notes. He hadn’t bothered with flipping the notes over. But seeing now, on the underside of one as Kimi fans them out in her hands with a starstruck expression on her face, Touya takes note of something he hadn’t noticed. A piece of paper, white and likely ripped from a notebook, small enough to have been just kind of… taped to the underside of the note. There’s something written on it.
“Hand it over for a second,” Touya requests, and Kimi doesn’t fight against it in her awestruck daze as he takes the money back, flipping the notes over to get a better look at what he’d seen: numbers. Ten of them, and the way Touya’s brain lags to recognize what they are must be a lingering effect of the shock of just being handed ¥20,000.
“A phone number?”
“A phone number?” An echo in the room, and it takes the form of Kimi, right at his shoulder yet again, and her reaction is just as vibrant as the one she’d had toward the money. If anything, she seems like she’s forgotten about the money aspect, eyes alight with excitement as a gasp leaves her dramatically O-shaped lips.
“Holy shit! The hot guy you have a crush on left you his number! This is, like- perfect! He’s interested in you, you’re interested in him…”
Kimi’s still talking. Touya can still hear her voice, rambling excitedly, but he doesn’t process the words. His eyes and mind are set on a fixed point: the numbers in his hands, written on the back of a generous tip in response to nothing but awkward service. Highschool is the time when you’re supposed to start dating people. The dream is always to meet your sweetheart, and marry them once you leave highschool. Maybe go to college together. Touya didn’t get that. Touya’s never dated. Never had anything more than small crushes on attractive guys in his class, and it never got anywhere because he was too afraid to say anything. People liked him. He wasn’t incredibly popular, but he was liked. He didn’t need to ruin that by coming out and letting people know his little gay crushes.
Touya’s felt out of place ever since he officially became an adult. School had felt like a perfect shelter from a larger world. It was easier to be liked. That’s what he likes so much about working here, too. It’s familiar. A shelter from the rest of the world. People like him. He doesn’t have any crushes here: his colleagues and many of the clientele feel like family.
Someone invading that bubble is always a shock to the system, but it’s not like this. It’s a new person to get used to, whether they become temporary or permanent. And Touya’s always been good at getting comfortable with people quickly. But this time was different. This time, the shock was an earthquake. This time, Touya looked at someone and saw something set apart from the potential of friends or family, but something similar to what he saw in highschool among his attractive peers. They’ve never looked back before.
It’s warm. Very warm. A warmth that floods his face, and his chest, and it rushes down to his toes and leaves them feeling tingly. A phone number. That guy’s phone number. Attached to a ¥10,000 note, and Touya doesn’t think much of the money anymore. Money could never make him feel this warm, and he wonders when would be a good time to call that number.
kai x dabi ficlet - clean
word count: 2.1k
read it on ao3
kink list + content warnings: cleanliness?, talk of drug usage, light bondage, begging, multiple orgasms, pet names, dirty talk, praise, dom/sub dynamics, unsure fluff (idk how else to put it, dabi is soft for the way kai treats him and kai Seems soft for dabi but they're both bad people so beep boop who knows which emotions are real)
The best thing about sex with Kai is the chance to get himself clean.
Being clean was important for Dabi. The ruined grafts that covered his body were easily infected. They had gotten so in the past quite a few times, and each time worsened the appearance of his damage. It had almost killed him a few times. It’s not easy to find good antibiotics when you have to rely on people who aren’t exactly your average run of the mill pharmacist.
At first, it was easy to keep clean. He had some money. Most of it went toward lodging. Food and water too, of course. Medical supplies. But money doesn’t last forever, and there was a period of time where Dabi couldn’t do any kind of work. Who wants a kid who can barely move and looks like they’re diseased working for them? So yeah. It was pretty hard, especially starting out. It’s still hard. Nothing about joining the League changed that side of things.
Meeting Kai, on the other hand, was the best thing to happen for Dabi’s wellbeing in a long time.
Kai refused to touch Dabi before cleaning him. The first time, it was awkward. Kai seemed interested and Dabi offered. Then, he was sat down butt-naked on a stool in a shower-room. It was a strange situation. For Dabi, at least. In every experience he’d had, it was a quick fuck and go. Sometimes they’d freshen up a bit, but usually, he and his bedmate for the night were too far out of their heads to bother.
This, though… it was intimate. Even if things were completely silent between them, it felt too close and too gentle for comfort. Dabi clearly noticed the way Kai made sure not to scrub harshly at his scars or tug at his staples. Every time the sponge he was using would catch on one, the other would quickly pause and backtrack. It was considerate. Dabi learned to convince himself it was just to avoid the hassle of opening up a wound.
