SolRook has my attention rn

It started when he came in the first time. He was with friends, but he wasn’t paying them any mind. He was looking around the bookstore—at the other customers, the employees, and occasionally the books. He didn’t hold much interest in those his friends approached. But when they passed the horror section, his focus shifted. 

You hadn't intended to stare, but you were shelving books at the other end of the bookcase, and he'd caught your eye. Dark clothes, dark hair, piercings that littered his features. Blue eyes that seemed to hold a world of mystery behind them and a smile that absolutely killed. 

And when he glanced up and caught you staring, he aimed that wicked grin right at you. 

You felt like you belonged in a vampire novel, dressed in some sheer white nightgown as the vampire love interest got ready to devour you. 

Then he winked, and the stomach-twisting, skin-tingling reaction you felt was deep. 

You were the first to look away, forcing yourself to return to work. Overly aware of how your hands shook, you took a steadying breath as you shelved book after book. But in the corner of your vision, you caught him picking up a book and pretending to read the back cover. But his eyes kept flickering back to you. His gaze was too hot to not notice. It felt like flames trickling down the back of your neck.

"(Y/N)!" Your manager said in your ear, and you jumped, almost pulling the little communicator earpiece out. "Can you hop on register? We're backed up a bit here."

You had to take a moment to catch your breath. For some unknown reason, you stole a peek at the dark-haired customer and he seemed personally amused at your reaction. Your cheeks burned as you glanced down at the cart and pressed the little button on your communicator. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You pushed the cart as out of the way as you could manage and tried not to move too awkwardly to the front. 

You were secretly grateful you'd been called up—you weren't liking how hot it was starting to feel in that row. Being behind the register helped satiate the tingling in your chest. Until you got the line of customers down, blinded by each person walking up to you before you could even flag them down. And then, when you glanced up to help the next person, the dark-haired stranger was standing right in front of you. 

“Hi,” you muttered—all your subconscious customer service script out the window. 

“Hi,” he purred. Purred. He handed you his book, his fingers covered in silver rings. 

You looked down at it and momentarily forgot you were supposed to ring it up. A horror book, a title you recognized only from having just shelved a copy. Mentally slapping yourself, you cleared your throat and scanned the barcode. 

“Uh, do you have a rewards card with us?” 

“No, I’m new to town.” His hand rested on the counter and he drummed his fingers. 

"Would you like to sign up for one?" You inhaled shakily. "I can do it for you right now or you can sign up later online. It's a fifteen-dollar annual charge."

“Next time.” 

“That works.” You nodded a little too much. “Want a bag?”

“Sure.” He gave you a small smirk and you felt it in your chest. 

"Okay, can do. Uh, that'll be nineteen dollars and eighty-five cents. Will that be cash or card?"

"Cash." He passed you a twenty and you muttered a thank you, fumbling with the change as the drawer opened. You were out of nickels so you had to either open a roll or go for pennies. With how nervous you felt, you opted for pennies. Until you dropped two of them after you'd closed your drawer and sighed. 

“Sorry,” you murmured and fell to your knees, fumbling to find the two that fell. Attempting a laugh, you got them and stood, giving him a tight smile as you passed him his change. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

His fingers grazed yours, and it was a striking contrast of warm skin and cold metal—it made your heart race. You almost jerked your hand back at the contact, but you seemed frozen in place until he pulled his hand away. 

“Thanks.” You slid his receipt into the cover of his book, then his book into the bag, and pushed it towards him. “Have a good day, sir.”

His eyes dropped down to the apron you wore as he took his bag. “You too, (Y/N).”

You bit your lip as you watched him leave, standing behind the register even when there were no customers left waiting. Five minutes—it was a total of five minutes between seeing him in the little aisle and at the register. And you felt too hot, and your heart was beating too fast. 

Your manager had to dismiss you before you collected yourself to go back to your cart. The rest of your shift flew by because you kept thinking back to the dark-haired stranger with the really blue eyes and the silver jewelry and the wicked smile. 

The desire to know more outweighed the nerves of meeting new people. And it was only the desire to know more—nothing else. 

Unfortunately, working at a bookstore meant you might not see him again for a while. So by the time you woke up for your shift the next morning, your hopes had dwindled. He was just another customer—someone you’d maybe see again in a month. He probably wouldn’t even remember you if he did come back. 

So you worked your whole shift telling yourself he wasn’t coming in. You weren’t going to see him again. He bought one book, he probably wouldn’t be back until he finished it. And if he was a slow reader, that could be weeks or months. If at all. 

A small part of you wished he'd still come in, and you subconsciously kept glancing towards the entrance. But he didn't come in. Not that shift, not the one the next day, and not the one the day after that. Thankfully, you had more luck focusing on literally anything else on your day off. You baked, procrastinated cleaning, read, and then grabbed dinner and a movie out of town with friends. 

It was a good day—it was nice. And then you were back home, asleep in bed and readying yourself to wake up for your next shift. 

You were tired. More tired than you liked for what was going to be a nine-hour shift. You went from shelving books to hopping on register the whole time—it was too much walking for how much you wanted to be at home and in bed. 

By hour eight, you were shelving books a little too slowly, tired of pushing the cart, so your manager put you on register. It was slow enough that you got to stand there and just unwind. Until you had to make yourself look busy, so you turned around and adjusted the magazines and books that were kept for display behind the counter. It was pointless trying to make it look perfect; nobody ever bought them. But it passed the time.

“Little to the left,” a voice said behind you and you jumped, spinning around and seeing those pretty blue eyes. He was holding up—unexpectedly—a book. “Hi again.”

“Hi,” you breathed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be…uh. Sorry. Let me get you checked out.”

He handed you his book and you scanned it, trying your best not to show your excitement at seeing him again. 

"Did you sign up for the rewards program?" You slid his book into a bag, and he shook his head. 

“Nah, forgot.”

"You know it does save you a fair bit of money." Most times, you would've just waved the customer along—they weren't interested, and your manager wasn't around for you to push the card. But you wanted to talk to him more. "Want me to sign you up?"

“Next time.” 

You nodded and totaled the order. “That’s what you said last time.”

He handed you the cash and shrugged. "You remember that interaction pretty well, don't ya." The implication went unsaid and your cheeks flushed. 

“We don’t get a lot of new faces—so the new folks tend to be more memorable.” It was the best cover you could come up with and you made his change. “Here you go, sir.”

“Dabi,” he said as he took the change. “Let you put a name to this new face.”

“Well, welcome to town, Dabi.” You held out a hand, leaning over the counter as smooth as you could manage. 

Dabi smirked and took your hand, giving it a firm shake. “Thanks.”

His hand lingered in yours, just as his glittering eyes and devious smirk did, and the sound of footsteps made you jerk it back. Fraternizing with the customers could get you in trouble. You rolled your shoulders and put your hands on Dabi's bag, pushing it towards him as your manager walked up behind you, moving to take a till from another register. 

Dabi cocked a brow as his eyes went from you to your manager, following them as they started to leave.

“Uh, have a good evening, sir,” you muttered and Dabi’s eyes finally went back to yours. 

“Yeah.” He took the bag. “You too.” 

You watched him leave yet again, wishing you hadn't been stuck behind a register so you could talk to him a little longer. But you were stuck there, your heart racing as he stole a glance back at you and winked. 

That night, when you got home and fell asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow, you got another glimpse of Dabi. It was nothing more than him coming up behind you at the bookstore, reaching over your shoulder for a book. His chest pressed against your back and he cocked his head to the side as he read the back blurb. 

"Interesting," he breathed beside your ear. He turned the cover over but in its place was a mirror, showing your reflection. He rested his chin on your shoulder as he looked into the mirror. His mouth grazed your neck and his eyes were a sharper, devilish blue as he looked at you. "Like what you see?"

You woke up as you felt his hand slide onto your waist. 

Shaking your head and running your hands over your face, you got up and got ready for the day. 

You saw him four more times after that. That day, the next, and twice a few days later. Three consisted of him coming to your register or the one next to it. The one time he didn't, your coworker was riddled speechless and stuttered through their words worse than you did. 

Each of those three times, he said hello, goodbye, and see you later. You tried not to get your hopes up that maybe he wasn't just coming to your register because he liked you as a cashier. Or that his smiles were just him being polite—the same way yours were for every other customer. Which was why you tried your best to differentiate it. 

Although it wasn't hard to do whenever you got a little shy when he came around. He made you nervous in ways you weren't used to but secretly liked. He was handsome, he was a person you hadn't known all your life, and he drove you absolutely wild in ways you didn't even let yourself explore behind closed doors. 

You just hoped the flirting was reciprocated, and it wasn't you embarrassing yourself every time he came in. 

But then the fourth time rolled around, and you found him getting a coffee from the small cafe the store had. He glanced up as you pushed a cart from the back, and he smirked as your eyes locked. 

“Hi.” You stopped beside him as he sauntered up. There was still a ways to go to the horror section, but Dabi was right there. “You either must really neglect your books, or you're a very fast reader with how often you come in here."

“I wonder.” He nodded at the cart. “Where you headed?”

“Horror.” 

“Care for some company?”

“Sure.” 

Dabi walked beside you, occasionally sipping his drink until you got to the section. He hung back a bit as you set the cart in place and started to do what you were supposed to. But it was hard when every time you walked by Dabi, his eyes glanced up and watched you. 

"It's neither." He peered over his shoulder as you grabbed another group of books from the cart, and you stopped, brows furrowed. 

“What is?” 

“Why I come to the bookstore.” He put the book back and his mouth tipped into a smirk. “I like the company. Far better than any book.”

Your entire body burned as Dabi's eyes slowly dropped down to your mouth. He didn't even move—all he was doing was looking at you and looking damn good while he did it—and it went directly south. A twisting sensation was building and you realized you were breathing a little too quickly. 

“Yeah, I’m finding I like the company more these days than normal.” You bit your lip and Dabi tipped his chin up. 

“(Y/N).” 

You jumped as the manager on duty for the afternoon came up beside you, looking between you and Dabi. He was significantly more strict than the other managers, and you cringed. You didn't want any marks—you were a good worker, you'd proved that the past three years you worked there. But he was strict. 

“You shouldn’t be fraternizing on the job. We have an upkeep to maintain, you know this. Don’t make me remind you again.”

“Right. Sorry, sir. I—”

“She’s helping me find a book.” Dabi wasn’t a big guy—his frame was lean and if he was toned, it was hidden under his dark coat and clothes. But he took up space and dominated it like a bigger person would. He gave the manager a sickening smile. The innocence looked wrong on him. “Didn’t mean to steal her away.”

