Hello! I am a first time writer! Please check out my fanfiction. You can also check it here on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/377665268?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=CallisonMckeegan
this art will always make me want to bawl my eyes out because what do you mean we could have pro hero touya and health assistant toga only if they had decent parents??
So if you haven’t heard already the final volume of MHA is going to contain an extra 60 pages of content.
There are one of two things that I need Horikoshi to do and that is either don’t talk about the Todoroki family especially Touya at all or confirm that Touya is slowly recovering
SUMMARY *ੈ✩‧₊˚ he's destroying a rivalry villain base when he finds you there, a prisoner. known to the world as a villain - Dabi becomes your hero.
Dabi could be very cruel sometimes.
It was instances like this where he knew he was born to cremate. To reduce the world to ashes and nothing more as he kills every low life he comes across. Each one more pathetic than the last, Dabi erases them all within seconds.
The Meta Liberation Army had given the League resources and access to facilities they could have only dreamed of before. The base they were on currently belonged to a rivalry villain group - one which the League despised. They were a pathetic group of people really, power hungry in all the wrong ways.
Dabi hears the sound of what seems like rattling chains from across the hall, and he pauses his movements in confusion, the man in front of him withering on the ground and pleading for mercy-
Dabi finishes him off before carefully making his way towards the source of the sound, his boots maneuvering through the bodies on the ground stealthily as he narrows his brows. Dabi thought he had cleared this floor.
He hears it again - it was unmistakable now, he had mistakingly left someone alive.
Dabi slams the door open with a single kick - it was reinforced with welded hinges, but it was no match for his flames - which melted the metal easily. He steps inside the dark room, hands raised and ready to end whatever unfortunate soul roamed inside.
He sees someone moving in the corner of his eye - the dim light concealing their figure. He moves his flames closer, attempting to shine some sort of a light on the stranger who so stupidly made no attempt to escape while Dabi was distracted with the other villains.
His flames glow in the dark, and he finally sees you, shackled to the ground with wide eyes trapped in a trance - like a deer caught in the headlights.
Your lip trembles as you tug on your restraints once again, a pitiful whimper leaving you as you glance at Dabi with a sheen of panic glossing your pretty eyes
Slowly, he lowers his hand. Trying to understand just what he'd stumbled upon.
A prisoner.
Dabi had a knack for figuring out what kind of people deserved to die. He liked to think that he's always been able to know who was worthy or living and who wasn't. But...
He makes no move to save or end you as he watches quietly, his hands lowered by his sides as gentle, blue sparks glowed from his large palms. His fingers curl into a fist as he remains utterly still, his gaze burning as hot as his flames as you tug again on the cuffs secured around your wrists. You're crying now - tears gliding down your soft cheeks as you peer up at him
You're so quiet, he notices. Even as you cry, not a sound leaves your throat as you keep tugging on those damned restraints. The sound of metal clinking against metal has Dabi snapping out of whatever trance he was in as he slowly takes a single step forward
Seeing him move closer has you kicking against the ground in a weak attempt to get away, backing yourself up against the wall as your eyes shake - hands fumbling as you tug harder and harder-
"Don't move."
You want to cry just at the sound of his voice. His tone sounded like if you did move, those flames you'd seen earlier would return as death finally takes you - it was so cruel. The whole world - that's all you can think as your squeeze your eyes shut and pray for him to not have some sort of an liking to watching his victims suffer as they burned.
You tuck your knees to your chest and lay your head down, your hands hanging limply as your breathing becomes erratic - you're scared. Absolutely terrified.
He uses one hand to hold both of your wrists in place as his fingers shove between your wrist and the metal around it. Slowly, he focuses his quirk to push through the thin space and melt the bounds around you. You don't look up - make no major movement as Dabi breaks them - the metal clangs noisily against the floor. Your breathing has calmed just the slightest bit by now, and you finally look up as you feel the dead weight lift off.
It's quiet as you wait for his next movements - anything that shows that he has intentions to hurt you, to kill you - but he's still kneeling beside you - palm flat against the wall beside your head as he watches your gaze flutter to his - you catch your lip in between your teeth once you realize what he'd done - an attempt to keep yourself from bursting into grateful tears.
"Can you stand?"
His hot breath tickles your ear, warm and the most soothing thing you've felt in so long. He tucks a single arm under yours when he's met with silence, easily bringing you to your feet as you quickly gain composure - breathing unevenly as you lean against the wall
Dabi's heart stutters in his chest when you turn and look at him like that.
Like he put the stars in the fucking sky.
You're sitting beside him in a very crowded get-away car, his coat draped over your head while you peer around at the cheerful number of people - villains - around you. The Liberation Army talked and bustled around you loudly as Dabi remained completely silent from where he sat beside you, a single, protective arm laying on the railing behind you.
He told anyone who asked about you that your quirk is useful - a healing one that pairs great with him for his burns. And while he's lying his ass off completely knowing no one could reverse the damage, he has an excuse for Re-Destro to get you a room right beside his.
You'll be knocking on his door just about every morning, holding a plate with a shy smile as you hand him the fresh food he missed - 'because you weren't at breakfast, Dabi'
He found out you had a habit for drawing when he saw you sketching him onto a fogged window - your finger dragging carefully through the thin layer of frost as you draw his signature scars and soft, puffy hair. All with a smile on your face as you gaze longingly at it. The sight is too much to bear - and he'll leave before you can catch him standing on the other side of the room.
He'd sneak into one of the offices of the building and steal a notebook and various pens for you - leaving them outside your door, in hopes you'll capture the blueness of his eyes and the soft crook of his rare smile amongst the pages.
He'd let you lay with him on nights you couldn't sleep, never once protesting to your soft pleas or questions. You asked him about all sorts of things - and he indulged in you, because what the fuck? Life had been a bitch to him the moment he entered this world. If there was a mistake in the cosmos that led him to his angel, he would take advantage of it and allow himself this one good thing to keep forever.
"Why do you even stick with me anyways, doll? You got the whole world - I bet they'd love you better than I ever could." He whispers, knowing nobody could hold a candle to his love for you. A love that was bigger than life itself.
"Because. You're my hero."
He stills at your words, before kissing your temple.
"I'll be a villain to the rest of the world, but not for you, baby. I'll be your hero - I'll be your everything."
CANDYYY!! Congratulations on 2k followers!! You deserve every single one of them!! 💕💕
I saw the build your own fanfic adventure and you know I have to get in on this soooooooo:
Character: Dabi (what a surprise there 😂)
AU setting: Honestly I'm so stuck between Gothic Mansion and Monster Forest, I'll let you decide!!
Spice level: screw it let's go all the way, NSFW bb
Mood: I'll leave it up to you! You know me, I could go either way!
Kink: ugh I'll indulge a little today, Breeding/Daddy kink (sometimes I like being taken care of, you know?? 😂😂)
Have fun my love! 😘 Can't wait to read Choso's chapter!!
Waxwork - A Dabi x Reader Fanfic
Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Dabi as a werewolf. Dabi as a vampire. Light vampire-related blood. Rough sex. Breeding. Oral sex. Heavily inspired by the 1988 horror film “Waxwork”.
This ended up a lot longer than I planned but I hope you like it, babe!
Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback is loved! Dividers by @benkeibear.
You’ve always loved wax museums, so when a new one opened up in town, you just had to visit on opening day. You walk through the doors, noting sadly that there isn’t a very big crowd. After looking through the “historical figures” and “celebrities” sections, you wander into the “fictional characters” area.
There are highly detailed wax figures lovingly made to recreate various famous scenes from novels and movies. A large portion of them are horror, and so you feel a chill down your spine as you notice you’re the only visitor in this section.
Some of the wax figures look so realistic, you find yourself staring at them to make sure they’re not moving. You walk around, looking at the displays, before stopping at one that fascinates you.
The scene looks like the interior of a cabin in the woods. There are even fake trees outside the windows. The “room” is lit by a fireplace. Near the door, there’s a young man bent backwards in what appears to be agony, in the midst of a transformation. He has messy white hair, and half his body is covered in white fur, giving the illusion that the fur is spreading. His dark clothes are ripped, and he’s clutching his head with his hands, one of them tipped with razor sharp claws. His eyes, so bright blue that they seem to glow, are staring upwards. You imagine he’s staring at a full moon.
Also in the display is a young woman in a ragged dress, recoiling from him in horror. Strangely, she resembles you. Her build is the same as yours, as well as her hair. But with her face so twisted by fear, you can’t really tell if that resembles yours too.
Your eyes keep being drawn back to the man, to the fine white fur that looks like crushed velvet. You want to touch it, to feel it beneath your fingertips. And his eyes… so beautiful.