It was harder for Dabi to convince himself that those gloved hands, the water thoroughly soaked into them, weren’t admiring the smooth canvas beneath whenever they avoided those deep, discoloured scars. Not cleaning, just gliding across the smooth skin. It felt soothing. Dabi would never admit how hard he has to try not to doze off, but there are worse places to fall asleep. Something tells him that Kai wouldn’t complain.
Outside the shower, however, Kai was far more… verbal, for lack of a better term.
“How dominant do you tend to be when you fuck, Dabi?”
It shouldn’t send him through a loop, but it does. Looking at the guy, he’d never expected such crude words to leave him. Especially when he’s casually discarding the gloves he’d used to so gently clean Dabi not a minute prior, the latter still patting himself dry with a pristine white towel. It’s not said particularly suggestively. It’s just… a question. Like asking about the weather, from the mouth of a man who looks like he'd much rather sit at a desk or torture puppies than have sex with a man he'd just intimately cleaned.
“Dominance doesn’t tend to be a subject when everyone’s high off their asses.” When his eyes leave the gloves he drops into a little hamper by the door, Kai shoots Dabi an inquisitive little look.
“Do you only have sex when you’re high?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
A hum leaves Kai. Silence for a moment before he’s reaching up to begin tugging off the white tie around his neck.
“That’s sad.”
“What?” Dabi must either sound genuinely offended or stupidly confused by the statement because the look Kai sends him looks more than a little amused as he lifts his tie up and over his head.
“I said,” he starts, before turning on his heels to walk closer to Dabi before they’re almost chest to chest, head tilted down to look at the shorter man directly. “That’s sad.”
“Why sad?” The voice that leaves Dabi doesn’t feel like his own, if only because it leaves him so quietly. So gently, as if to better match the intimate closeness between them. Not a whisper, but weak. Maybe it’s pathetic. Or maybe it’s endearing, because Kai only draws closer with this vague glimmer in his eyes that Dabi had no idea how to even begin to make out.
“Because you’ve never been able to truly experience the pleasure of another body. You’re never there.” There’s something about the way Kai’s hands move up so carefully to rest themselves on Dabi’s waist that makes the other man feel small. Kai is taller than him. Broader than him. It’s not too difficult to see Dabi’s ribs jutting out under his skin, muscles vaguely defined only because they’re bound to be in order for survival in the world they both live in. There’s no hint of malnourishment on Kai’s body; as much can be seen even without nudity. The word ‘perfect’ springs to Dabi’s mind, and he has to chase it out of his mind with a pitchfork and a flame. One of Kai’s hands moving away from Dabi’s waist to cup his chin is what stops him staring at the sliver of bare skin he can spy. The hint of chest from the few buttons Kai’s undone and the strong arms around him, the cuffs rolled up around his biceps acting as a frame.
“And I’m guessing you’re wanting to show me that experience?”
“As much of it as I can, pup.”
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
Being able to fuck up into Kai’s mouth without resistance is one of Dabi’s favourite things to do. The tie keeping his wrists to the headboard stops him from running his hands through Kai’s hair like he wants to. Stops him from grabbing onto what he can and fucking the other’s throat until he can’t speak anymore. Until he can no longer speak the words that make Dabi feel like he’s melting and shivering at the same time. He’s expecting a gag when he first rolls his hips up. Nothing. Nothing on the next roll of his hips, either. Nor the next. Nor the next.
Dabi’s long since learned not to look down at Kai when he’s getting his dick sucked. He’s weak to the sight. Weak to looking down at a pair of golden eyes just barely misted with tears, and pink, sore lips wrapped around his cock. Kai never looks shaken. He never looks flustered. When Dabi looks down, Kai’s looking right back at him. He’s certain the other watches him. Maybe that’s why he stops looking down. It’s better to ignore the fact that Kai can see him when he arches his back and calls out the other’s name when he comes.
Every time, Kai swallows. Dabi always takes a while to calm down. Always lies slack, trying to catch his breath. He only looks up at Kai when the other’s sitting up between his legs, licking his lips and looking at him like a hungry beast who’s ready for more. A beast who always gets more than his fill, because that look is all it takes for Dabi’s cock to start twitching back to life and for his legs to part all too willingly.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
“You look beautiful like this, Dabi.”