There was a pointless challenge issued there. Either cause a scene and call Dabi out on the lie—which would also anger a customer—or just accept it and move on. The manager went with the latter, nodding and telling you to carry on. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you grabbed more books to shelve. “But I appreciate it.”

“I’m aware. You weren’t going to, so I figured I should.” 

“I wasn’t going to what? Lie?” 

"Oh, don't tell me you don't lie." Dabi gave you a skeptical look, and you frowned. 

“Not when it isn’t necessary. Lies stack up. Besides, I panicked. I’ve worked here long enough for them to know I don’t break the rules.”

"Ever?" His eyes widened, and he scoffed. "You don't break the rules here?"

“I…don’t usually break rules.” You glanced away. “I don’t like being a troublemaker.” 

Dabi nodded, stepping closer, his finger dragging along the shelves until he was right beside you. He pretended to look at the spines of the books, angling until his shoulder touched yours. 

“You’re a goody-two-shoes.” He chuckled under his breath and you latched onto it. “That’s adorable.” 

“I am not.” You narrowed your eyes—the books were out of order on the shelf. “It’s just easier avoiding conflict. Besides, I’m like the best employee here and everyone knows it. I like that.”

“Oh.” Dabi’s smirk deepened. “So you like to be praised.” 

“I didn’t say that. No, see, it’s about proving my worth—”

"Uh-huh." Dabi leaned a little closer and your hands twitched as you rearranged the books to the correct order. "So, let's say I'm your manager and I notice you handled a difficult customer well. You wouldn't like it at all if I pulled you aside and praised you for it?" 

Your chest felt a little tight at the thought, making it hard to speak. 

"Little hard to imagine you as my manager. Don't know if you could pull off the apron." You purposefully put some space between you, going back to get more books as the air turned hot and got unreasonably thicker.

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

When you returned, it was only about an inch away from Dabi, and he turned his back to the shelves, leaning against them casually. 

“If I pulled you aside and said ‘you handled that well, atta girl,” you wouldn’t like it?” He tilted his head towards you, his eyes glinting as they met yours. “Or maybe you’d prefer ‘good girl’ instead.”

You dropped the book you were holding and Dabi smirked as you frantically went to pick it up. 

You couldn’t speak for a few moments—the man had stolen the ability. With your heart ready to burst from your chest and a growing desire between your legs that ached for something to satiate it, you were fighting a losing battle. And Dabi knew it. The wicked smirk he gave you was like he could practically read your mind. 

So you tried to hold your ground. 

“I’d say it’d be condescending.” But you weren’t a liar. “From my other managers. I think from you, I could make an exception.”

"So then you admit it." He reached up and turned you to look at him, his fingers lightly grazing your chin and then your jaw. "You like to be praised."

“Fine,” you muttered, breath stolen. “Maybe I do.”

“Loves praise, doesn’t lie, and hates breaking the rules.” Dabi scoffed and pushed himself up from the bookcase. He leaned close and his fingers skimmed down your neck. “What a good girl.”

He was halfway down the aisle when you finally took a breath. It was shaky and you felt the twisting need rip all the way through your body as you watched him leave. 

“You work tomorrow?” He spun, eyes dragging over your frame. 

“Twelve to eight.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

You’d never looked forward to a shift more. 

Even if the current one took an eternity to end. It was annoying trying to work when all you kept doing was replaying Dabi’s words. You could get drunk off of him calling you good girl. It sounded really good coming from him. From anyone else, you’d cringe or even snap back. But his stuck with you into your dreams where he whispered it over and over. Nothing was even happening—it was just him telling you how good of a girl you were for him. 

Then he was there the next day at one, buying another coffee, finding you at your cart. His eyes looked bluer, and he'd changed his piercings out—still silver like his rings, but sword and skull earrings hung from either ear and he'd painted his nails black. 

He slid up behind you, stealing the book that was right over your shoulder. It was a romance novel and you almost laughed had he not spoken first.  

“Afternoon, good girl. Sleep well?”

He had to be a mind reader. 

“Fine. And you, fine and loyal customer?” 

“Slept great.” He sat the book back and leaned against the shelves again. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“Should I give you my schedule? I can let the store know I have an official stalker.” You tried your best teasing smile, but you were still recovering from his good girl greeting. 

“Schedule would work, sure.” He met your gaze. “Wanted to see if you were free tomorrow evening.” 

You sat the books down and bit your lip, desperately trying to control your heart. “And why would you want to know that?”

"New in town. Was hoping you could show me the best place to visit." 

“There are a few places I could show you.” You sucked in your cheeks and went back to shelving. “Don’t know if any of them are your style, but I know some places.” 

“Dinner then. Meet me here at six.” 

“Here?” You looked around the store. “You want to meet here?”

“Well, I want to drive you.” He pushed up and walked around you. “But I don’t want you to think I’m actually stalking you.”

“Fine, dinner.” You were trying to hold back your smile. Dinner didn’t mean it was a date. “Wear something nice. Just in case.”

“Deal.” He raised his cup as he backed out of the aisle. “See you tomorrow night.” 

"Yeah, see ya." 

Excitement roared through you, and you almost dropped the next set of books you picked up. You had a potential date with Dabi. A date with Dabi! You weren't usually someone who squealed from happiness—at least not in public—but it was a fight not to do it a few times at work. Every time the thought came back to you, you wanted to jump for joy. 

Actually getting to spend time with him outside of work was insanely exciting. Yeah, there was the worry you wouldn't get along or there wouldn't be any chemistry. But that was low on your list of concerns, considering how just the one conversation stuck with you until you went home and went to bed. 

There was also the worry that Dabi only wanted one thing from you—but he wouldn't have come back day after day just for sex. Or he was just extremely dedicated. Now that thought stayed with you, but not in the ways you'd been expecting. You'd been on dates where your partner expected sex. But those were always bad dates. They lasted one or two times, they were awkward, and way too heavy-handed. 

You weren’t against sex or a one-night stand, but all the prospects had been so…uninspiring. Boring. 

There was no spark. 

And you needed a spark. A spark ensured a sort of insurance for your insecurities. But Dabi didn’t need to know about those, not until you got to the money shot. If at all. You could try and fake it—probably. 

If there was a spark—and you were fairly certain there was going to be—you had nothing to worry about. Even if that’s all Dabi wanted. You weren’t that old-fashioned. 

You couldn’t find anything to wear. You ransacked your closet trying to find something that was just right, but there was nothing. It was already three, and you'd gone through so many different outfits you were going to drive yourself insane. If you weren't already there. 

So you bit the bullet and drove to the closest clothing store—a small boutique about five miles away that had an assortment of different clothes. They were in the middle of restocking when you got there, making their sizes extremely varied from item to item, and the few things you did find and like weren’t in your size. 

Not the black romper or the purple blouse or the flowy red skirt. 

But then there was a little white sundress. The sales clerk that you'd managed to bond with during the extent of your time there—it was just the two of you in there, after all—held it up. You came out of the dressing room with a frown, dissatisfied with the previous ill-fitting items when she held up the sundress. 

"How about this?" She handed the spaghetti strap dress to you and you eyed it carefully. You'd intended on taking Dabi to a hole-in-the-wall Italian joint—white clothes didn't always go well with red sauce—but the dress was really cute. "My girlfriend swears by sundresses for date nights—they're easy to dress up or down. Guess I do too because she always rocks them."

"Let me try it." You smiled, slipping back behind the curtain.

It was a little tight in places but it was the places you could get away with that. Specifically in the chest, and since it was slightly low cut, it accentuated your cleavage. It hugged your figure a bit along your torso and flowed out around your hips. And when you spun, the skirt flared beautifully. 

It was a bit see-through, though. You were wearing pale pink underwear and it was very clear what color they were. So you led with that when you stepped out, the sales clerk beaming when she saw you.

“That’s it, that’s the one.” She held up her hands. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make a sale—that dress just looks damn good on you.”

"Yeah but…" You angled your hip forward and the sales clerk pursed their lips.

“Got any white underwear at home? You should be fine with that.”

“I don’t.” You owned about every color of underwear under the sun except white. 

“One sec, hold on.” She ran into the back for a minute, and when she returned, she was holding a white bra and underwear set that made your cheeks burn. “Now, it’s a little spicy, but…if you look good underneath, your confidence will, too." 

“Alright, let me try it on.”

You ended up getting the set. The bra had a bit of a push-up effect, accentuating your chest even more in the dress. And the underwear was a sheer and thin lace, so when the fabric fell over you, even under direct lighting, there weren't lines or any color sneaking through. If you pulled the skirt back, though, the little bow on the front was visible. But odds were that wasn't going to happen, so you paid it no mind. 

You slid on some black strappy sandals and grabbed a red purse to carry your stuff. A glance in the mirror showed that the sales clerk hadn’t just been hyping you up for a sale. You looked damn good. 

You looked damn good and you had a night planned to prove it to Dabi. 

Excited and practically bubbling over with excitement and nerves, you drove over to the bookstore, slipping out of your car just a few minutes before six. 

Dabi was already there, waiting outside the front, and you swallowed your nerves as you approached him. He wore his black dress-shirt way too well. Dressed in all black, he looked like the vampire version of him that you'd thought of the first time you saw him. The skull-themed rings and jewelry did nothing but accentuate that image in your mind. 

And you wore the white dress and all. 

“Wow.” He pushed up from the wall, hands sliding out of his pockets. “I wondered what you looked like outta that apron, but my imagination did not do you justice. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Your body flushed. “You look good too.”

“So tell me,” he murmured as he sauntered up to you. “Where am I taking you tonight?” 

"Let's go, and I'll show you." 

Despite Dabi being a man of few words, the small talk was fairly easy as you walked to his small car. A small black four-door with a navy and gray interior. You sat comfortably in the passenger seat, even if the small space put you close to Dabi, your eyes occasionally dropping to where his hand rested on the shifter. His thumb ran over the leather knob and you were scaring yourself with what that did to you. 

“Left here,” you blurted after staring a little too long at it. “And you can park in the small parking lot on the right.”

Luckily, Dabi liked Italian. So you’d picked well. He got your door for you, which surprised you, and his hand went to your back as you walked towards the entrance. He whispered after you as he opened the front door and you smiled at the hostess. It may have been small, but you’d called ahead and set a reservation just to be safe. Dabi grinned behind you, hand returning to your back, acting as the only physical contact he’d given you so far. 

And you wanted more. 

It was sort of awkward when you got seated. You were at a two-person table in the corner, setting it up to very clearly look and feel like a date when you hadn't discussed the nature of the outing. But Dabi seemed unbothered, looking over the menu silently and ordering easily when the waiter took your drink order. 