Wait… did his eyes just move? For a fraction of a second, you thought his eyes flicked down to your face. But surely you imagined it. You laugh nervously, deciding you’ve been looking at this display for too long.
You move quickly to the next display, this one looking like the ornate dining room of a gothic castle. Sitting at the table in a beautiful Victorian style dress is a young woman who looks almost identical to the one from the previous display. Which means she looks just like you. Her hair is pinned up in an intricate style, and her dress is way too immodest to be historically accurate. It’s an off the shoulder design that is extremely low cut, exposing way more cleavage than was probably common in the Victorian era.
The young woman is holding a steak knife in her hand, and has apparently cut her finger on it by accident, as a shiny drop of red “blood” is made to look as if it’s dripping down her hand. But the most interesting part of this display is the man standing behind her, like a predator.
You draw in a sharp breath as you look at him, realizing with a tinge of alarm that he’s the same as the man from the werewolf display, with slight differences. This one has black hair, and is wearing a black Victorian suit with a cape. He also has scars covering the lower half of his face. But those eyes… those lovely blue eyes… they’re the same. There’s a look of hunger in them as he leans over the woman, staring at the drop of blood. You look at the blood too, trying to imagine why he finds it so compelling.
Oh, he must be a vampire! You almost laugh at yourself for being so slow to realize it. You casually glance back up at his face, and your breath catches in your throat.
He’s looking straight at you. Not at the drop of blood, but at you.
Your heart pounds furiously as you stare at him, locked in his gaze. This time you’re certain. His eyes moved! You know for a fact he was looking at the woman’s hand before! So why is he looking into your eyes now?
This must be some kind of trick or gimmick, you tell yourself, trying to calm down. Maybe the wax figure has some sort of mechanized feature that makes his eyes move, as a way to excite the visitors. Or, judging by how realistic he looks, maybe he’s an actor! The possibility makes you feel quite silly.
You back away, suddenly eager to leave this section of the museum, but your back collides with something and your body bounces forward, causing you to stumble over the velvet rope cordoning off the display and fall directly into it. You close your eyes and brace for the impact of the floor, but instead you black out.
When your eyes snap open, you’re sitting at the fancy table in the dining room. There’s a plate of delicious looking food in front of you and a steak knife in your hand. A single drop of blood is sliding down your index finger. You look in front of you, where the rope should be, but it’s not there. In fact, the rest of the museum is gone! You really are in a complete dining room!
All at once you remember the other occupant of the room, and you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder. Leaning over you is the very beautiful, very alive, vampire with the black hair and the scars.
“Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?” he asks. You expected his voice to be more smooth and formal, given his attire, but he sounds like any random guy you go to college with.
You’re not sure what to say, wondering if this is a dream or not. Did you hit your head when you fell?
The man grabs your hand, firmly but not harshly, and pulls it up to his face to examine it. “Looks like a small cut,” he says, then wraps his scarred lips around your finger, his tongue lapping gently at the blood.
You’re so transfixed that you don’t think to pull your hand away until he’s finished. His eyes move over you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how obscenely low cut your dress is. You stand up from the table and look around, still hoping to see the rest of the museum somewhere. But it’s just not there.
“Not running off, are you?” the man asks, a hint of a grin on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone for dinner.” His tongue runs over his lips as he says it, making your face flush with heat.
“Um, I’m not really sure where I am,” you say, your back against the edge of the table.
He steps closer to you. “You’re in my home, doll, and we’re about to have dessert.”
You feel paralyzed as he gets closer and closer, until his body is pressed against yours. He’s taller than you, probably a little older, but he’s fucking gorgeous.
Maybe this is a dream. Maybe it’s a concussion-induced hallucination. But whatever it is, you might as well enjoy it.
You reach up and wrap your arms around him as he lifts you up and sits you on the table, the plates and silverware magically gone. His mouth is on your neck, licking along a vein before you feel a sharp pain. He’s biting you! The pain is intense for a few moments, and then disappears, replaced by a feeling of euphoria. You can feel his teeth tearing at your delicate skin, can feel his tongue gliding along the wound, but it doesn’t hurt at all now. You only feel warm and aroused, listening to the sensual sucking sounds as he devours your blood.
He lies you back on the table and pulls away from your neck. His mouth is sticky and red. He pulls the top of your dress down, freeing your breasts, and then his hands and mouth are upon them, squeezing and licking.
You moan, clutching his shoulders, opening your legs ever wider as his body presses to you. Eventually he reaches down and rips the skirt of your dress right up the middle, clearing himself a path to your panties and exposing your white garter belt and stockings. He tears the panties away and bends down, running his tongue along your heated, damp flesh. You arch your back, ridiculously turned on by the idea of a vampire eating you out. His tongue, still wet with your blood, circles your clit, driving you to madness.
When you’re right on the edge of climax, he stops and pulls away, opening his pants to the sounds of your panting. “Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks, sliding his hand up and down his hard, pleasingly large shaft.
“Yes! I’ll be so good!” you breathe out, locking your legs around his body, pulling him closer.
He grins as he shoves himself into you, licking your blood from his lips. His thrusts are deep, intimate, and hit your sweet spot just perfectly. “Ahh… feels so good…” you cry.
You want to moan his name, but you have no idea what it is.
“That’s it,” he says with a grunt, thrusting deeper, “taking me so well!”
Fuck it. Just go with the vibes.
“Harder, Daddy!”
He looks down at you, momentarily surprised, but then he laughs and fucks you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before.
You were already on the edge of cumming, and now you’re pushed over the edge by the way his tip hits your cervix, making you bounce off the table. You cum while clenching his cock.
Just before he releases his seed inside you, painting your womb in his color, he leans forward and bites your neck again. There’s that brief searing pain again, contrasting so deliciously with the pleasure rippling through you as his cock pulses in your body.
He pulls away, licking his lips again and pulling you up to your feet by your hand, like a gentleman. You’re in a daze as he leads you to the door of the room. “Thanks, doll. I haven’t had any visitors in a long time. Hopefully I’ll see you in the next one.”
“Next one?” you ask, confused as you walk through the door.
You find yourself back in the museum, standing in front of the vampire display. But it looks different now. The woman sitting at the table doesn’t look like you anymore, instead having plain, almost blank features. And the man, the vampire, is standing up straight, looking right at you, a subtle grin on his bloody lips.
Startled, you step back and touch your hand to your neck. You can feel the puncture wounds, the slick blood trickling out.
Was… was that real?
Somewhat delirious, you stagger away, and end up stumbling right into another display. This time you blink and you’re in the cabin in the woods. You’re the girl in the torn dress, cowering in fear of the white haired man who is turning into a werewolf before your very eyes.
He looks at you through his agony as his body transforms, and you can see the recognition in his eyes.
“Oh fuck, not this one!” he says, trying to move away from you. “Run! Get… to the edge… of the forest! Hurry!”
“What’s happening!?” you scream. “How did I even get here?”
“It’s the museum!” he shouts, clutching his head in pain. “Listen, you have to run! I can’t… control this form! I go fucking feral!”
You stand there, frozen, watching the soft white fur spread across his lean body, the claws on his hands get longer, the teeth in his much wider mouth become large and sharp. Two white furry ears even grow out of the top of his head.
“Feral, you say?” The question rolls off your tongue. Watching him writhe in pain as his body changes is… actually kind of hot.
He looks at you, blue eyes wild, and he seems to understand what you want. The transformation is complete. He stands before you much taller than before, covered head to toe in that lovely white fur. There’s a primal feel to the way he looks at you. Animalistic. Predatory.
Either he’s going to rip you apart or fuck your brains out. You really really hope it’s the latter.
He lunges forward and tackles you to the floor, pushing you face down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. His movements are fast and aggressive, but not too rough. He easily could have killed you already.
With one swipe of his powerful claws, your dress is in tatters, barely clinging to your body in tiny strips that cover nothing. Behind you, he lifts your hips and spreads your thighs, and almost immediately plunges into your slick pussy.
You cry out, gripping the rug in your hands as he begins fucking into you, your bare chest and stomach rubbing against the rug with each thrust. Ah, his cock feels incredible! It’s long and hard, covered in a thin layer of soft velvety fur. As he takes you from behind, he uses one hand to lightly scrape his claws down your back.
“Oh god!” you scream out when one clawed hand reaches around and finds your clit, rubbing and pinching it, making your body tremble. You don’t have to tell him to fuck you harder. You don’t think he possibly could. Your knees are wobbling, barely supporting you, your face is pressed into the rug, your tears seeping into it. You’ve never felt this good in your entire life.
You feel him twitching inside you, and just as you feel his scalding hot cum shoot directly into your womb, you feel your own orgasm wash over you. Moaning and panting, you stay there on the rug, your face buried in it, until he eventually pulls out. By the time you have the energy to roll over and look at him, he’s reverted back to human form.