The praise always makes sure Dabi stays at his loudest. Maybe Kai doesn’t mean it and only says it for that reason, but Dabi doesn’t care. When Kai’s fingers are buried inside him, the pads of them massaging his prostate so gently it hurts, Dabi can’t think of much else. Much besides the breath that he feels against his cheek, Kai settled down on his side next to him, hand nestled between Dabi’s skinny thighs. Dabi always runs so warm it feels like he forever has a fever, but Kai’s breath against his skin somehow manages to make him feel like he’s truly burning up.
“Good boy. You’re being so good. Be louder for me, pup.”
Kai always tells him to be loud, and Dabi never disappoints. He thrives on the praise he receives. He tightens up around the fingers pleasuring his insides, thicker than his own and able to reach places he can’t. Every time he glances at Kai, moans and curses flowing from his parted lips without shame, the other looks… content. Endeared. Something. It’s a look that makes Dabi want to kiss him, but that would be taking it too far. This isn’t lovemaking. This isn’t a romance.
“My good, good boy. Do you want to come for me again now?”
“Yes,” Dabi’s voice leaves him as a whisper, but Kai can hear it with how close they are. It’s quiet and choked, the stimulation leaving Dabi speechless more than it’s making him moan. His hips twitch, desperate for the attention he’s being showered with -- both the fingers inside him and the hand Kai had slipped around his waist in order to comfortably wrap his fingers around his cock.
“Speak louder for me, pup. Be nice and loud for me.”
A point is made when Kai presses down roughly on Dabi’s prostate, and it’s enough to force what's almost a scream from between Dabi’s lips as his hips lift into the air and his head presses back into the pillow.
“Fuck! Yes, yes, please, please, I wanna come..!”
Dabi can’t see it, but he’s still grounded enough to feel the smirk on Kai’s face as the other’s lips ghost over his cheek.
“Then come.”
When the movement of Kai’s finger pads quicken against that sensitive little spot inside of him, paired with the roughening strokes of his cock and the command uttered against his ear, Dabi feels like his heart might stop. It seems too simple to say he’s coming. It feels like something greater. Like Kai drags him out of his body to show him a pleasure that shouldn’t be able to be felt. Not from such simple ministrations. Not on earth.
But when Dabi stops seeing white in his vision and his hips lower back onto the bedsheets, he’s left back on earth again. Catching his breath. Sweaty, and tired, and with the vague scent of burnt linen.
And Kai’s right there next to him.
And that’s where it ends.
When Dabi has settled, Kai will sit himself up on his knees and reach out to carefully undo the tie keeping Dabi’s wrists at bay. He never lets them drop. He takes them carefully in his hands and lowers them to Dabi’s sides. Sometimes, Dabi feels like porcelain. Like he’ll break easily if Kai makes one wrong move. Maybe he likes that. Maybe it makes him feel like he’s more valuable than he is. At the time, he’s always too tired to think more on it.
Then, Kai will strip the rest of the way and rest with Dabi. Of everything the other does, Dabi thinks this is what confused him the most. That it’s only Dabi receiving the pleasure. That he can feel the hard-on pressed to his lower back. One he’s offered to see to many a time, but is always met with-
“I’m fine. I’ve gotten my fill.”
That’s fine. Dabi’s getting off. There’s nothing to complain about. A shower. A nice place to sleep. Getting off is a bonus he could do without, but he knows he could never turn Kai down. He’s considered it. After all is said and done and he’s left lying in bed, staring at Kai’s closed eyes and the peaceful look on a face so often partially covered. It’s too close. Too soft. It’s always been a rule of Dabi’s to not get too attached. He promised that with the League, but he knows that’s a rule he’s already broken. Now Kai.
Kai bathes him. Makes him feel good. Gives him shelter. He started making breakfast, and Dabi can’t remember the last time he’s even had a breakfast meal. Let alone one made by someone else. Kai seems so fond when Dabi wolfs it all down like it’s the last meal he’ll eat. Doesn’t scold when Dabi accidentally gets some on the bed in his haste.
“It’s fine. It can be cleaned.”
Kai is a murderer. An abuser. Someone who is power-hungry. Who has no regard for the lives of others. Everything Dabi finds distasteful, even if he himself falls into one or two of those categories. The thought of killing the man in his sleep crossed Dabi’s mind. Peaceful and unaware, it wouldn’t be hard.
But then this man, who breaks out in angry hives when dirt gets on the sleeve of his jacket, touches Dabi like he’s the cleanest thing in the world, and suddenly Dabi feels like he could forgive any sin in the world.