The conversation wasn’t bad, but you were overly aware of how hard you were trying to not come off as an excited interrogator. You wanted to know more about him, but you didn’t want him to feel like you were asking for his life story. But Dabi answered the questions with a sly smile each time. 

He was in town for college. It was cheaper to stay with a friend locally and drive to the campus than paying for all the on-campus amenities. He tutored students in chemistry on the weekends, and worked part-time on campus some days. He lived on the other side of town, and he'd moved in two days before you met at the bookstore, his friends showing him around. 

“I was told that was the only spot worthwhile on this side of town.” He sipped his drink. “Glad I listened to them.”

His eyes were darker under the romantic lighting of the restaurant. And they were doing things to you that you couldn’t explain. 

"So, is this where you take all your dates?" He cocked a brow when another worker walked by and said hello to you—marking the fourth time someone there had greeted you by name. 

“No, no. It’s just close to my house and I like the food.” You held up your hands, the words stammering out. It was hard to ignore Dabi—whether purposefully or accidentally—referring to himself as your date. “I swear, I just eat too much takeout.”

Dabi grinned and sat back as his plate of noodles was set in front of him. You mimicked him as your own was sat down. 

“Besides, I don’t really date anymore.” You nodded as the waiter added some fresh Parmesan to your dish. “Kinda hard to in a small town like this. I tried it, it didn’t work out, so I stopped.” 

“Oh, so I’m a special case.” Dabi’s grin widened. 

“You…” You bit your lip and peered up at him. “You are a special case. I actually like spending time with you.”

Dabi’s eyebrows raised and you sat up a bit straighter. 

"Wait, that came off more pretentious than I intended." You sat your fork down. "That's not what I meant. No, the previous guys I went out with just weren't…compatible. There wasn't that spark or attraction and then when there was, it was minuscule and they tried way too hard to act on it and so they kinda shot themselves in the foot."

“How’d they manage that?” Dabi sat back and tipped his chin up. 

“What?” You blinked at him, fork half raised to your mouth. 

“You said they shot themselves in the foot.” He took another sip of his drink. “I’m curious how. I’d hate to repeat their mistakes.”

Your mouth closed around your fork, and you chewed slowly, buying yourself some time. That wasn't talk you typically did in a small restaurant where there were others around you. Granted, not all the tables around you were occupied, but it still felt weird discussing it in such a public place.

You swallowed the bite and wiped the corners of your mouth with your napkin. 

“They were…overzealous about…” You opened and closed your mouth. You weren’t against telling Dabi, but from past experiences, the thought of it made anxiety twist in your gut. “Behind closed doors stuff.”

Dabi looked utterly amused by your wording. “So they expected sex.”

“Yes. No.” You could cook on your cheeks they felt so hot. “I don’t mind that, it was that they turned into this white knight, overconfident version of themselves when they found out that I’m…”

You couldn’t exactly blurt it out as your waiter walked by or the hostess sat a family nearby. But you didn’t have to. The recognition on Dabi’s features set in and nerves settled in you. His smile never faded and neither did his amusement. There was a hint of surprise, but that was all he gave you as he took his next bite. 

“So you really are a goody-two-shoes.” He grinned when you choked on your drink. “Nothing wrong with having standards.”

“Hey.” You sat your fork down. “It’s not like I’m protecting it like some fragile flower. I just want it to be with someone where I’m not trying to pretend there’s an attraction.”

“Well, attraction will make it easier.” Dabi gave you a knowing smirk and you crossed your legs. “As I’m sure you’ve discovered with yourself.”

When you can’t muster up a response, Dabi sat up and that’s when the surprise really took over. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never—”

“Sometimes.” You had your eyes fixed on your plate and moved what little remained of your food around. “Just not…often.” 

The waiter came back and when they asked for dessert, you both declined. Your stomach was in knots so you weren’t sure you could handle more food. Dabi, you assumed, probably had his focus shifted on something else entirely. 

"I'm not…experienced…in that department," you said softly when your waiter left to get the check. You hated how it made you feel, and this was where every guy had overshot. Determined to teach you everything or tell you to sit back and relax, they'd rock your world for you. "Kind of hard to be when everyone here is nosy. Can't buy anything without someone else knowing, and can't go on any dates without guys getting way too cocky about…it.”

Dabi nodded, staying silent as the waiter came back. You tried to cover the check, but Dabi stopped you, throwing a fifty down. He didn't say anything until the waiter took it and left. 

“You’re insecure about it.” 

That hit you right in the chest and you bit back your response until Dabi got his change, a tip was left, and you rose from your seats. You walked a little stiffly from your table until Dabi’s hand found your back again. It stayed like that until you left, walking towards his car in the empty parking lot. 

"I'm embarrassed." You settled into his passenger seat, and he started the car. The cool air from the vents felt nice against your skin. "Not the being a virgin part, but what's come with that."

“The right partner won’t care about that.” 

“I know. Hence the need for a spark.”

Dabi put his car into reverse, and you watched his hand on the shifter. Again.

“Like there is between us?” He glanced over and you met his gaze with a panic. 

“What?”

"Earlier, you said 'the previous guys' never had the spark." His smirk was evil. “I read between the lines.”

It was dangerous territory to navigate. You weren't sure what Dabi was implying. Because if the feeling was one-sided, you weren't sure if you'd survive the embarrassment. You barely were about discussing your lack of a sex life. If Dabi felt nothing towards you after the dinner and was getting you to spill all your secrets like this, you'd crawl into a hole and never come out. 

You also didn’t want to imply you were only going out with him to finally get laid. 

"You…there's…" Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you studied his profile. "You're one of the few customers I don't hate seeing regularly." 

“Ouch, just a customer?” Dabi reached over and fixed one of your straps as you shifted in the seat. “And here I thought I’d at least been upgraded to a date.”

His fingers against your shoulder were almost too much. It was such an innocent touch but it went straight between your legs and you pressed your knees together. It was supposed to be subtle but the way Dabi's eyes shot down to your lap told you he was extremely aware of it. 

Unable to hold his gaze when he glanced back from the road to you, you looked out the window. You recognized the ride back to the bookstore, and a portion of you felt disappointed—he was ending the date. You’d had a few other ideas in mind, but it seemed dinner was enough. 

And then his hand fell to your thigh, just below your hem, hand burning hot against your skin. 

Your legs parted subconsciously and Dabi absolutely fucking grinned. 

His thumb ran light lines along your inner thigh, and his hand shifted up just barely and caused your dress to bunch a bit. You couldn't take your eyes off it. He was so close yet still frustratingly far from where you were getting wetter by the second. 

“You are,” you said when you realized you hadn’t responded. “Upgraded to a date.”

“One with a spark?” 

Your exhale was shaky.

“Yeah, one with a spark.”

Dabi parked a few spaces away from your car—it was near the back of the lot where employees typically parked. His hand moved to put his car in park, and you immediately missed the contact. 

"So, if I asked about seeing you again this weekend, you'd be interested?" 

“I work until three Saturday and close Sunday, but yeah. I’m interested.” 

“After work Saturday, then. I’ll pick you up.” 

“You going to take me out in my work clothes? I don’t know if jeans and a polo are date appropriate.” You chuckled softly. “It was a struggle finding an outfit for tonight. I had to buy a whole damn set just to wear under this dress.” 

Dabi’s breath hitched and his eyes dropped from your chest to your lap. 

“Did you?” 

“The dress is very see-through,” you muttered. He was practically undressing you with his eyes and you flexed your thighs. His hand wasn’t there to stop you and Dabi’s eyes narrowed. 

He took a deep breath. “Saturday. Meet me at the old theater in town at four. I won’t make you sit through a movie in your uniform.” 

It wasn’t a dismissal, but the topic change was obvious enough to tell you what Dabi was thinking about. It was no secret to yourself that part of the reason you agreed to buy the set was because you hadn’t dismissed the thought of Dabi seeing it. 

And you really wanted Dabi to see it.

“Wanna see it?” 

Your breathing was quick and Dabi’s hands tensed on his steering wheel. When he said nothing, you moved your hands to the bottom of your dress and started to lift it. The setting sun was coming through his windshield directly over you, and it was hard to ignore how that light basically acted as a spotlight right on your lap. Meaning whatever the lace pretended to cover in the shadows wouldn’t be. 

But Dabi grabbed your wrist just before you could flash him. 

“I do, but not here.” He peered up as a group of people walked by, bags of books hanging from their hands. “I want to be the only one to see it.” 

“Oh.” You hadn’t even noticed the people and you looked away. The thought of them almost seeing made the embarrassment double and you let go of your skirt. 

“Wear it Saturday.” His other hand came up and cupped your jaw. “This dress, too. Can you do that for me?”

“You want me to wear this again?” Your eyes dropped to his mouth and Dabi smirked. 

There was a pause before he leaned forward and closed the gap, his mouth pressing against yours. His smirk remained when you gasped against his lips, and his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You'd made out with someone before, but it'd always been so desperate on their behalf. This wasn't that. This was slow and deliberate. Like he knew each second his mouth was on yours, how his tongue touched you, how his hand slid down over your jaw and to your neck, made you want to squirm.

No, you were squirming. Moaning a bit, too. 

You crossed your legs to try and satiate the growing pressure and it took all of a second for Dabi’s hand to fall to your knee. 

“Open them,” he practically commanded against your mouth. When you didn’t immediately comply, he repeated himself. “Open your legs, (Y/N).” 

You did, and Dabi swerved at the same time, mouth trailing down your neck. His teeth grazed your jugular as his hand slid up your thigh. But he didn’t touch you—he stopped short. You had to bite back the whine you almost let out, on the verge of begging for him to touch you. 

“How inexperienced are you?” He pulled the strap of your dress to the side and kissed along where it’d been. 

“I…” You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say. It also wasn’t easy to say when he had you wound so tight that you thought you were going to burst if he didn’t touch you. “I’ve done some stuff.”

"I need specifics." He lifted his head and kissed beneath your ear. "Like if I were to sneak my fingers into that pretty cunt of yours right now, would I be the first?" 

You shivered—visibly shivered—and Dabi laughed against your neck. 

“Dirty talk and praise kink.” His hand shifted on your leg ever so slightly. “Dirty girl.” 

“Hey, I—”

“Answer my question, (Y/N).” He dug his teeth against your shoulder and kissed the indentations he left. “How inexperienced?”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, enjoying how his hair tickled your neck. 

“You’d be the first.” You swallowed hard. “I’ve only done over the clothes stuff.”

Dabi cursed against your neck and his hand lifted from your leg and slammed against the dashboard. 

