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𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝕴'𝖒 𝕱𝖚𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖀𝖕

𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑 𝖒𝖊

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It was ritual for him to arrive to the small apartment belonging to one of his biggest secrets. One of the things about this neighborhood is that the neighbors never asked questions. After all, he barely saw them.

He felt the pulse of the music as his hand touched the doorknob. She had told him that it was going to be open and unlocked for when he arrived. He turned the knob and opened the door to step inside.

Sapphire eyes didn't have to scan far for the one he was looking for.

Dabi only shut the door as the heavy guitar, bass, and drums reverberated in his ears. His eyes followed the indigo-haired woman dancing in the middle of the living room. Her eyes were open, but he recognized the look in them. It was rare to see her dancing, when she almost never did it.

He wondered if she was manic right now.

Dabi moved toward her, not breathing a word, and when she did a slow spin, his hands reached out to grasp her by the hips. Her dark eyes lifted to gaze up at him, focus coming back into them. "...Dabi," she breathed out.

"You're out of it, little Bunny," he replied, not once breaking eye contact. He turned her easily in his arms, his fingers digging into the cotton fabric of the tiny shorts she wore.

After taking in her appearance fully, Dabi saw Bunny's disheveled, indigo hair, the tight, small clothes she normally wouldn't wear, smudges of paint on her fingertips.

The villain gently pushed Bunny toward the couch, easing her onto her back as he climbed on top of her. Bunny's arms banded around his neck to pull him down closer, so that their lips crashed together in a messy kiss. Dabi's fingers nearly tore into the shorts, keeping Bunny still. Her fingers, however, were already at his jacket, tugging at it with an impatient whine against his lips.

Who was he to deny her? Tease her, maybe, but not deny.

To anyone else, it would have been quite fucked up: Dabi indulging in Bunny's mania instead of reprimanding her for not taking proper care of herself. Yet Dabi knew intimately well of Bunny's psyche. Who was he to judge her when she accepted him for every fucked up thing?

"There are times where I'm not me," she had said once and he never forgot that. Especially in moments like this.

The haze was contagious; the focus was no longer sharp. It was the sweetest, beautifully dangerous release on the now where their bodies were moving in unison. Deep inside of her, Dabi hissed against Bunny's neck as her nails dug into the healthy portions of his skin, dragging them down to the edge where his ruined skin was stapled together. His own fingers dug their own, angry streaks into her skin, leaving every mark outside and in.

This was them to their absolute raw, hidden away from the eyes of the society that created villains like him and victims like her. Only, they weren't even those labels here, in Bunny's apartment with the door locked tight. There was no judgment, no fear. Only two people who would never say they were in love, but they could never stay away from each other.

An addiction. An overdose. A dangerous game. Two fucked up people getting high off of each other.

Dabi's grip on Bunny tightened to the point of pain, to the point of drawing blood, as they both hit the nirvana of their addiction, the name of her drug--his name--a scream from her lips. Her nails left equally furious red trails down his back as she went lax beneath him.

Dabi trailed his teeth along the column of Bunny's neck, leaving dark marks on the exposed skin. Words didn't need to be expressed between them; their actions were always more than enough.

This was their high.

#moonie writes #dabi x bunny #implied smoot