He’s standing there naked, his white hair damp and hanging in his eyes. He drops down onto the rug beside you, and you scoot closer to him, pulling your knees up to your chest.
“What is this place?” you ask him. “Is this really still the museum?”
The fireplace is roaring behind you, and you can hear the wind blowing through the trees outside the cabin.
“I think every display is its own pocket dimension,” he says. “But fuck if I know how it all works.”
You look at him intently. “Who are you?”
He shrugs. “Just a guy who got stuck here. I came to the museum with some friends a few years ago, stumbled into one of the displays, and got stuck. I stayed inside too long, so now I can’t leave.”
“Why not?” you ask.
“When I finally found the border, the way back to the museum, I stuck one arm out and it instantly turned to wax. As long as I stay in the displays, I’m flesh and blood. But I can move my consciousness around the different dimensions.”
You suddenly feel panicked. “What about me?”
He grins. “You’ll be fine. You haven’t been here nearly long enough. Certain rare people get pulled in, and I always lead them out.”
You meet his gaze for a few moments, then say, “I’ll come back! I’ll visit you as often as I can!”
He gives you a somewhat sad smile. “The museum moves around to different towns. We probably won’t be here for longer than a year.”
“Then I’ll track it down!” you say forcefully, causing him to blink in surprise. “Wherever you go, I’ll find you!”
“I hope so,” he says, then he stands up and heads for the door, opening it. He tosses a blanket to you to cover yourself with and says, “You better get going. Head to the edge of the forest and you’ll be back in the museum.”
You wrap the blanket around yourself as you walk through the door. You stop and look back at him. “What’s your name?”
He smiles. “Touya.”
Minutes later, you’re back in the museum, standing in front of the werewolf display. The man who was once bent back in pain is standing calmly in the cabin now, looking at you without moving. You wave to him before turning to leave. “See you later, Touya!”
Dabi is your unfairly attractive bandmate, and the two of you stay late in the studio to finish a song (and each other)
NSFW, BandAU, head on both ends if u get my drift
(Guys this is my first time writing smut plz be nice 🙏)
(Also song used in the fic + title is don’t smile by Sabrina c plz listen)
—————————————————————————
The sound of Dabi absentmindedly plucking his bass fills the studio. He’s lounging across the couch, legs holding up the dark blue instrument as his fingers drag over the frets lazily. He’s wearing a vest, the white fabric stretched tight over his skin. The jeans he’s wearing are slung low on his hips, and you avert your eyes as he adjusts them, hips lifting from their place on the couch to drag them down.
You’re on the other end of the room, swinging back and forth on a desk chair. The room is hot. The studio was small, the same one your band, LOV, had started out in. Despite being more than popular enough to rent something bigger, there’s a weird obligation you all feel, too attached to where you started to ever leave. You and Dabi are supposed to be writing new songs, working on stuff for the upcoming album, but you’re not bothered. You can’t think. As the lead singer, lyrics are usually your forte but you’ve got no energy for it. The others aren’t even here, and that only makes you want to work even less. That, and the fact that Dabi is an ample distraction.
He groans from the couch. You glance at him over your shoulder. He’s looking at you impatiently.
“Let’s go home. I’m sick of this shit.”
You sigh, leaning your head back on the chair. “No, we have to stay. We haven’t written anything in ages.”
“Uhm, speak for yourself. I have some things. Riffs.” He plays something small to demonstrate and you roll your eyes.
“And how is that any help without everyone else here? We need all instruments present to actually make a song.”
Dabi huffs. He places the bass to the side, stretching. His arms reach above his head, shirt lifting up to reveal his happy trail and you sigh.
Of course Dabi is attractive. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. And yes, you also find his personality attractive. He was funny, that calm confidence he always spoke in, his flirty nature, it was all alluring. You’d see him dragging enough girls out the tour bus in the mornings to know you aren’t the only one who feels this way. Unfortunately though, the amount of women he’d been with, plus the fact it’s never a good idea to date a bandmate, means you keep your distance.
This doesn’t stop him from flirting with you at every available second. You’d like to say that you’re immune to it, but that unfaltering attention from Dabi isn’t something you think you could ever get used to.
“What about you? You got any lyrics down?” He asks.
You frown. You walk over to him, nudging his legs over. You sit next to him and he leans over your shoulder to read the scribbled notes you’d been writing the past couple hours. You huff, pushing his leg further away from yours. It’s currently pressed flush against yours, and his thigh is warm. He’s always so warm.
“Can you stop manspreading?” You mumble, pushing his leg away.
“Aw, you know you love it.” He grins, leaning even closer, eyes never leaving your notes.
You roll your eyes, but you don’t do much to fight the close proximity. His hand reaches up to stabilise the paper and his fingertips brush the back of your hand.
“Mediocre.”
You gape. “Mediocre? I’d like to see you write any better.” You snatch the paper from him and he shrugs.
“It's not bad. It’s just too sappy. Nobody believes that romantic shit is actually real.” He says.
You bite your lip, thinking. Dabi’s criticism is enough to have you doubting the whole song, and you groan. “Why did you have to say that? Now I hate it.”
“Good.”
You knock his side with your elbow and he tuts.
“You asked.”
“I didn’t.” You go to elbow him again but he grabs it before you can. You think you can feel the callouses on the tips of his fingers as his hand touches your bare skin. You shrug him off.
“You asked to see, but I didn’t ask for any feedback.” You say.
Dabi sits up slightly. He tilts his head, strands of black hair dipping to the side. His eyes flit over you quickly.
“Well. We’re a team, no? Don’t you want my feedback?”
You lean your head against the back of the couch. “I guess.”
He reaches over to grab the paper again. “Good girl.”
You flush slightly. “Don’t call me that.”
“You love it.”
You decide it’s better for the both of you if you don’t answer that. You look at the vinyl hung up on the walls, the pictures of you guys at award shows. Anything to distract you from the man sitting next to you.
“I think you should flip it.”
You turn to him now, and he’s already looking up at you. “What?”
“You see like this line? ‘Don’t cry because it’s over baby smile because it happened?’ Swap it so it’s like, ‘Don’t smile because it happened baby, cry because it’s over’.”
You furrow your brows. “That’s depressing as hell, though. It’s meant to be a love song.”
“That’s love, though.” He slides the paper back into your hands. “Depressing as shit.”
You scoff. “What do you know about love?”
He grins then, so boyish and teasing. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yeah, that’s why I asked.”
He huffs a laugh. “Love is overrated. That’s what I know.”
You roll your eyes. “You sound stupid. This isn’t some Disney channel movie, love isn’t overrated.”
“Hm. Agree to disagree.”
You quickly get up to grab a pen. You could sit further away, but you plant yourself right where you were before, and you ignore the knowing look Dabi gives you. “Okay, help me change the other lyrics then. Since this is now a hate song.”
Dabi laughs. “Not hate. Just not love either. A nice in between.”
“Hush. Okay, so this song is about. Well it’s about being okay with a breakup.”
“Is that the case for most people though? I mean, go the other way. Write a song about the pining, the feelings you can’t get over. Not being okay with a breakup.”
You always see Dabi at his most passionate when he’s talking about music. He spends most of his days lazy and indifferent, but now, his eyes shine brightly as he speaks, as animated as you see him get. You smile slightly, nodding.
“Okay. That sounds good. You have to help me though.”
“God, if I have to.”
The two of you sit for the next few minutes, squabbling and disagreeing half the time. You think the songs too negative and Dabi assures you it’s not.
“I mean, it’s all about the singer being in love with someone she doesn’t have. This line, ‘I want you to miss me’ or this one, about ‘thinking about me when you hold her’. It’s depressing, no?”
“But that’s what relationships are like.”
You slump back. You’re now cross legged on the couch, Dabi the same, the two of you conferring over the sheets of paper in front of you. There’s ink on your fingertips from writing and you tap the pen on your chin.
“Not necessarily. Not always.”
Dabi shrugs. “Definitely not always. But we can write about when it is. We’ve got plenty of love songs, but. We don’t have many focusing on this.”
“What’s this?”
Dabi paused for a second. It’s silent for a second too long, and you look up at him to see he’s already looking at you. There’s an expression on his face you don’t recognise. You smile slightly, confused, and it seems to jog him out of his silence.
“That longing. Wanting something, someone, so badly and not being able to have them. The pain of it.”
He speaks softly, his voice nearly a whisper just between the two of you. You notice suddenly, the proximity between the two of you. If you just lean forward a few inches, you’d be touching.
“You really think a relationship should be that hard? That painful?”
“No one writes good songs about the ones that come easy.”