“And do you want to do that with me?” He pulled back, his eyes meeting yours. His pupils were blown and he licked his lips as he waited. 

“Yes.” You glanced down at your lap for a second, then back up. “I want to do more than that with you.” 

"I can work with that." He leaned in and gave you another kiss before he forced himself back and slid out of the driver's seat. He got your door and helped you out, pressing you against it as soon as he had it shut. His mouth stole another long, heated kiss. "Wear this again Saturday."

“I will.”

“Good girl,” he whispered against your lips. “Four o’clock, old theater. Don’t be late.” 

“I won’t.” You staggered away from his car, your knees weak. 

“Oh.” He grabbed your wrist and hauled you back, an arm wrapping around your waist as he held you against him. “And don’t go touching yourself before then. I want to be the one to make you cum.” 

"Okay," you breathed, eyes a bit wide, and Dabi grinned. 

“Atta girl.”

He watched you get into your car, not leaving until you did. It took you a second to drive because you were wound so tight. Replaying the scene only made it worse. But you replayed it all the way home—it was hard not to.

He'd been so close to touching you and the way he fucking devoured you with that kiss was cruel. You would've let him fuck you in the back of his car if he wanted. That was dangerous—you were getting drunk on his actions and he hadn't even done anything besides kiss you and talk a little dirty. 

You took a long, freezing shower when you got home. Stayed in there until you were shivering and covered in goosebumps. But it barely helped. You were still hard thinking about him when you got into bed. You dreamed of him too. Of his hand sneaking up where you wanted it. Teasing your clit through your underwear, whispering about how badly you wanted his fingers in you. 

You woke up soaked. So soaked that you had to take another shower. And for the first time in a while, you actually wanted to take some time and alleviate the pressure between your legs. But the desire to hear Dabi call you his good girl again was bigger. Even if that only made it harder to keep your hands away from your cunt. 

You went to work horny and wired. It was fucking awful.

Especially when Dabi came in halfway through to get a coffee and found you in the romance section again. 

“Hi,” he purred behind you. 

“Hi,” you muttered back. He looked really good in his v-neck, exposing a sliver of his chest. 

“We still on for tomorrow?” 

“Mhm.” You were trying to hide your anticipation for whatever he had planned. A movie, that part was obvious. But he wanted you to wear the dress and underwear set again. That meant there had to be more, right?

“And have you been a good girl?” 

Your eyes locked and you held your breath as a customer walked behind you, looking at the books on the shelves just a few cases down. He cocked a brow, still expecting an answer. 

“Yes, sir,” you answered in your most polite customer service voice. 

"Good." He stepped behind you, hand coming to gently squeeze your waist. In a lower voice, barely audible to you, he added, "keep that up, and I'll reward you for it tomorrow." 

He winked before leaving, a silent see you tomorrow. You barely heard the customer beside you when they asked for assistance. 

You were distracted for the rest of the shift, during your attempt at chores after work, even through your cold shower, and the entirety of the next day. You tried to help the customers as much as possible—that always made the shifts go by faster—but you kept going back to thinking about Dabi. It was increasingly hard not to. 

Especially as three o'clock got closer and closer until you could finally clock out. You rushed home, desperate to get ready and not look like you'd spent the day at work. You rinsed off under cold water to give yourself a fighting chance before slipping back into your now clean clothes from your first date.

Dabi was once again waiting outside when you rolled up to the old theater. It was showing three different movies. An action, a horror, and a romance. About as cliche as the theater could get, and Dabi held up two tickets as you approached. They were for the horror movie that started in about thirty minutes. 

"Hey there, pretty lady," he said, his hand skillfully sneaking into yourself as you walked into the theater. 

"Hi." You liked the feeling of his rings as he held your hand, and Dabi laughed when he caught you staring. 

"Oh, come on, I know you're not that inexperienced. You've had someone hold your hand before." He smirked before handing the tickets off to the same employee that'd been working there the past twenty years, and she didn't even need to glance up to tell you where your theater was. 

"I have. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." 

"C'mon. Let's get snacks." 

Popcorn, a shared drink, and a handful of napkins. You held the drink and led Dabi towards your theater. But as soon as you entered, he side-stepped and pulled you into a corner. There were maybe two or three other people in the theater, and they were near the center. It wasn't like the theater was big, but you were practically sectioned off in the corner, away from the few whispering people. 

“Bear with me.” You laughed nervously. “I don’t do the best with horror. I don’t get like super scared or anything, but the jump scares always get me.”

Dabi grinned, his thumb running over the back of your hand. "Don't worry. You probably won't be that focused on the movie anyway."

“What does that mean?” 

“Exactly what I said.” He brought your hand up to his mouth and gave it a gentle kiss. “You do as I asked?” 

You blinked at him for a moment before it hit you, and you glanced away. "Yeah."

“You didn’t touch yourself at all?”

"Dabi." You motioned towards the people sitting near the center, and Dabi just continued to grin.

"They can't hear." He leaned a little closer as the lights started to dim, and a few commercials flickered onto the projector screen. 

“No. I didn’t,” you said once the sound started to play from the speakers. “I had to take a few cold showers to help, too.”

“Poor girl,” he murmured as his hand slid from yours and went to your knee. “I’ll make up for that, don’t worry.”

“You will?” You studied his unreadable expression and he reached over, turning you to face the screen as another commercial started. “How so?”

“I’m not fucking you tonight.” He kissed your jaw, then your neck. “We’re taking this slow.”

“So, there’s a this?” You were trying not to gasp as Dabi dragged his teeth over your ear. 

“Wouldn’t have invited you out again if there wasn’t.” Dabi’s hand slid up your leg. 

“So then…how?” Your breath hitched as the skirt of your dress bunched around Dabi’s wrist. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

“We’re going to do some over the clothes stuff.” His hand shifted and he cupped your cunt, making sure to grab as much of your dress as possible to act as an infuriating barrier between his hand and you. “After the movie.” 

He gave you one squeeze before moving his hand, sitting back as the previews started and his other hand rested lazily on your knee. He was grinning as you verbally fought to catch your breath. When you tried to close your legs to get some pressure relief, Dabi's grip tightened and he kept your legs open. 

And that was the position you stayed in during the movie. He was right. You didn’t pay attention to the previews and you didn’t pay attention to the movie. It was too difficult to when Dabi’s hand occasionally slid up your leg, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin. Or when he started playing with the hem of your dress. 

He’d get close to your cunt, making sure your dress touched it but not his fingers. And that was all he gave you. Little grazes of your dress that drove you wild. Nobody else had ever done this to you—nobody had ever made you react this way to them. And he knew it too, he was extremely aware of every little reaction you gave him. 

He had you wound so tight by the end of the movie, you couldn’t move. But he wasn’t waiting for you to tell him, he was standing and giving you a look that said I know you’re wet, but I’m going to pretend like I sat there the whole time not almost touching you. 

You were walking towards the back of the building, enjoying the fresh air, when you remembered you were at the theater. 

“Wait, Dabi, you said after the movie. But where are we—”

Dabi pressed you against the wall of the theater, the old brick making the fabric of your dress snag. His mouth pressed against yours as he snuck a leg between yours, pushing just enough of his weight against your cunt. 

“Right here.” 

“But…” He kissed you again, a little harder before he was leaving kisses on your neck again. “People might see.”

"You weren't worried about that in my car when you were going to flash me." His hands fell to your hips, and he guided you along his thigh. "Getting so shy now?"

The sudden friction against your cunt had you throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. Dabi chuckled, watching you move your hips on your own, chasing what friction the act gave you. You attempted to remain quiet and even semi-polite, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you even if you'd found yourself at the back of the building, away from the typical crowds. But Dabi wasn't having it.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “So needy for contact. Has anyone ever touched your cunt before?” 

You whined in response, but that wasn't enough of an answer for Dabi.

“Teased that clit until you begged them to finally actually touch you?" He moved his leg, lifting one of yours with his hand under your knee and pressing you back against the wall. Only a small fraction of your dress covered your cunt and you closed your eyes as Dabi pulled back and glanced down. He used one finger to lift your dress and he sucked in a slow breath at the sight. "You weren't kidding. It's real sheer.” 

You kept your eyes shut, trying to balance on one leg as Dabi kept you spread. You were trying to hear for any potential people coming, but your focus was pulled in too many directions. 

“Hold it up.” He guided your hand down and put your dress into your fist. “Keep it like that unless I say otherwise, understood?”

The warmth and desire that spread over you were hard to control. Dabi had you with your dress up in public—nobody else would ever be able to manage that. 

“Mhm.” You were shaking from more than anticipation. 

"That's my girl," he murmured, and he dragged his thumb over your cunt. "So fuckin' wet and so easily.”

His thumb ran a single line over your cunt until he decided to really have some fun. He found your clit, pressing his thumb against it and running slow, deliberate circles. It fucking shot fireworks off in you and he was barely touching you.

“Show me the bra.” 

"What?" Your eyes opened, just barely. It was a struggle when Dabi's thumb kept working your clit.

“Pull the top of your dress down and show me the bra.” 

“But we’re—”

"(Y/N)," he whispered, pushing your leg a little higher and working his thumb a little faster. "I got you spread eagle, gushing into my hand. Someone walks by, they're gonna see me teasing this pretty cunt of yours. Don't think it'll matter if the top of your dress is up or down."

You bit your lip, hesitating as you brought your free hand up to pull the top down. The second you did, Dabi smirked and leaned forward, kissing the newly exposed parts of your chest. It was only a few inches between what the dress covered and what the bra didn’t, but Dabi gobbled it up. 

“Get another question for you.” Dabi bit down on one of the cups and pulled back slightly. If he looked down, he’d see in, but he kept his eyes firmly on yours. 

“W-What’s that?” 

“Over the clothes stuff means nobody’s ever tasted that sweet cunt, have they?” 

“I…” Your head fell back against the wall. “No, they haven’t.”

"What a shame." He switched his thumb for his fingers, getting a more precise touch and you used your free arm to hug him closer. "Never had anyone hold your hips down and lick that clit until you cry." 

You were getting close and you could hear a group of people closer than the last few that'd walked by the building. Which meant they were close to you, which meant they could walk by you. They could see you—they would see you. But you were getting so close. 

“Dabi.” It was a warning for both. “I’m…and people are…”

"I'm not stopping until you cum." He dragged his tongue over your collarbone. "So you better cum quick or they're gonna see how needy you are for me. Couldn't even wait until we got to your bedroom to get off." 

He changed the angle of your leg slightly and that was it—that put his fingers exactly where you needed them. The sounds of the people were getting closer. You figured you had about thirty seconds, but you only needed about ten. Struggling under Dabi's hold, you buried your face in his neck as your orgasm hit you hard enough to whine—making you forcibly silence yourself as much as you could. 