Nanami says that he quit sorcerering because it was a pain. He says he returned because work is shit. At some level, these are true, but the text also directly confirms that he's not telling you everything.
His departure is explained by haibaras death multiple times.
His return is shown to be sparked by the bakery girl and her cursed spirit. As much as he fights it, Nanami realizes that it's his duty and meaning to save people because he cares more about people than money. (Earlier in text, he confirms work only cares about money and he doesn't; this is part of his development as a foil to MeiMei, who's main driving force is money)
@sapphonic you're sooooo right tho! he tries to be a stern character, but he's soft! He's defined by his kindness and the way HE looks after everyone! He dislikes Gojo because Gojo doesn't CARE! He chooses this life because he CARES!!
Things had been going on like this for weeks now. It was no secret to anyone that you were a brat. You want control. You want power. You want the universe to be how you want it to be, and everything served on a silver platter. Every tick and tock of a clock is to be on your command and no one else's.
“Good kitten. Spread those pretty legs for me. I want to see everything.”
Every brat needs a disciplinary figure. You've found yours in the one man who never fails to bring you to your knees with his presence alone.
The tips of calloused fingers grazing the insides of your thighs has you shivering, instinctively bringing your legs closer together by dragging your knees across the hardwood floor. A sudden, scolding ’ah’ reaches your ears before a boot-clad foot kicks one of your knees out again, a huff leaving you as you're made to spread your quivering thighs apart.
“Don’t run from it.”
The hero killer’s voice used to grind on you in the worst of ways, rough and something else to hate about a man with so few other redeeming qualities. Now, it makes you shudder, visibly trembling as the fingers return to your thighs. An amused huff sounds out behind you, and you have half a mind to twist your head around and snap at the other.
But you don’t. You remain on your hands and knees, legs spread, anxious for what Chizome might do to you next.
“You’ve become so well-behaved these past few weeks,” he purrs, voice dripping with a taunting sweetness as the tips of his fingers trace the curve over your ass, lingering over your left buttock. “Have you been not touching yourself as I asked?”
“Yes,” you mumble your reply, then let out a sharp gasp when the fingers tracing vague shapes on your ass cheek suddenly dip down between your legs, teasing over the lips of your pussy. The way you flinch and jerk forward slightly has a rumbling chuckle leaving the man behind you, your fingers curling to form trembling fists on the ground in front of you.
“Yes what?” Just as quickly as he’d been chuckling in amusement at your cute little flinch, Chizome’s winding a hand back and harshly bringing it forward against the same cheek he’d been caressing only moments ago. The smack reverberates through the room; as does the harsh yelp you let out, your entire body jolting and your eyes opening wide. You whimper, thighs and arms trembling as they struggle to keep you up. The burn on your cheek lets you know that there’s most certainly a nice, red handprint there. No doubt it’ll linger for a while.
“Yes… sir.”
“Good kitten.”
The same hand that had spanked you goes right back to gentle, painfully slow caresses to the same cheek. If you didn’t know any better, you'd say it was Chizome’s silent way of apologizing. But you know well enough to realize that he’s simply admiring his work. The hand dips down between your legs again, and you're prepared as fingers glide across your wet heat this time, doing nothing more than shuddering.
“You’re so wet,” Chizome coos, and you keep your mouth shut instead of congratulating him for stating the obvious. “You must be eager if this is all it takes. How long has it been now?”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks,” he repeats, and your hips twitch when a calloused fingertip rubs over your clit before pausing on it. “Two weeks since you last came. How much longer do you think you can go, hm?”
Your head turns at that, glaring at Chizome the best you can from such an awkward angle. How much longer? The whole point of Chizome coming here today was so that you could get off. Who does this bastard think he is?
Said bastard immediately huffs out a laugh at your little glare, a grin spreading wide across his face.
The next second, you're lurching forward and yelping yet again when another smack is administered to your previously unmarked cheek, no doubt giving a matching handprint to it. You shudder and let out a whimper, trembling arms giving in and lowering you to the floor. With your forehead pressed to the ground and your forearms either side of you, your position only spreads you out all the more, and Chizome seems to enjoy the change, judging by how he hums and caresses the newly reddened cheek.
“I asked you a question, slut,” With a voice just as demanding as before, Chizome’s purrs turn into something rougher; something less teasing and more aggressive.
You whimper, your hips instinctually wiggling from side to side.
“As long as you want me to, sir.”
A huff sounds out behind you, and you know you picked the correct answer when the other’s fingers return to gliding along your slick lips.