You laugh softly. You scratch your chin. “Okay. That’s good, then. Let’s finish the rest.”
The two of you sit there, working away. You’ve never really been this alone with Dabi, not this late at night. There’s no windows in the studio, but you know from time and the fact sleep aches under your skin that it’s late. Somehow, you end up closer. Dabi reaches over to write something and your hands brush, you stretch and your arms touch. Both of you are desperately trying to get in contact just once, just for a second. After what feel like forever you throw your pen to the floor.
“God. I’m done. I’m tired.” You suddenly say.
“Yeah, I think we’re done here.” Dabi speaks through a yawn, dropping the papers on the coffee table in front of him.
You curl up on the couch, propping your head against Dabi’s shoulder. “You know when the next rehearsal is?” He asks.
Dabi scratches at the scruff on his chin and you think for a second. “Two days, I’m pretty sure”
Dabi curses softly under his breath. “I don’t think I can make it.”
“Uh, why not?”
“I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Doing who, more like.”
You sit up. “Who?”
Dabi grins. He brings his arms up to rest on the back of the couch. “You jealous, baby?”
“I’m not jealous of your little groupies.” You scoff.
Dabi barks out a laugh. “Groupies? The fuck are you talking about?”
It’s your turn to laugh. “Oh, come on! Last tour you brought one back like, every night.”
“They wanted autographs!”
“Fuck off!” You laugh. “Those were very vocal autographs. You do realise the tour bus walls are very thin?” There’d been nights when you’d felt like you were in the room with them.
“Aw, if you wanted to get involved all you had to do was ask.” Dabi pouts, his voice teasing.
“Shut up, you pervert. You wish.”
“I do wish.”
“Degenerate.”
He reaches a hand up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. You freeze slightly and when he moves his hand away you turn, knowing the bright lights won’t hide the red on your face.
“Didn’t mean to be so loud. They can’t help it, you know. Not when I’m there.”
You scoff. “Right. Is that where you learnt all about love?”
“You could say. I know they loved it.”
It was no secret that Dabi slept around. You’d all been victim to the girls he took to bed, screaming his name late into the night when you’d all be trying to sleep after a show. Yeah, you’d had sex before, but it had never been like that. Didn’t have you yelling the way they did. It did make you wonder, some nights.
But you’re not going to let him know that. Your face twists in disgust. “Gross. I don’t need to know that.”
“Really?”
“Yes really.”
Dabi sighs. He sits up slightly. “Shame. I’d show you such a good time if you’d let me.”
And that has you thinking.
Because there he goes again, flirting and saying such suggestive things. You never play along because you always argue that he’s just joking. He doesn’t mean it. And you could shut it down right now. Really. One shove of his shoulder, one excuse that you’re tired and he’s being gross would have him backing off.
But Dabi is looking at you under impossibly long lashes, impossibly blue eyes trailing over your body, before they land back on your face. He’s looking at you like he’s not joking anymore, and the part of you that wants to scream like those girls did has you meeting his gaze with competition.
“Really?”
If he looks shocked at your reply, he doesn’t show it. He just inches closer. “Of course. You know I’d treat you right. If you’d let me.”
You're a breath away from each other. You’re not sure how, but you’re both sitting up again, face to face. You can smell the cigarette smoke that always seems to linger around him, the too strong cologne that never manages to hide it. This close you can see freckles on his face, so light you don’t think you ever would’ve noticed them otherwise. You want to reach out and touch them but you’re frozen. Waiting.
The both of you are silent. You let it linger, wait for him to make the next move.
“You’re gorgeous. Do you know that? I’m always watching you on stage. When you’re singing. Can’t get enough of you.”
He reaches a hand up. A hand rests on your shoulder, right against your pulse. His fingers curl up against your face, trailing down your cheek.
“And those groupies you were talking about? Fuck, I wish it was you. Wish it was you I was making scream on my tongue, do you know that?”
You don’t say anything. You don’t think you could if you tried. Dabi smiles.
“You know you do this thing. When we’re working. You always bite on the end of the pen.”
His fingers trail over your lips. His thumb rubs at your chin.
“Drives me fucking crazy.”
Your breath hitches as his hand curls around your neck with more purpose.
“I’m gonna kiss you now. That okay?”
You nod.
“I need to hear you say it, baby.”
“Yes, yes it’s okay-“
Your words are breathless and desperate but no more desperate than Dabi is when he pulls you forward, crashes his lips against yours. He makes a sound, almost whining as he curls a hand in your hair. And it’s like everything you always thought it would be, as fast and as hot as you’d imagined. The hand on your neck reaches down, dipping under your shirt and pulling it over your head. You’re only in your bra, and you feel shy suddenly. Because you’re not the prettiest girl he’s ever met, you know that. Your arms curl around your body and he pulls away for just one second to shake his head, breathing heavily. His hands pull your arms away, grabbing both your wrists in one.
“Don’t do that, baby. I wanna see you.” He murmurs.
He kisses down your neck. His lips suck marks into your skin, and you should tell him to stop because people will see it all tomorrow but you want him to mark you up. You want him to see them tomorrow, see them at rehearsals and remember it was him who put them there.
He licks at your pulse and he pulls back. He reaches behind and with one hand, unclips your bra. The ease in which he does it should alarm you slightly, but then he continues down, and his hands on your breasts is enough to render any thoughts in your head useless. He grabs them both and he groans.
“These tits. So soft, so beautiful.” He whispers the words into your skin like they’re not even meant for you.
He pinches your left nipple before sucking it into your mouth. You whine, hands reaching up into his hair, tugging at his shirt. Because you suddenly feel horribly underdressed compared to him, shirtless as he moves to give attention to your other nipple. He tugs his shirt up quickly, and you let your hands travel up his torso. You feel the lean muscle under his arms, trace the scars across his body. He lets go suddenly.
“Come on, baby. Take these off.” He tugs at your jeans and you quickly slips them off. His hands slips your underwear away as well, throwing them to the side.
Dabi moves quickly into the floor until he’s kneeling in front of you, arms resting on your legs as he spreads your thighs apart.
“Dabi? What- What are you doing?”
“You call me Touya when I make you come on my tongue, you hear me?”
You curse, breath hitching as he kisses the soft skin of your thighs, fingers rubbing up and down the side of your hip. “It’s okay. You don’t- You don’t have to.”
Dabi, or Touya now, looks confused. He tilts his head slightly, lips red and kissed out, hair mussed from where you had been grabbing it. “Have to? I’ve been dreaming about this pussy for so long, baby, you don’t even know.”
He looks at you with so much want in his eyes. He bites softly into your thigh and you squeal, and he grins.
“If it was up to me, I’d sit you on my face and eat you out until you can’t speak, but. We’re on a time crunch here.”
He presses a chaste kiss to your clit and you shudder. Two fingers reach and part your folds and Dabi makes a low sound in the back of his throat.
“So wet. Is this all for me?”
“Touya, stop teasing.” You huff, squirming in your place.
Touya drags his fingers down, face so close you can feel his breaths. “Ask me nicely.”
“Please, Touya.” You grit out, sitting up in your elbows to glare down at him.
“Please what?”
“Please-“ Your cheeks flush red because he’s not even looking at you. His eyes are focused between your legs like he’s seen heaven between them.
“Please, make me cum, you prick.” You say with a shiver.
And it’s that tiny shiver that seems to set him off because he’s suddenly kissing and sucking at your lips, tongue digging inside your pussy and tracing circles around your clit. Your hips rock forward as you moan, and he holds you down easily so he can continue.
You have been eaten out a few times before. It never felt like something to enjoy, the boyfriend or hookup always doing it to get something over with, to tick a box. But what makes your toes curl, what makes you inch that much closer to cumming, is the fact that Dabi is eating you like a man starved. He’s groaning, eyes fluttering shut as he takes slow, purposeful mouthfuls of your pussy like he’s doing it for him and not you.
“Taste so good. You been hiding this from me?”
“Touya- fuck.” You grab his hair and tug, and he moans.
“Yeah, good girl. Do that again.”
You comply, his name a ramble on your lips as your hips buck again. Your core aches and you voice reaches an embarrassingly high pitch as he kisses your clit again. It takes an embarrassingly short time for you to reach the edge. “Da-Touya, I’m, I’m close,” you breathe, hands clutching at the couch beneath you.
Touya detaches himself from you, eyes glancing up at you. “Yeah? You’re close?”
You nod, whine caught in your throat. Your hips jolt forward as he begins trailing slow circles over your clit with his finger. You whine at the slow contact.
“You wanna cum?”
“Yes. Yes, Touya, please.” You breathe.
“You wanna cum on my tongue, baby?” He whispers and you keen, hand reaching down to tug at his hair again, trying to drag him closer.