You trembled against him as you tried to hold onto him, his fingers not stopping as your hips twitched up from the wall. 

You'd never cum that hard before. You'd never cum from someone else before. 

"Good girl, that's it, cumming so hard for me," he murmured in your ear. 

“Dabi.” It was a plea this time and he moved his fingers, pulling your top up after setting your leg down. 

He jerked you against him, face against his shoulder, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He was letting out the first puff as the group of people walked past, hand gently running along your arm as you silently panicked in his hold. 

When they passed, Dabi pulled you back, cigarette between his fingers as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. 

“See?” Dabi’s hand slid into yours. “Didn’t get caught.” 

"Came close," you muttered, panting and swaying on shaking legs, and Dabi just smirked. 

“Yeah, and you came pretty hard cause of it.” He stopped as you got to the front of the theater. “Next time, it’ll be around my fingers.” 

You already wanted that now. Even with wobbly legs, you wanted to drag him to his car and let him do whatever he wanted to you. 

“Next time?” You were trying to play coy, but you sounded exactly how you felt: horny. 

"Yeah." Dabi nodded. "Next time, I'm going to fucking ruin you."

You tripped over your own feet as you walked towards the parking lot. Dabi caught you and chuckled. 

“Why not right now?” You spotted his car and pulled him towards it. “Ruin me, right now.”

“What,” he purred as he pushed you back against his back door. “Want me to fuck you right here in my car?”

“Maybe I do.” 

“(Y/N).” He slid his hand between your legs and pressed your clit. “When I fuck you, I want to see every inch and hear every sound. And I want to be the only one who does.”

His fingers slid down and he found your entrance, pressing as far as your underwear would let him. 

“And as much as I want to throw you in the back of my car and see how tight that cunt is around my fingers, I’m sticking to my word.” He kissed your cheek. “Next time, I promise.” 

“Does that mean next time we’re going to…”

“Fuck?” 

“Yeah.” You stared up at him with accidental doe eyes. 

"No." He lifted his hand and dragged his thumb over your bottom lip. "But I am going to lick that cunt until you're begging me to fuck you." 

"Okay." You glanced around as Dabi puffed his cigarette, blow the smoke away from you." Okay, next time. After work, tomorrow. Are you free?"

“Needy, aren’t we? And even after I made you cum.” He pinched your chin and kissed you. “Busy the next few days. How about Wednesday night? Nine o’ clock, your place. I’ll grab take out from the little Italian joint.” 

"Wednesday?" You could hear the neediness in your voice, and Dabi laughed.

“What? Don’t think you’ll survive until then?” He reached into his car and grabbed a piece of paper, handing it to you to write down your address. “Poor girl.” 

“Dabi." You struggled to write legibly, and pouted when you handed him the paper. He cupped your cheek almost tenderly.

“It’ll be worth the wait. I promise.” He kissed you again. “If you get needy, just pretend your hand is mine. But if you do, I wanna hear about it.”

“You do?” You breathed, leaning back for support against his car. 

“Mhm.” He picked you up as soon as you got comfortable, his hand going for yours as he walked you towards your car. “Every little dirty detail.” 

“Wednesday. Nine o’clock.” You bit your lip as Dabi got your car door, helping you in. “Don’t be late.”

“For you?” Dabi pinched your chin. “Never.” 

The days passed way too slowly. Saturday night dragged on, Sunday, too. Dabi stopped by for a coffee and pastry on Monday, staying no longer than the time it took to whisper hanging in there? When you got all flustered, Dabi smirked and stole a quick kiss, lingering to push you back against the shelves before parting. 

“See you Wednesday, (Y/N),” he cooed. 

Then he was gone. And you had to wait another two days before you saw him again. That was even worse—so much worse. Your cold showers stopped working Monday night, but you weren't sure you'd survive telling Dabi about…taking care of yourself. So you didn't give in to the desire. No matter how much you needed it. 

Although you regretted it Wednesday afternoon when you went into work wired. Your whole body tingled with anticipation for the evening. Dabi wanted to ruin you. You already knew what the evening was going to entail: his mouth between your legs. But what was going to lead up to that and what was going to happen after and what was it going to feel like? 

About half a dozen customers asking for assistance managed to accidentally scare you since you were so lost in thought. The manager on duty even pulled you aside and asked if everything was alright. After apologizing and saying you just had a lot on your mind, they nodded and let you get back to work. 

For once, you were grateful you worked so close to closing. No duties of the closing cashier but it got you close enough to nine that you weren’t losing your mind with time when you got home. You had just enough time to rinse off in the shower, change into a low-cut blouse and jeans, and clean up around the place before Dabi got there.

He was there exactly at nine. You nearly tripped over yourself trying to answer the door when he knocked. Frantically fixing your shirt, trying to tuck it back in, you opened the door. Dabi smiled, a paper bag in one hand, his other in his pocket. 

“Hi, come in.” You jumped aside and held out your arm, showing off your little apartment to Dabi. “I hope parking was easy—it can be a bitch sometimes.”

“It was fine.” His hand went to your waist and he pulled you in for a kiss. He smelled a bit like smoke and the flashback to your time behind the theater was quick and clear. “How was work?”

“Fine. Long. Very long.” You brought him into the kitchen where you had a small table for dining. “You had classes today, right? How were those?”

“Boring. Would’ve preferred to have been elsewhere.” He sat the bag down and started unloading the food. “And long? Any particular reason for that?”

"I wonder." You gave him a knowing but somewhat shy glance, and Dabi chuckled. "What do I owe you for the food?"

Dabi snuck up behind you and spun you, pushing you back against your kitchen wall. His mouth pressed against yours and he was real quick to reach down and hook his fingers through your belt loops. He jerked you against him, and you could feel something strikingly hard in his pants. 

“Owe me nothing.” 

You clawed at his shirt, suddenly entirely uninterested in the food on the table. 

“Let me show you my bedroom.” You tried to tug him in that direction, but he didn’t budge. 

“After.” His hand snuck around and he squeezed your ass. “Gotta save dessert for after dinner, baby. Come on.”

You ate dinner with a bouncing leg and a wicked grin from Dabi as you talked about work and school. You weren’t so blinded by need that you didn’t pay attention, but Dabi was having a field day watching you squirm. He even purposefully slowed down when he got to the last few bites. 

“You get a little taste and you get all needy, don’t you?” He finally said as he rose, putting his takeout dish in the trash. “Poor girl—last few days must’ve been torture.”

“They were.”

“Did you do anything about it?” He leaned over you, one had on the back of your chair as he shoved it back, coming down to be face to face. 

“No. I didn’t.”

Dabi’s eyes widened. “You didn’t?”

“No.” You pressed your mouth into a fine line. “Not once.”

“Oh, you poor girl, you really are needy.” He kissed your cheek. “Let me see that bedroom.”

You jumped to your feet and dragged him in there. It was spotless—it was the one room you'd dedicated yourself to cleaning. And Dabi looked around with those same curious eyes he'd had when you first saw him. Taking in every small detail as he looked over the space. 

When he finally had his focus back on you, your legs were against your bed, and Dabi shoved you onto your back. By the time you registered you were on your bed, Dabi was on top of you, kissing you so deeply you thought you were going to get drunk off of it. 

You didn’t get to touch Dabi last time—this time he was letting you. Your hands skimmed over his arms, his chest, down to the waistband of his pants. He stopped you there, taking your wrists in his hands and pinning them against the bed. 

“Tell me,” he muttered as he kicked your legs open and slotted a knee between them. “Am I still allowed to—”

“Ruin me?” 

“I was going to use different words, but yeah.” His teeth captured your bottom lip and you whimpered. “Am I still allowed to ruin you?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “Yes. Please.”

Dabi sat back, moving your wrists to one of his hands and skimming the other down your chest, stomach, all the way to your jeans. He toyed with the button, making you squirm as he finally undid it. He moved the zipper even slower, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw your sheer pink underwear. 

You’d gone back and gotten some more sets to wear. 

"You want me here?" His fingers toyed with the bow on the front and you nodded. Dabi scoffed and grinned, moving back up and untucking the rest of your shirt. "We'll get there. I want to see those tits, first."

He slowly unbuttoned your shirt, watching you as your wrists twitched in his hold. He made sure his fingers skimmed over your stomach as he moved up, only stopping once your shirt was entirely open and displaying the equally sheer pink bra. It left nothing to the imagination, and Dabi's grin grew sinister. 

“You wore this for me?” His hand slid over your breast, thumb swiping across your hard nipple. You gasped at the contact, and Dabi repeated it. “That’s not an answer, (Y/N).”

“Yes, I did. I bought it for you.” You closed your eyes—it was the first time anyone had seen you in something so sheer.  

“You did?” He pinched your nipple before swiping his thumb back over it. “So sweet to me, aren’t you?”

"Mhm." It was more of a whimper, and Dabi kissed your jaw. 

“Shame that it looks so good on you—gonna need it off to really have some fun.”

He gave you no time to respond before he yanked the cup down, freeing your breast. There was a momentary pause before his thumb swiped your nipple, and then you felt his breath against it. You pressed your head back as his mouth closed around it, tongue swirling it gently, and the feeling went directly between your legs. Where his mouth was going to do the same thing later. At least that's what you assumed. 

He pushed down on your wrists as you squirmed, and without warning, he moved to the other side of your chest, freeing the other side and taking it into his mouth. He slid a knee back between your legs, giving you just a tease of friction as he devoured your chest. He left love bites all over your chest, grinning each time he made you whimper and whine as he teased your nipples. 

“You gonna leave your wrists there if I let you go?” 

“Do you want me to?” You only slightly opened your eyes, and as soon as you did, you caught sight of your chest. Covered in love bites, hard nipples, rising and falling as you huffed. 

“Mhm. I do.” He ran his fingers along your waist and cocked his head to the side. “If you don’t think you can, gimme a scarf. I’ll keep them in place.”

“A scarf?” Your brows furrowed and Dabi dropped his head, kissing your stomach. “For…?” 

Dabi jerked his head up, brows pinched as he studied your expression. There was a realization dawning on him and his expression was a mixture of seriousness and mischief. 

“Where are your scarves, (Y/N)?" It was a demand—a burning behind his eyes made your heart skip a beat. 

“Closet. Hanging.” 

Dabi moved so fast, and you tried to compose yourself as he retrieved a scarf. When he got back, he sat beside you, wrapping your wrists practically expertly before yanking them farther back and tying them to your metal headboard. 