“Fucking- Touya, I’ll do it myself if I have to.”
He laughs at that, quickly returning his attention back between your legs. It’s embarrassingly loud as he sucks at your clit, two fingers reaching inside you to press against that spot that has you moaning his name once more.
“Good girl, so fucking pretty cumming all over my face.” He groans.
And then you cum, and Touya easily holds your hips down as they shake, his own grinding into the floor beneath him, and he takes you through an orgasm that racks through your body. You think you might pass out from the pleasure that crashes over you so suddenly. His hands grab at your chest, your neck, and when he kisses you again you can taste yourself on his tongue.
He smiles at you again, this time more elated, a wild look in his eyes.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” It takes you a minute before you can reply. You do so but gesturing him up in his feet.
“Here. Come, get up.” You speak suddenly, still breathing heavily.
Touya looks confused for a second. You drag him up onto the couch, and your eyes trail down, to the obvious bluge in his trousers. And he looks big judging by it, and you think you’re already ready to get off again.
“Your turn. Come on, take these off.” You tap your fingers on his jeans and take his place on the floor.
“God, you know just what to say to a man.”
“Shut up.”
He uses one hand to unbuckle his belt and he’s just showing off now, you know, but it’s hot and he knows it is. He pulls his jeans down his legs and you let them pool at his feet. And when you pull his cock out it’s long and thick, you find the source of all his arrogance. He catches you looking and he huffs a laugh. His breath hitches as you slide your fingers up the side, tongue reaching out to lick at the tip, hard and leaking precum.
“You know, you always, fuck, you always deny it, sweetheart, but look at you.” He groans as you lick a stripe up his cock. “On your knees for me.”
“I always imagined taking you right here, in the studio, bending you over this couch and fucking you until you’re screaming nothing but my name, squirming and begging on my dick.” Your thighs clench and he sees it, a nasty smirk on his face as you take him into your mouth.
“You want that too, angel? Want me to make you scream so loudly everyone comes in and, shit, sees you cumming on my cock? You want that?”
You don’t say anything, can’t, because he fills your mouth so full that you couldn’t speak if you wanted to. His hand reaches into you hair, guiding your head up and down his dick, low moans and grunts leaving his mouth. He’s so vocal, you realise, an endlesss stream of barely coherent praise leaving his mouth as you use yours.
“Fuck, yeah sweetheart, fuck.” His hips buck into your mouth and you nearly choke.
“Come on, I know you can take it. Good girl, good fucking girl.” He groans, pulling your head down further.
Your eyes flutter shut and Touya reaches down with his free hand to brush the tears that fall down your cheeks. You grab into his thighs, nails digging into his skin.
“Taking me so well, baby. Always so fucking mouthy. So pretty when you use it right.” He breathed heavily, jerking into your mouth again.
He starts fucking into your mouth, and you swipe your tongue underneath his dick, the vein that runs down it and he stutters, breathy curses leaving his lips.
“Gonna cum, fuck.”
Your name slips past his lips in tandem as he bucks into your mouth one last time. Your mouth fills and you swallow, and he pats your cheek as you look back up at him, gasping for breath you pull back. His chest heaves and his eyes are shining brightly again but for a very different reason. You trace the scratches you left on his thighs and he in turns rubs a finger on the hickeys that leave a telling trail down your body.
i get so cringed out when i write smut but i wanted to do it so i powered through!!! plz give me any tips if u think its bad i greatly appreciate it. i also had noooo idea how to end this oneshot so i lowkey just stopped writing LMAO
anyway.... bass player dabi u live on in my heart kisses forever
You couldn't help but feel exhilarated, despite the fact that you had just gone out for morning coffee with Maya Keller, who was quickly becoming a beloved coworker. You were a scientist in a small town, and your lifelong fascination with the possibility of the multiverse was largely due to your love of Marvel comics.
Seated across from Maya, you continued to excitedly discuss your latest findings while Maya playfully rolled her eyes, as she had grown accustomed to your frequent musings.
However, your attention was suddenly drawn the moment she mentioned an ancient book.
"You know," Maya began, her voice filled with intrigue, "I recently overheard the elderly lady who runs the antique shop mention something interesting. She apparently possesses a book that, if deciphered properly, has the potential to lead to an open gateway to an alternate universe."
Your guffaw filled the air as you declared, "Now I know you're having a laugh at my expense! Me, stumbling upon a realm-crossing book? That's like finding a needle in a haystack!"
Maya, sipping her coffee, nonchalantly shrugged, her response laced with sincerity. "No, seriously, I overheard old Mrs. Peterson spoke with her shop assistant about it just the other day."
Curiosity gleamed in your eyes, and you leaned in closer, intrigued by the possibility of what Maya was implying.
"You're serious about this book?" you wondered. "Are you certain it's not just some fairytale or an elaborate hoax that Mrs. Peterson concocted to lure naive customers to her shop?"
Maya met your skeptical gaze with a determined and confident look.
"I promise you, it's not some far-fetched tale or a devious marketing trick." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The old lady seemed absolutely convinced this book has mystical powers. Apparently, it's been in her possession for some time, tucked away among her antique books and trinkets."
You stood in the modest shop, engaging in conversation with Mrs. Peterson. The antique bookstore had always been a hidden gem in town, filled with rare finds and hidden treasures. As you approached the counter, your eyes lit up at the sight of a particularly old and worn leather-bound book tucked away in the corner. The title read, "A Gateway to Another," just as Maya said.
"Excuse me," you asked, your voice tinged with excitement. "Is that book for sale?"
But to your disappointment, Mrs. Peterson shook her head, her face expressing genuine regret. "I'm sorry, dear. It's not for sale."
Your eager smile faded, replaced by a frown and a heavy feeling of defeat in your heart. "But why not?" you asked, unable to hide your disappointment.
"It took me a long time to find that book," Mrs. Peterson explained, her voice tinged with regret. "It's not something I can just part with."
As she spoke those words, you felt a stubborn determination rise within you. You had your eyes set on that book, and nothing was going to stop you from taking it home.
You stood there, taking in her words. But rather than being discouraged, the stubbornness in your heart only grew more intense. Your vision narrowed, fixating on that book with an almost possessiveness. You didn't just want it now - you needed it.
"Not for sale, huh?" You muttered under your breath, a plan already taking shape in your mind.
The corners of your lips curled up into a wicked grin as an idea took root in your mind. "Not for sale," you repeated quietly to yourself, a determined glint in your eye.
Mrs. Peterson regarded you curiously, perhaps sensing your stubbornness but unable to understand the nature of your thought process. She seemed oblivious to the fact that you were now plotting a heist of her most treasured possession.
As you pretended to mull over her words, your mind was racing to devise a plan. You couldn't just take the book and run; that would be too obvious. You needed to be subtle to find a moment when Mrs. Peterson's back was turned so you could slip the book into your bag.
You casually browsed around the shop, pretending to look at other books, all the while keeping an eye on Mrs. Peterson to find the perfect opening.
Each second felt like an eternity as you waited for the right moment. Mrs. Peterson was engaged in rearranging some books on a nearby shelf, and her back turned to you. This was it. You couldn't let this opportunity slip away.
Your heart pounded in your chest as adrenaline coursed through your veins, but you forced yourself to move with controlled calm. With swift, quiet steps, you closed the distance between you and the book. It was now or never.
One hand reached out and took the book from the shelf, while the other gripped your bag tightly, ready to conceal your stolen treasure.
As you stood holding the book, a rush of accomplishment surged through you. But you knew you weren't out of the woods yet. The book was safely hidden in your bag, but you still needed to make your escape.
You took one more casual glance around the shop, making sure Mrs. Peterson was still occupied. She was still sorting books, completely oblivious to your grand heist.
Your heart was racing now, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you prepared for your grand escape. You turned and began to slowly start making your way towards the exit, casually walking past Mrs. Peterson, as if nothing had happened.
She didn't even look up, her attention focused on organizing the books on the shelf. You were in the clear.
You hurriedly raced home, eager to decipher the secrets the mysterious book held. Once inside, you laid the book down on your desk, your palms sweaty with excitement and nervousness. Your heart thrummed in anticipation as your fingers flipped through the pages, searching for any clues to the secret of unlocking another world.
As you meticulously poured over the text, a phrase buried deep inside leaped out at you. "The gateway to another realm can be found in the dark depths of a cave."
The words vibrated in your mind like a beacon of hope. A cave, hidden deep within the shadows, held the key to unlocking the realm of endless possibilities. It all seemed like an exciting fantasy, yet the certainty in the book's words felt strangely real.
You spent hours, day in and day out, deciphering and analyzing the ancient text. It was a laborious task, but the knowledge that you were on the precipice of something remarkable kept you fueled with enthusiasm.