“That’s what it’s for,” he said as he gave it a hard tug and it didn’t budge. Softly, he leaned down and spoke in your ear. “You don’t like it, you tell me, got it?”

“Mhm.” You tugged on it a few times and Dabi watched with an amused expression. 

“Got a question for you.” He slid down the bed and slowly started to pull your pants down your legs, leaving your underwear on. “How many times have you made yourself cum in one sitting?” 

“I…twice. Just twice.” 

“Care if I break that record?” He moved to his knees and sat between your legs. 

You tried your best to maintain composure, but it was getting really hard.

“You that confident?” 

“(Y/N), I’m pretty sure I could blow on your clit and you’d cum.” He cupped your cunt and you realized just how wet you were. “I could give you half my effort and still have you cumming on my fingers.” 

“Then prove it.” 

Dabi snickered and tugged on the bow. “Oh, baby, you don’t know the challenge you’re starting.”

Dabi wasn't joking about ruining you. You were still in your underwear when he had you grinding your hips against his hand. He was just giving you his thumb against your clit, but he was taking his sweet damn time touching you. Last time had been about getting you off before someone caught you. Now it was dragging it out at an agonizingly slow speed. 

“Oh, so needy. Poor cunt having nothing to fill it.” He cocked his head to the side. “You want my fingers, (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “Please, yes.”

You never thought you’d ever actually beg anyone to finger you—you never thought you’d find the person who’d make you.

“Beg for it.” He pushed down on your stomach, keeping your hips still. “So desperate to finally have someone fill that cunt. Beg for it.” 

“Dabi, please. Please, I need you to. Fuck.”

“Need me to what? Say the words.” 

“Fill me. Use your fingers. Please. I need you to.”

“Poor guys who never got this far. Never got hear how sweet you sound when you beg.” He shifted, pulling your underwear down your legs. “Never got to see those tits, and never got to see how sweet you look when you cum. And this? Open your eyes.”

When you looked down, you were naked. Dabi was pushing your legs open, and he waited until your eyes fell from him to your cunt before he moved his fingers. He cooed as he spread your folds, grinning as he very lazily leaned down and blew against your clit. 

“So wet and needy. Keep watching.” He did a quick glance up before exposing your clit and pinching it, grinning as you squirmed and gasped. “So swollen. Sensitive.” 

He swiped his fingers across it a few times, watching you twitch under the direct contact. And you could feel yourself practically gushing between your legs, and Dabi was clearly enjoying the realization that was donning on your features. You were naked, tied to your headboard, legs spread for him. For him. Drenched from him. Aching for him. 

And then he pushed a finger in, and your eyes fluttered closed. 

“Fucking tight, damn, (Y/N).” 

You weren’t one to use your fingers like that whenever you wanted to alleviate your needs. It was always outside action. Whenever you tried inside action, you never got the same reaction. You couldn’t find the spot that made you see stars the same way your clit did. 

But Dabi found it. And he fucking teased the hell out of it as soon as he did. 

"Oh, right there?" He rubbed the little spongy spot, and you yanked on the restraints. "Got one finger in you, and you're already squeezing me like you're ready to cum. I still gotta fill you up, (Y/N). I ain't even getting started." 

He worked you open like that for a while, going slow enough to make the pleasure almost painful. Watching with mischievous amusement as he finally got to the point where he could put in a second finger. And then he worked you harder, faster, almost mocking how you tightened around him so quickly. 

His other hand went to your lower stomach, thumb swiping over your clit just as fast as his fingers worked your cunt. You weren't ready to cum yet—despite everything, despite how worked up you were, despite how badly you wanted to cum—you weren't ready yet. You were enjoying the feeling of Dabi's fingers stretching you, how they filled you. Once you came, he'd take them out, and you weren't ready for that. You wanted it to last a little longer. 

But Dabi wasn’t having any of that. 

“Wait, Dabi…”

"Hm? You like my fingers that much?" He spat down onto your clit, letting his thumb glide even easier over it than before. "You waited this long for someone to strip you naked and fuck you, and you want to wait?” 

He worked his fingers a little deeper and faster, and you weren't trained enough to be able to hold on. 

“No, I want to feel you cum around my fingers. Fucking gush. Squeeze my fingers like you want to squeeze my cock, baby. Yeah, just like that, so fucking needy.” 

You came, the attempt at holding it back slipping right through your fingers. Your heels dug into the mattress as you raised somewhat off the bed, and Dabi laughed, continuing to pump his fingers. Your eyes closed harder and your moan choked itself out of you, the first wave of pleasure slamming into you unapologetically. And Dabi's fingers dragged it out, fucking you until you came back down, feet kicking beside him as he continued to hit that sensitive spot inside you. 

“Look at that.” He pulled his fingers out and held them up, showing you how wet they were. “Good girl, doing just as I asked. Cumming nice and hard for me.” 

He brought his fingers down as he lowered himself to his stomach. He glanced up at you from between your legs and blew on your clit. 

“You got thirty more seconds, then this?” He blew again. “Is mine.” 

It was closer to twenty-five seconds when he spread your folds and closed his mouth around your clit. So swollen and sensitive, your hips immediately lifted off the bed and he had to hold them down. 

He went slow, giving you every bit of sensation of his tongue sliding over your clit, between your folds, even swiping over your entrance. He sucked and kissed and licked, holding your legs open and hips down. 

And when your thighs started to shake, he sucked your clit into his mouth and hummed. 

When he started licking it quickly, you could feel tears joining your impending second orgasm. He was getting you there so fast, so relentlessly, you almost couldn’t keep up. 

There was no warning when you came the second time—not from him, nor from you—you just yanked on the restraints and cried out a half whimper, half moan. Dabi, once again, didn’t stop until you were squirming, unable to withstand the contact. 

“All those people you work with,” he murmured as he ran his fingers over your clit. “They see you as this perfect little worker. Don’t break the rules. So innocent and sweet. They got no idea you got a guy like me tasting exactly how sweet you are.”

Your response was a whine, and Dabi laughed. 

“You think they’d even believe it if they knew you were begging me to fuck you in my car? Or that you let me tie your pretty wrists up as I play with your cunt?” He slipped his fingers back into you, finding your sweet spot instantly, chasing your next orgasm without restraint. “That you flashed me that sweet cunt behind the theater and came even when someone could’ve seen?”

Dabi licked your clit a few times before returning his fingers there. 

“Inexperienced, sure. But innocent?” Dabi scoffed as you squeezed his fingers again. “I think you’re far from it.”

You groaned as you came again, a sheen of sweat covering you as Dabi kept finger fucking you. 

He was serious—he was going to fucking ruin you. 

He made you cum two more times before he crawled up and untied your wrists, telling you to open your mouth and pressing his drenched fingers into it. You hummed around them, tasting yourself first there, then on his lips when he kissed you. 

"Atta girl," he murmured first as you cleaned his fingers, again after he kissed you.

"You…" You nodded down at his lap, and Dabi smirked. 

“I think I’ve ruined you enough for one night.” He undid the scarf from your wrists. “I ain’t fucking you tonight, (Y/N).” 

"No, not that." You licked your lips, and Dabi froze. "Show me how. On you."

“You want to blow me?”

“Mhm.” 

Dabi studied you for a second—a long second. Then he lifted his chin and nodded at the floor. 

“Then get on your knees.” 

You did as you were told, sliding off the bed onto shaky legs. Dabi motioned to his belt, and you took the not-so-subtle hint, undoing it. It jingled as you opened it, then went for his button and fly. Your hands trembled as you exposed the bulge in his navy boxers, and he sat back on his hands. 

“Go on.” 

You bit your lip and tentatively pulled his cock out. He was thick, hard, and—your mouth parted. It was pierced. 

First cock you held, touched, seen in person, and it was pierced. 

“Open your mouth, put it around the tip.” Dabi’s voice was cool and calm. Only a hint of the sternness he had with his commands before. You did as you were told, and he was hot in your mouth. “Now bob your head, take what you can, adding just a little bit of suction.”

You bobbed your head slowly, going as far down as you could, and Dabi lasted only a short while before he hissed. 

“Just like that, that’s my girl. Fucking hell. Taking my cock so well. That’s it.” His hand went to the back of your head, guiding you a little faster. “I take it back. I don’t think they’d believe such a sweet girl would take my cock like this. So fucking hungry for it. Sucking it so damn well.”

Despite how many times Dabi made you cum, the praise went directly between your legs. Dabi’s thumb wiped away a spare tear, but he made you keep your mouth on him, holding you steady as you swallowed before bobbing your head again. 

“You wanna keep being my good girl?” 

“Mhm.”

"Then when I tell you to move, you fucking move and gimme those tits to cum on, understand?" When you didn't respond right away, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged. "Understand?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed around his cock. 

“Atta girl.” He groaned, his thighs flexing in his jeans. “Fucking perfect.”

He lasted a little while longer, moaning as you continued to blow him. It was a bit of a struggle to fight your gag reflex, but Dabi wasn't letting you pull off. His hand kept that firm grip on your hair as he helped move your head. 

And then he was there, breathing heavy and uneven, thighs flexing under your hands. He yanked your head back for extra measure when he said the one word, move. And then his fist was around his cock, pumping it a few more times as you sat up, and he came. All over your chest. It dripped down over your stomach, and you studied how his face scrunched, the soft sounds he made as he came, and the faint blush that covered his cheeks. 

“Hell, (Y/N).” His eyes went from your face to your chest. “Look at you, fucking filthy.” 

His thumb wiped the corner of your mouth and looked at you, surprised, aroused, and proud. Like he wanted to throw you back on your bed and fuck you right then. But he didn't. He just looked at you, your chest, every naked inch, and seemed to memorize you. He swiped a thumb over a nipple before tucking his cock back into his boxers and stood. 

He didn't spend the night. You both cleaned up—mostly him wiping you down with a rag—and he helped you back into bed after you changed. He stayed beside you for a bit, letting your head rest on his chest as he ran his fingers along your arm.

“If I didn’t have a class at eight tomorrow—and I trusted myself to have the strength to not want to fuck you in the morning—I’d stay.” He kissed the side of your head. 

“What if I want you to stay and fuck me?” 

“Not yet.” He reached down and spanked your cunt, making you jump at the contact. You were already sore. “Need to let you recover first, baby.” 

“Friday.” You played with one of his necklaces—it had a little flame pendant. “What are you doing Friday?”

“Depends on why you ask.”

"There's a mini golf place thirty minutes north. They have a deal on Fridays, and I don't work. They also have really crappy pizza and burgers." 

Dabi smirked—seemingly amused that you'd asked him to play mini gulf. 

“I’ll pick you up at one.”

Dabi let you fall asleep before leaving. Well, sorta. You were awake enough to register his goodbye kiss, and then you were out, missing his warmth. You ended up dreaming that Dabi had spent the night. 

You woke up sore. Sorer than you expected. All you thought of was Dabi each time you winced at the slight pain. It wasn't anything unbearable—but it was noticeable. 

You stared down at yourself in the shower, chest covered in hickies of varying sizes. So much had happened last night. Dinner, naked, wrists bound, legs open. His fingers, mouth, both. Then he finally—finally—let you touch him. And you took him in your mouth. That was the first time you’d done that. That was a night of firsts. 

You spent the shift thinking about that. Thinking about the soreness, what caused it. You joked with your coworker, something about going to the gym for the first time in a while as a way to cover for your constant wincing. They bought it, but you weren't exactly paying enough attention to care. 

Dabi was right—you needed time to recover. 

A fair amount of time, too. You were still semi-sore when Friday rolled around. 

It was casual, more than you were expecting. Dabi wore the same dark clothing, and you opted for shorts and a tank top. The warm breeze felt nice as he drove with the windows down, and it was even better on the golf course. Dabi got a blue ball, and you got a red, and he looked comical holding the small putt. He laughed sarcastically, still sliding his hand into yours as you walked between holes, even when he threatened to withhold it for the teasing.

It was surprisingly sweet. He'd shown his sweet side before, but this was something different. It was all hand-holding and little fun whispers. And only the occasional innuendo at your soreness. 

You split a pizza when you finished the course, lingering back to let your stomachs settle before leaving. Dabi drove back with his hand on your thigh the whole time. 

"Thanks for going. I had fun." You ran your fingers over the back of his hand, studying his silver rings. "I hope you did."

“I did. Little out of my usual activities, but I had fun.” 

"Can I ask a question?" You traced the rings. "Well, two, actually." 

“Shoot.”

“What are your usual activities?" You bit your lip, trying to figure out how to phrase the next part. "I know we haven't labeled what we're doing—and this isn't me asking to label it—but if we are going to hang out like this, I want to do things you like, too."

"I don't know if my scene is the same as yours." Dabi cocked a brow and glanced down at his lap. "I wasn't exaggerating with what I said Wednesday night. People look at you, and they see little miss innocence. They'd eat you alive where I hang out."

“Try me.” 

“What’s your second question?” 

“Again, not me prying for any reason other than curiosity. But do you have a cellphone?” 

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to ask that. No, I don't." He grinned. "I prefer a more 'off the grid' kind of life."

"I kind of assumed." You pointed down at his wallet chain. "No rewards card, cash only. You seem exactly like the kinda guy who'd send a dirty text just to fuck with me, so when that didn't present itself as a possibility, I just assumed."

"You caught me red-handed." He held up his hands. "It's part of the reason I stop by and double-check plans with you at work. Plus, it's a good excuse to see you." 

"Fair enough. I'll take the compliment. But I'm not letting it go, by the way." You leaned towards him and poked his arm. "I want to do something from your scene. I’ll even dress the part, too.” 

“Oh, now you’ve got my attention. How exactly would you dress for it?” 

You tugged on his shirt. “Lots of black.”

Dabi chuckled and shook his head, staring up at your apartment building for a bit. The silence that fell between you was comfortable—Dabi was thinking. For a while. 

Finally, he spoke.

“You work Thursday night?”

"Off at eight, but I don't work Friday. Why?"

“Alright. I’m picking you up at eight-thirty. I’ll take you to one of the places I hang out at.” He leaned forward and gave you a teasing kiss. “You better wear that outfit—I want to see what you come up with for it.”

“I can do that.” You smirked. “I’ll see you Thursday night.”

You had a plan. You were going to absolutely nail the outfit on all fronts. The accessories, the makeup, the underwear. Going as hard as your budget could afford. And you fucking did—with the help of the sales clerk from the boutique. 

“I need your most punk outfit.” 

She looked at the pale pink sundress you were wearing and cocked a brow. “I’m insanely curious. Okay.”

While the boutique usually had a diverse selection, most of their pieces seemed to be of the pastel and bright colors variety. Although, near the back, they had some items that were more in the "Dabi would like this" demographic. It was still slim pickings, though—but you made it work. 

It wasn’t perfect—and you were sure Dabi would probably get a chuckle out of it—but it worked well enough. 

You just needed shoes, accessories, and makeup. But that was easily covered between the drugstore, another boutique about twenty minutes away, and a shoe store nearby. 

You had the entire outfit settled and ready by Wednesday when Dabi stopped by to double-check that you were still interested in hanging out the next night. 

“Oh yeah. I’m more than ready.” You scanned his book. “I got the outfit all ready.”

"Can't wait to see it." He handed you the cash, and you grinned. "I'm curious to see what you think my style is. Especially on yourself."

“It’s good, I promise. I think you’ll like it. Mostly.”

"Mostly?" He cocked a brow and gave you a smirk that went directly between your legs. "I really look forward to seeing it now." 

His hand lingered on yours as he took the change. 

It was that little touch that got you through that shift and the next. Luckily, all the shopping to make the outfit made the days pass reasonably fast. And after an annoyingly long shift with frustrating customers—and the on-duty manager being especially micromanaging—you were rushing back to your apartment to change. 

Remnants of the anger remained, but the excitement took over most of it. You nearly tripped over yourself trying to change before Dabi got there.

A very specific underwear set, a cropped red t-shirt, high-waisted fishnets that sat higher than your high-waisted black shorts. A thick black belt that cinched your waist and some chunky red and black sneakers on your feet were the best you could find. A bit of silver jewelry that reminded you of Dabi's, a little bit of dark eye makeup, and a black purse. It wasn't perfect. 

But Dabi’s reaction was. 

He was speechless. His eyes were wide as his mouth tipped into an insanely amused grin, and he whistled. 

“This is going to take some getting used to.” Dabi stepped back as you locked your door. “Looking good.”

“So you like it?” You beamed, grabbing Dabi’s hand and hugging his arm. “I did a good job?”

"It's a fun outfit, and you look good." He kissed your cheek. "But you may want to tone down the…cuteness...when we get there. Just a tad."

“What, don’t want me to embarrass you?” 

“No, I don’t want them to try and fuck with you.” 

You blinked at him as he opened your car door. 

“Dabi, where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere bad. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.” 

The car ride was handsy. Dabi couldn’t fucking keep his hands to himself. He really liked the fishnets. A lot. And the little patch of skin you were showing with your crop top? Drove him fucking wild. His hand started on your knee, and by the time you pulled up to your location, he’d dragged his fingers over the front of your shorts and was lazily playing with the button. 

But he stopped to put the car in park, and you glanced up at the run-down building. 

It wasn't like you didn't come to this side of town—saying one side was worse than the other was unfair. Both had their rundown and considerably dangerous sections. You just didn't go into those parts by yourself very often. You just went to and from work, the grocery store, restaurants for take-out, and occasionally saw a movie with your friends. 

This was a bar. People stood outside smoking, some motorcycles were in the corner of the gravel parking lot, and loud music snuck through open doors and windows. And Dabi, walking around to get your door, looked entirely in his element as he slid his hand into yours and guided you inside. 

"Stick by me; nobody's gonna bug you." 

“I’ve been to a bar before, Dabi,” you said back.

And you had. It just had less smoke, and the beers were double the price they were here. But you weren't that sheltered. Dabi switched to having his arm around your waist when you entered, holding you close as he approached a group by a cornered pool table. Half were drinking, all dressed in different assortments of clothing. They almost looked like they belonged in a sitcom. Or an after-school special. Maybe both. 

“Toga, Twice, Spinner, Shigs, Magne, and Compress.” Dabi pointed to each person in the group, but the way they were all mid-conversation, Compress and Magne were the only ones to say hello. “They all already know who you are.”

“They do?” You looked at him a little surprised. 

"You think we wouldn't notice Dabi driving thirty minutes out of his way for another book or a random cup of coffee?" Compress wiggled his eyebrows, and Dabi shot him a glare. 

“Come on,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me get you a drink.” 

“Oh, I don’t really drink.” That garnered you a few surprised looks. “Often. I don’t drink often. I’ll take a beer.”

“Don’t feel pressured.” Dabi pinched your chin and kissed you—it felt like a clear sense of she’s mine, back off to everyone who glanced over. “You’re here to have fun with me, not mimic me.”

"A water then," you muttered, and Dabi's grin didn't falter. 

“That’s what I thought. Atta girl.” 

He left you alone, even if you weren't even remotely close to being alone. But Magne held out a hand and waved you over, practically shoving Compress out of his seat. 

“Let her sit, Compress. Be a gentleman.” 

"Dabi would kill me if I didn't." Compress did jazz hands at his seat, and you reluctantly sat down. He leaned against the pool table, beer in his hand. "Speaking of, you gotta tell us—what's Dabi like when it's just the two of you? Is he secretly a softy? Is his favorite color actually one of the ones on the rainbow? Does he smoke around you?" 

You took half a breath. It smelled like stale beer, cigarette smoke, and like something had caught fire a few days ago and was never cleaned. It was certainly a change of pace from the fresh pastries and brewed coffee from work.

"He's a mystery. I don't have anything to compare it to, so I don't know what you consider soft for him. I had the same question about his favorite color. And yes—he has smoked around me." You sat back and blinked at him. "My own question: does he actually read the books he comes and gets, or are they just excuses to come to the bookstore?" 

“I read them.” Dabi handed you a bottle of water and curled his fingers, instructing you to stand. As soon as you did, Dabi slid into the chair and pulled you down onto his lap. “I was there originally to find books, you know. I just happened to find someone far more interesting instead.”

You’d never sat on Dabi’s lap before. Just like the kiss before, this was a show of who you were with there. Especially as Dabi’s hand came down and slid into your front pocket. A physical representation that not just you, but he was off limits too. A sentiment that became clear when you saw a few side eyes from some women in a corner. 

Some damn gorgeous women, too. 

But Dabi's move had basically issued a challenge. Luckily, none of which were any guys coming over to greet you. You already dealt with creeps at work. You really didn't want to do that here.

For Dabi, though, it was different. 

It took a matter of minutes before a few girls came over and leaned over the table. 

"Care to play a game of pool, Dabs?" She cooed the words so effortlessly, and you tried not to show your reaction on your face. "Usual bet? Winner takes the other home. Win-win."

You steeled your expression—this was Dabi's world. This was where he hung out, the type of people he'd normally be interested in. Hot, confident, dressed like they weren't wearing a costume for a night. 

“Not interested.” He sipped his beer, his hold tightening a bit in your pocket, pulling you back on his lap. 