Eventually, you felt confident that you had extracted every ounce of knowledge from the book. It seemed to guide you towards a specific cave, a place where the veil between worlds was thin. The cave was far removed from the hustle and bustle of society, hidden in the depths of nature's embrace, offering a sense of seclusion and mystery. Even more intriguing, the moon's radiant presence was crucial. Only when the moon was at its peak in the sky would the portal be accessible.
As the days turned into weeks, you gathered your supplies and prepared for your journey. It was unlike any ordinary trip you had ever taken. You were on a mission to reach a realm beyond imagination. Everything had to be perfect, from the right tools, equipment, and safety measures to the right timing and weather conditions.
As the designated day finally arrived, you woke up before the sun even rose. Excitement and nerves mingled inside you as you reviewed the contents of your backpack one last time. Every essential was packed, and preparations were in order.
The moon was bright in the night sky, its glow casting an almost magical aura across the world. It was now or never.
Hours turned into an eternity, as you pushed on, fueled by adrenaline and the knowledge that the cave was so close, yet so far away. The night grew darker, and the moon grew brighter, almost as if it was guiding you through the treacherous terrain.
After what felt like an endless walk, you finally reached the cave's entrance. Your breathing was labored, and your clothes were soaked with perspiration. However, the sight of the cave's entrance caused a surge of excitement and anxiety to course through your veins.
You stood before the entrance. The darkness inside the cave seemed to devour the moonlight, casting shadows that danced on the ground. You could almost feel the cold, dank air seeping from the cave, a sign of the unknown that lurked within.
Deeper and deeper, you delved into the cave, the darkness enveloping you entirely. Your footsteps echoed off the cavernous walls as you made your way through the rocky passages. Your mind was filled with a mix of apprehension and exhilaration, every nerve tingling in the presence of the unknown.
You moved cautiously through the dark, twisting passages, your flashlight casting fleeting glimpses of the unfamiliar surroundings. Your heart beat like a drum, echoing against the cave's walls as it seemed to amplify your anxiousness. The air felt heavy, as if the cave itself was holding a breath, ready to release something incredible.
After what felt like an eternity of walking, you took a left into a narrow passageway. As you moved further, you spotted a faint blue-green glow. The glow grew brighter as you drew near, until finally, you were standing right in front of it. A ripple, a swirling vortex of multicolored hues that seemed to whisper promises of an otherworldly realm.
You stopped dead in your tracks, your brow furrowing in disbelief and recognition at the familiar voice drifting from the other side of the portal. It took you a moment to place it, the memory fluttering at the edge of your consciousness. As the voice danced through the air, you felt a pull towards the portal, a strange combination of excitement and nostalgia filling you with an inexplicable urge to step through.
"Even if the origin is a power meant to destroy, after you all risked your lives and added to it, it's come to have another meaning."
Your brain seemed to be in overdrive as you tried to place the voice that echoed from the portal. The familiarity of it was undeniable, yet the specific source evaded your grasp. The words rang in your ears, their meaning lost in the haze of recognition. You felt as if the answer was just out of your reach, the memory just a breath away, yet forever elusive.
You stood there, trying to place the familiar voice when suddenly a strange force yanked you from behind, pulling you off your feet and sending you hurtling towards the portal. You couldn't tell if it was gravity, the pull from the vortex, or something else entirely, but before you could process what was happening, you found yourself engulfed in a whirlpool of color and swirling mist.
The world around you blurred into a dizzying vortex of swirling light and color. Your senses seemed to malfunction, leaving you disoriented and confused. Were you flying? Falling? Suspended in some liminal space between reality and fantasy? Whatever it was, the sensation was both surreal and strangely comforting.
As suddenly as it began, the dizziness subsided, leaving you disoriented on the forest floor. Groaning, you struggled to gather your bearings. You lifted your head, gazing around at the unfamiliar surroundings. The forest was dense and shadowy, but the air felt crisp and fresh.
The portal had thrown you into a whole different world.
You stumbled to your feet, brushing the dirt and leaving off your clothes. As your eyes adjusted to the forest's shadowy surroundings, you spotted a trail cutting through the trees leading toward a city in the distance.
Curiosity mixed with relief as the sight of civilization offered a beacon of hope.
With the city as your destination, you began to follow the trail that seemed to lead toward civilization. Your footsteps were slow at first, hesitant after the chaotic experience of falling through the portal, but slowly, your pace picked up, fueled by a mix of excitement and curiosity.
As you walked deeper through the forest, the sounds of wildlife grew quieter, and the hum of human activity grew louder, signaling your nearing arrival to the city.
You stopped in your tracks, taken aback by the foreign language that adorned the signs before you. But as your brain processed the characters, you recognized them as Japanese, a language you had studied in college.
You stared in disbelief, your mind struggling to make sense of this new twist. How could the portal lead you to Japan and not the realm of fantasy you had been seeking?
As you continued walking, perplexed and lost in thought, you glanced at your surroundings. You noticed that people seemed to wear casual clothes, but there were an abundance of teenagers wearing their school uniforms, some even wearing peculiar looking accessories. Curious, you observed them more intensely when suddenly, you spotted something in the distance that made your breath catch in your throat. It was a group of students walking toward a building that you could only guess was a school, a school with the word "U.A" emblazoned on its front.
Your heart rate quickened as you realized where you stood: right in the heart of the U.A. campus, the renowned hero academy. Students walked past you, chatting and laughing amongst themselves, oblivious to the fact that you were a stranger to this world.
Your mind raced with the implications. This couldn't be real, could it? How could a portal lead you to a place you've only read about in manga and watched in anime?
Your feet felt heavy as you stood there, frozen and struggling to process the overwhelming reality that enveloped you. The noise of students chatting and laughing faded into the background as your mind grappled with the fantastical twist of fate that led you to a place you had only read about in manga and watched in anime.
Could this be a dream? A hallucination? Or had you truly stumbled into the world of My Hero Academia, a world you had only admired through the pages of manga and the screen of your anime?
The reality had begun to seep in, slowly but surely. This was not a dream, and it was not some hallucination brought on by your love for the series. You were here, in the world of My Hero Academia, standing in the shadow of U.A High School, surrounded by the young students who possessed incredible superpowers known as "Quirks."
As the sun set, casting the campus in an unfamiliar light, you stood there, taking it all in. You were truly in another world, a world you could never have imagined existed outside the confines of fiction.
SUMMARY: There is no price you will not pay for revenge—and a demon comes to collect.
NOTES: First Prince of Hell Touya, gender neutral Reader, revenge, blood, slight body horror, SFW, 1.9k. I did not actually plan a proper Halloween fic this year so here you go!
It's cold on the crossroads, an icy wind whipping along the pavement, rustling in the trees. It sounds like hundreds of whispers in the dark, though you know the stretch of road around you is empty for miles.
That's the only way to summon the demon you're looking for—the only way they say he will answer. He is too clever to appear where he may be at a disadvantage.
Against one lone human, demon hunter though you may be, he stands every chance. Against you in particular, he fares even better. You are not the strongest in the League, were never the best in your class at the academy. You were more a strategist than a warrior, better with a pen than your regulation silver knife.
Your only certain way out is if the demon you're looking for chooses not to appear—or if his interest is adequately piqued by the deal you're offering. You do not know enough to be certain his attention will be assured.
Despite yourself, you take a breath and scratch his sigil in the dirt at the side of the road. It had taken you years to find, hidden by the Council after losing too many hunters eager to prove themselves against this specific demon.
But you are out for a very particular revenge. You would have searched your whole life if that is what it would have taken.
Nothing happens at first, as the final stroke of his sigil settles into the dirt. You wonder if he's chosen not to come.
But then, slowly, the wind dies down. The rustle of the trees grows softer, then still. The scant slivers of moonlight pool strangely in the road, like liquid silver dripping along the grooves of pavement. The wind trails off into a breeze, then the softest, sweetest hint of feeling, like the touch of a breath at your shoulder.
—A breath at your shoulder.
You jump, reeling sideways at the exhale across your skin. You barely choke down a scream when you catch sight of the man waiting behind you.
He's taller than you expected, long and lean. His looks are also surprisingly human, save for the twisting horns curling out of the inky black of his hair, and the patchwork of purpling burns over his skin, left by a magic you don't even want to contemplate.
He's shockingly handsome, though, under the burns, his features perfect, careful, delicate—almost angelic. His mouth is a soft, sensuous curl, at odds with the hard, exacting blue of his gaze. He is watching you like a cat tracking a bug skittering across the floor, and every particle in your body screams with the desire to flee.
You plant your feet firmly in the dirt instead, trying to steel your nerves. But the First Prince of Hell's mouth lifts, a derisive twist of amusement.
"Your kind might be fooled," he says, his voice a low drawl. "But I can hear your heartbeat, human."
As if on cue, you can feel your heartbeat stutter and skip. But still you still your shaking fingers against your thigh. This is what you have worked for; you have come with a plan.
"Prince Touya," you acknowledge him, willing yourself to sound calm. "I am here to make a deal."
A sardonic eyebrow lifts as his eyes flick meaningfully to the knife at your hip, then back up to your face. "A hunter looking to bargain with a demon?"
You force yourself to look into the burning cerulean of his eyes, twin points of eerie blue in the dim. "Yes."
Touya does not look even mildly interested. "Let me guess, you want me to hold still while you stab."
You certainly do, and Touya smirks when your expression gives you away. But there is one thing you want more than to prove your worth upon a demon prince. One thing you are certain you can only get from him.
"I want you to lure your father out," you grit your teeth, spitting the words out quickly before you lose your nerve.
Prince Touya visibly pauses, expression icing over. The shadows around you seem to deepen, and a cloud draws across the moon, casting you into an even deeper dark. A shiver crawls down your spine.
"My father," he spits out, his tone blacker than the night.
You force yourself to nod. All the legends say there is no love lost between the First Prince and the King of Hell, detailing their many clashes across the eons, and the destruction that followed in their wake. You only hope that they have not found it within themselves to make amends in the five hundred or so years since the most recent accounts were written.
"And what would a little nothing demon hunter do with the King of Hell?" Prince Touya demands, taking a step closer. He moves sinuously, like a curl of mist. "Your blade bears not even a drop of demon's blood—I can smell it."
It is true, you have never killed a demon. "It would not be me. I need you to lure him into the League's trap. And there will be others, many hunters equal to the task."
Prince Touya studies you for a long moment, those eyes glimmering in the dark. "The League's gotten more underhanded since I encountered you last. And what would I get out of this deal?"
"The throne of Hell," you say. "The death of your enemy."
Touya steps closer, near enough that you can feel the heat of him, smell the magic of Hell on him. He smells heady and dark, rich like cinnamon and smoke. His proximity makes your blood race.
"And this trap that's going spring closed will exclude me, will it?" he asks. There's a little rasp on the edge of his voice, you notice.
It wouldn't, and you had hoped the prince would not think to ask it. But he has not survived millennia being stupid.
Your non-answer is enough for him, and he snorts as he walks a wide circle around you. In the silence of the night you can clearly hear the crunch of his boots in the dirt. You stand stock-still and pretend you are not unnerved by his attention, by the way he paces with the slow, unhurried gait of a predator.
"This trap of yours," he says finally, "Who's devised it?"
You feel him pass behind your back. "I did."
"You who have never killed a demon," he says drily.
You try to quell your temper, knowing you would not survive it were you to raise his. "Not directly."
Prince Touya's grin is a wicked thing as he stops in front of you, catching your eye. It is a touch too wide, a touch too pleased. His teeth are too white, canines too sharp.
"I thought hunters were supposed to be honorable," he says, tone gloating.
Many things were supposed to be that weren't. Your family was supposed to be alive, for one. But the King of Hell had seen to that, and now nothing was as it should have been.
"I thought demons were supposed to crave deals," you reply. A non answer.
Touya circles behind you again, passing close enough that your skin prickles.
"I want something else," he says finally, clearly enjoying the way it makes you stiffen. "The death of my father is something I can do myself. I'll need more if I'm to change my mind."
"What else do you want?" you ask.
Prince Touya stops in front of you again, too close for comfort. He is warm, too warm. His handsome face twists in another grin.
"A blood oath," he says, leaning down to catch your gaze.
A streak of fear tears down your gut. A blood oath would bind you to him, something he could easily leverage to escape what you had planned. It would ensure you could never raise a hand against him, would be compelled to obey him were he to come calling.
And demons always, always came calling.
Good sense told you to refuse, but of course good sense had told you never to come here in the first place. The First Prince's demise was a hoped-for bonus, but the King of Hell was who you were really after. You had all but already made up your mind.
In the end, there is only one choice to be made.
"Fine," you accept, letting a slow breath out. Your hand falls to your belt for your silver knife, unstrapping it and drawing it across your palm before you can talk yourself out of it.
Touya's eyes track the well of blood, glinting, a twinge of delight passing across his beautiful features. He raises a black claw and pricks his own palm open, pressing his hand to yours, fingers closing over you.
You nearly startle out of your skin at the feeling of those long fingers on your skin, the careful rasp of his claws over your wrist. His hold on you helps steady you when you realize his blood is not pooling the same way as yours—it’s moving, sliding as if of its own volition into the cut on your palm, seeping inside you as your own continues to pour out.
You have to close your eyes to keep from feeling sick.
There's a sweep of heat through your veins as he settles deeper into your bloodstream, warming you like a shot of whiskey. It settles into something almost pleasant, then disappears, as if growing dormant within you. And then it’s over.
And then it’s done.
Your eyes blink back open when you feel Touya’s hand shift yours in his grip, and then he raises your hand to his mouth, licking across your palm. It’s another shock of warmth, his mouth surprisingly soft, gentle against your injury. His long eyelashes flutter shut as he tastes you, and it's all you can do to hold still again, not to curl away in disgust or embarrassment—or anything else.
Touya's eyes glow brighter when he raises them to your face again, and a pleased smile curls his mouth.
"Just as sweet as you look," he purrs, and you prickle. But disturbingly, he genuinely seems to mean it, tongue passing across his bottom lip to sweep up more of the taste of you.
Something unsettled churns in your gut.
You wonder if you haven’t gotten yourself into something deeper than you’d understood.
But Touya is already moving, pressing a wry kiss to your palm in a horrible mockery of intimacy. Then he steps away, leaving you feeling strangely cold.
"A pleasure doing business with you, little hunter," he tells you, as a scant breeze begins to pick up at your feet again. A few leaves skitter across the pavement, almost deafening against the prior silence.
The first glimmer of moonlight almost blinds you as the clouds move again, the wind starting back up. The dim pools and gathers around Prince Touya as he melds back into the dark, stepping back as if into a patch of shadow.
"I'll be seeing you very soon," he promises, his voice growing soft and low.
You don’t doubt it, and another shiver creeps down your spine. But it’s too late to go back now, and Touya knows it too.
The last thing you see before he disappears is that white smile in the dark—before you're left alone with the weight of the decision you've just made. And the cost of your revenge.
synopsis; dabi as a father - who knew he was such a family guy?
You click the small white circle towards the bottom of your phone for just about the hundredth time, angling your phone over Dabi as he slept soundly - the white haired baby on his chest peering up at you with a gummy smile
You giggle, pocketing your phone as you reach your hand forward to ruffle your little baby boy's unruly white hair while dabi shifts in his sleep, mumbling your name before he goes slack again
"He's tired, hm?" You hum, carefully lifting the baby off of his broad chest as you lay yourself on the couch beside Dabi, pushing your baby's hair from his forehead as an adorable pair of eyes stared back at you
"We really need to cut your hair." You huff, pushing back yet another stray strand out of the baby's eyes as he babbles something - staring at his dad with a chubby, outstretched hand
Dabi's eyes flutter open - and his hands instinctively reach towards his chest which felt entirely too light - but his eyes catch onto your smiling figure as he slowly turns to you with a lazy grin
"Punk woke up before me, huh?"
As if in response to his words, the little baby in your arms lets out a gurgle of excitement with twinkling eyes - crawling towards his father as Dabi outstretches his arms to welcome him into his embrace
He nestles right onto Dabi's chest, and soon enough - you too are curling yourself against his bare skin with a content sigh, smiling when you see Dabi already looking at you
"Want another one?"
Your smile falters in surprise as you attempt to form a coherent response - sputtering out a quiet huh?! as Dabi laughs loudly
"What? He's pretty cute. Look at him chewing on my shirt - we can get another one to chew on yours so it's fair." He says casually, pulling back your son's cheeks gently from his tattered shirt at the little boy whines - latching his gummy teeth back onto Dabi's shirt the second he looks away and turns towards you
"Or maybe they'll both chew on your shirt." You mumble, huffing in embarrassment from Dabi's previous comment.
How long have you and Dabi been together? Years. Even after all this time, he can still leave you blushing wildly with his shamelessly flirtatious comments.
Dabi grins a lopsided smile, peering down at the sleepy baby on his chest as he tilts his head, staring down into the little boy's eyes
They were a pair of eyes he once hated, they reminded him entirely of his father and reflection in the mirror - oh the nights he'd spent begging silently for his baby to have your wonderful eyes. But things had changed quickly. Now, he lived to see those cerulean eyes crinkle with life and laughter. It was such a sight to see.
"He's teething. We gotta get him some sort of a chew toy I think." You say quietly, and Dabi scoffs
"Like a dog?" He smirks - and you glare at him, gently slapping his chest while trying to keep yourself from smiling
"No dumbass, like - well, I don't know." You suddenly say, a tinge of frustration clear in your tone as you look at the baby who peers back cluelessly - it's hard not to smile when he reaches forward and starts playing with your hair
"Hey...come on now, we'll figure this out." He says determined, ruffling the little boy's hair with a sharp grin "It's my baby boy, he'll be fine. Matter of fact - he'll be the best. You and me as his ma and pop? Oh, bless his soul." He teases, gently tugging on your hair in the same manner the little boy in his lap did - and you squirm with a laugh when he moves his palm further back, cradling your head and pulling on the strands with an oddly loving look in his eyes
"Ok, ok! He can barely walk - you really think he's all that though, huh?" You giggle, nudging your son's chubby cheek with a curled knuckle as Dabi rolls his eyes with a small smile, tracing circles lightly on your hip as he shrugs
"He could totally kick my ass."
"He can't even talk!"
"Sure he can! Say dad." Dabi commands, looking down at the little boy as he babbles something curiously - looking between you and Dabi with wide eyes
You giggle quietly, watching Dabi trying to get the baby to say dad over and over again - his confidence in the little baby never once diminished. Over the next couple of days, you'd catch him trying to get your son to say the word 'dad' far too many times.
You'd tease him relentlessly for it - but he'd bounce back with a cocky response, defending the white haired baby perched on his hip as he huffed and pouted.
You should've taken Dabi's stubbornness into account - his relentless nature was fueled by his determination, and your baby seemed to fall victim to this fact.
It's only a few weeks later when you're laying with Dabi in bed after putting your son down for a nap when you hear a quiet cry from his nursery - you lift your head off of his chest, but he pushed you back down gently
"I got it - go back to sleep."
After mumbling a response, you sink into the pillow and prepare to fall asleep - but Dabi's thunderous footsteps sound through the hall, and you quickly sit up in bed with confusion when you hear him yelling
"He said it! Say it again, you punk! Say it say it!"
"Dadda" the little boy gurgles, and your eyes shine with excitement as you immediately leap out of bed, running over and enveloping the pair in a hug
"Your daddy just wouldn't leave you alone, hm?!" You squeal, your son's very first words echoing through your mind as your lips pull into a toothy grin
Dabi puffs out his chest proudly - and the look of pure fulfillment on his face has you smiling harder.
His own little family - he'd finally felt the love of a real home.
This fic is canon-compliant which means it will contain canon violence, themes, and events. It also contains: themes of manipulation and kidnapping; heavy drug use and side effects including substance abuse, addiction, and withdrawal; emotional and psychological abuse; quirk and quirkless discrimination; forced quirk use; and accidental pregnancy later on. This fic contains smut and is only intended for a mature audience.
Chapter 1:
A parrotbill that tries to walk like a stork will break its legs
It’s an ideology that human beings have thrived off of for centuries. It holds the status quo in its iron grip, never wavering no matter how much time has passed, no matter how much cultures change, no matter how people evolve.
Sirens blare loudly as rain pours down heavily at the scene. A reporter with a mouse-like face and ears stands in the dark, illuminated by the film crew’s lighting equipment.
“At 10:22 P.M., a strange quirk appears to have manifested late in a young man while he was hiking. Many artifacts of ancient origin have miraculously appeared from a vortex unknowingly created by him. The amount of artifacts is so large, it has overwhelmed the area, causing many other hikers to get lost and injured in the rubble. The man in question is currently in the care of the pro-heroes who arrived on the scene, however no further information has been given. All artifacts will be taken in for evaluation at this time.”
The man watching the television clicks the broadcast off. A smirk stretches along his mouth as his tending physician approaches him.
“What would you like for me to do?” a short and plump man asks.
“Send someone to find any survivors.”
If the potential of a single human being is among the wreckage, his plans could come to fruition even quicker. It doesn’t matter either way. He has curated this path with the intention of multiple outcomes.
If he’s lucky, he’ll have a fresh little birdie to sing for him.
Chapter 2:
Alone
It’s a strange dream to have, but only the odd feeling of it lingers; details of the dream become long lost to the void in your subconscious. The faint echoes of people screaming fade away as you fully awaken.
The first thing you notice before opening your eyes is the pungent smell of antiseptic. The bright fluorescent lights of a hospital room fill your vision, and you rub your eyes to remove the leftover sleep. It’s difficult to remember what you had been doing, but to have ended up in the hospital seems quite unlikely. The intense feeling that something is wrong overwhelms your gut. Peering around the room, you take notice of small details: the counter on the far left with a small sink, and cabinets hanging above it; the small round stool with wheels in the corner; the IV bag and drip that connects to the needle taped securely inside of your inner elbow. Most curiously, is the drawing taped on the wall beside your bed. Colorful words are scrawled in crayon, and written in Japanese. A tiny round bird with brown feathers and short stick-like legs is drawn haphazardly on it. You supposed it was created by a child.
The door to your room swings open. Your head snaps in the direction to see a man with a charming smile in a white coat entering. He’s holding a clipboard with several papers attached to it. “Good morning,” he says warmly with an accent noticeably different from your own. “You’ve been asleep for three days. I’m surprised you woke up this soon.”
“What happened? Where am I?”
“There was an incident, and when you were found, you were nearly dead. We had to perform surgery, but you pulled through!” The man’s enthusiasm doesn’t aid in your understanding.
What the fuck, is all you can think. The heavy pounding inside of your chest makes your mouth run dry. “What-what surgery?”
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything major. My name is Doctor Ito, by the way.” He walks over to a counter on the other side of the room. His back faces you while he works. “I’m going to add some medicine to your IV to help with the pain.” He returns to your side and before you can protest he pierces a needle through the part of the IV where drugs are administered.
“I don’t have any pain,” you inform him.
He winks. “Not yet, but you might soon. This is just a preventative measure for your comfort.”
“What happened to me?”
Answers. You demand answers, but the man only avoids your dire need.
“It’s all rather complicated, so I’ll try to explain simply…”
The doctor’s voice trails off as you feel a warm haze cloud your mind. Your skin tingles lightly, and it makes you want to giggle. You feel the stress that had started to accumulate begin to release, your mind easing as the medicine takes effect. You hardly hear a word he says, barely listening as you focus your attention on the strange medication now coursing through your veins.
Fuck…
“There was a what?” you ask.
“A [...] related incident,” he clarifies, “and you were found at the scene. But you’re safe now and in good hands.” He smiles, giving you reassurance.
He says the single word in Japanese, not bothering to translate it. You’re not sure if you feel reassured, but he seems so nice. He would never lie to you, right? His smile is warm, and he’s a little handsome if you squint.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
You hum in response, “Just looking.”
He chuckles at your answer. “I’m afraid the head physician who performed the surgery can’t meet with you due to privacy reasons, so I’ll be taking care of you from now on. We will keep you under our care for a full week to make sure you are stable. After you are discharged, you will finally get to go to your new home.”
“A new home?”
“Yes, with your new family. I’m sorry, but due to the incident, you won’t be able to return home.”
As if things couldn’t get more confusing , you think. “Oh, that’s sad. I gotta call my mom to tell her though,” you say to him. You wish you could move, but the dose of whatever medication was in that syringe has your body feeling heavy and your brain too fuzzy to think. Need to move… Need to run…
“I’m sorry, that also won’t be possible.” He turns away, returning his attention to the clipboard in his hands. “But rest assured they will be notified.”
Everything is confusing. What the doctor is saying isn’t adding up in your brain, and the medicine he gave you makes it hard to think. At least there’s no pain. And he seems so nice… you muse. That feeling from before boils in your stomach, but the drugs make the thin hospital blanket on top of you feel weighted like lead. No he’s not nice, I need someone. Parents… siblings… I have my ex’s number memorized… someone safe…
Your mind feels like it’s racing, thoughts overlapping and crashing into each other like waves.
I want to lie down.
You remember you are lying down.
Where am I again?
“While you’re in our care, you’re going to be learning Japanese,” he informs you.
“Why Japanese?”
“Because you’re in Japan. And since you’re recovering, you’ll have plenty of time to study. I’ll even practice with you.” He beams.
So nice…
“Oh, ok. And I’ll be really smart?”
“Yes, you’ll be absolutely perfect.”
Tag list sign up @moriihana @what-the-stories-have-foretold
2087
jacobvanloon
areudirty
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
prguitarman
stormborns