"Even if all three of us play again?" She batted her eyelashes, leaning a bit more forward to show off her really nice cleavage, and you weren't even mad at her. She was good at what she was doing—and she managed to accomplish it in less than twenty minutes. "I know you liked that last time."

But you weren't weak-willed enough to let it show on your face—customer service has taught you better than that. 

"Mind if I take that bet?" You cocked your head to the side and did your best innocent gaze you could muster. "Although I'd prefer you fuck off and leave us alone instead of getting in bed with you. But I'm amenable to that." 

“I don’t believe I was talking to you—”

“And I don’t believe we invited you over.” 

“Dabs—”

"You heard the lady," Dabi said over your shoulder. His mouth grazed your neck, and his hand left your pocket, slinging itself over your shoulder so he could basically hang off you. "Fuck off.”

They lingered for a second before giving up and turning, sulking back to their corner with the rest of their group. You were tense on Dabi's lap, and he was aware of it, turning you to face him. The kiss was slow, and he tasted slightly like the bitter beer he'd been drinking. The insecurity, the anger, it was still there. But Dabi was a fantastic kisser. So you gave yourself the kiss, making him come to you to deepen it. 

But you broke it just as it started. 

“Hey,” he murmured, fingers swiping along your jaw. “Ignore them. I don’t even know their names.”

“I…” You took a slow breath. “I need to get some air.” 

Dabi followed you outside, away from the smokers. It didn’t make the air much cleaner, but it was fine enough. Dabi ran his hand over your back. 

“I don’t know them.” 

"I don't care if you do." You shook your head. "We didn't...we don't have a label. You can sleep with whoever you want. I don't care about that.” 

Dabi looked skeptical, but all he said was, “okay.”

“But you didn’t warn me about that. I would’ve liked to know beforehand I was going to walk into a space full of people you’d fucked.” 

"I didn't..." He leaned against the side of the building. "I slept with one girl there. First night here. Just needed to blow off some steam, she let me."

“I would’ve liked to know that I might run into them before we went in there.” You dropped your head back and closed your eyes. “Just so I could prepare myself.”

"You handled yourself more than well enough." Dabi narrowed his eyes, and you just shook your head. 

“It’s not about throwing a bitchy comment back. It’s about…” You ran your hands over your face. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go back inside.”

“Hey.” Dabi grabbed your wrist, brows pinched. “What’s it about?” 

You gave him a soft smile. It wasn't his insecurity to worry about. "Nothing. It's nothing you gotta worry yourself with. C'mon, your friends are in there."

You managed another hour before the insecurities set in deep. Dabi had you back on his lap, occasionally kissing your neck or running his hand over your waist. But your mind wasn't in the bar—not entirely. 

His friends were fun—a little crazy—but fun. But they only could do so much to keep yourself out of your head. And it was starting to become hard to throw your thoughts aside and participate in the conversation. 

Not until there was the harsh sound of glass shattering on the ground nearby. 

Under you, Dabi cursed. He was on his feet before the first punch was thrown. The two guys landed on a table first, then on the pool table in front of you. You yelped and jumped back, and Dabi was already putting himself between you and the fight. You jumped again when another glass was broken, and you tripped over someone engrossed by the fight. Dabi caught you but your hand also caught the table where a shard of glass sliced your palm. 

You cursed under your breath and the anger that flashed on Dabi's face was visceral. You thought he was going to punch the person who'd inadvertently tripped you, so you grabbed his hand and moved towards the door. As soon as you hit the outside, Dabi was on you, pulling out a white handkerchief and wrapping it around your hand. 

“I’m sorry.” He led you to his car. “I thought…I’m sorry.”

“Dabi, it’s fine. I’ve cut my hand before.” 

"Keep pressure on it till I get back, okay?"

You nodded, expecting him to start the drive back to your apartment. But he didn't. It was a five-minute drive before he pulled up to another apartment complex. He got your door, and he was leading you inside, up some stairs, and inside a three-bedroom apartment. 

You were dragged from their kitchen and living section into a very navy, gray, and black color-schemed room. Dabi sat you on his bed, and he disappeared only to return with a first aid kit. 

"So, this is where you live." 

“I live with Shigs and Compress.” He opened the kit and took your hand. “This might sting.” 

You winced as he cleaned the cut but did your best not to make a sound. The concern was prominent in his features, irritation too.

“Dabi.”

“What don’t I have to worry about?” His brows were pinched hard when he looked up. “What you said when we were outside. What don’t I have to worry about?”

“It’s not…it’s…it’s stupid, Dabi.” 

“Tell me.” He bandaged your hand. “Please.”

He peered up at you from where he was squatting on the floor, his eyes dark and sharp. There was a deep-seated softness in his features that made you speak—it was one you'd never seen on him before.

“You had to show me how to…” You motioned down at his lap. “Blow you. The other people you’ve been with, you didn’t have to teach them. I’m…it makes me feel inadequate. Like you should be with someone whose hand you don’t have to hold through every step.” 

Dabi was quiet as he closed the kit and set it aside. He rose and sat beside you on the bed, cupping your cheek as he leaned forward and kissed you. It was an uncharacteristically sweet kiss. Slow and tender. 

“Never call yourself inadequate.” He kissed you deeper. “Never.” 

"I am, compared to them. I'm not being self-deprecating there. It's just a fact."

"Every damn part of you is wonderful." He kissed you harder, and you gasped. "You want to talk about inadequate? You're looking at him, baby. You're not inadequate. Don’t call yourself that.” 

His hands skimmed up your waist and he pulled back, turning away and breathing heavily. 

"Dabi." You reached out for him, and he held up a hand. "Everything okay?"

You meant it beyond him moving away, but Dabi stuck with only answering it partially. 

“We need to move to the living room.” When he glanced back at you, he just nodded down at you. “It’s easy to have restraint in your room. It’s harder when you’re on my bed, dressed like that, and I really want to show you how wonderful you are.”

You bit your lip and, mind still a bit fuzzy from everything and body wired from adrenaline, leaned back on your good hand. Swinging your legs open just barely, you glanced up at Dabi. His breath was slow and shaky. 

“Show me, then.” 

“(Y/N).”

“Fuck me. Ruin me.” You swallowed your nerves. “Please, Dabi. Fuck me.”

There was only a beat where Dabi exhaled again, and then he was on you. An arm wrapped around your waist as he nudged your legs open. He kissed you drunk as his hips settled between your legs and his other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair. 

“You want me to fuck you that badly?” He rolled his hips against yours. “Beg for it. I know you will. Praise kink, dirty talk, loves to beg.” 

He grabbed your wrist and pinned your hurt hand to the bed, squeezing it once before bringing his hand to slide underneath your shirt. He pushed it up and groaned at the bra. It was a black push-up bra that really accentuated your chest. And Dabi fucking loved it. 

He pulled the cup down and his mouth was on your nipple instantly. He sucked as he freed and twisted the other. Licked as his thumb swiped. Nibbled at the sensitive skin as you squirmed underneath him. 

“I don’t fucking hear you.” He pulled your shirt over your head and threw it aside. Then his hands went to your belt. “Whatcha want, baby? Whatcha want me to do to you?”

“Fuck me, please.” Your eyes closed as Dabi finally unbuckled your belt. As soon as that was done, he was pulling your shorts off. 

And then he saw you were wearing crotch-less panties, and he cursed loudly. He looked fucking feral.

He ripped the crotch of your tights open and shoved your legs open. 

“Really?” His eyes were so wide. “You wore these for me?”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Just for you.”

Dabi looked back down and grinned wildly. His fingers parted your folds almost lazily, and despite how wet you were, he still spat on your clit. He kept you spread and bare, fingers going to your clit as he lolled his head to the side and watched you. 

“You want me to fuck this pretty pussy tonight?” He pinched your clit. “Look at your poor clit—so needy. Maybe I’ll just give that attention all night.” 

“No, please.” You grabbed at his comforter. “Dabi, please.”

"What?" He brought his other hand up and pressed a finger to your entrance. "I could tie you up just how you like and tease that clit until you can't cum anymore. Don't you wanna cum?" 

He got one finger, then a second in you in easy succession, and found the spot that made you dig your feet into the mattress. Dabi wasn't going slow—it was almost a relentless pace. 

“I do.” You couldn’t keep up with all he was throwing at you. “But I also want you to fuck me. I…I want you to fill me. Stretch me.” 

Dabi’s fingers hesitated briefly before he was back to chasing your orgasm. He had no intention of stopping, even mocking you a bit as you started to squeeze his fingers. 

"Wow, already? The fight turn you on that much at the end there?" He slapped your clit once, and you yelped. "Or does the dirty talk really do it for you?"

When you didn't answer, he tested a third finger, and you gasped at the stretch. His fingers slowed—stealing your orgasm away—but it alleviated the burning sensation. 

"I forgot, you're also a slut for praise, aren't you, baby?" He worked his fingers slowly. "I mean, look at you, taking three fingers already. That's it, good girl. Doing wonderfully.”

You instinctively opened your legs more, and Dabi laughed, pushing his fingers deeper, rocking them against the spot that made you whimper. 

"When you met me, you ever think I'd have you on my bed taking my fingers like this? Moaning so pretty, soaking fucking wet, wishing I'd give you my cock?" Your orgasm was closing in again, and Dabi was well aware of it. "Cause I didn't. The pretty little sweetheart at the bookstore? Never thought she'd give me the time of day. Boy, was that a pleasant surprise."

“Dabi.” 

“Ain’t nobody holding you back from cumming. Fucking cum, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fuck you as long and hard as you want.” 

You did, groaning loudly and pushing your head back against his thin pillows. It was like a bolt of lightning through you, and Dabi fucked you through it, keeping his fingers in you until the last wave hit you. 

“Look at you all fucked out.” He slowly pulled his fingers out. “You still want more?”

You took a very careful breath and pushed yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him straight. 

"I want your damn cock in me, Dabi. Now. So take your damn pants off and fuck me."

That feral expression was back, and Dabi looked excited to strip.

He had scars. They'd been covered by his shirt, so you'd never seen them. They were faint, but they littered his upper body. But you didn't ask questions—Dabi wouldn't give you any answers. Not right now, at least. There were a few on his legs too, but you weren't as up close and personal with those. 

“You’re not inadequate,” Dabi whispered against your lips. “You’re not. You’re more than I could ever deserve.” 

He ran his cock between your folds, grazing your clit with each little thrust. The condom was bright pink—it was the only one he had left from a joke pack Compress had gotten with fun flavors. 

“Breathe.” He kissed you gently as he lined his tip up with your entrance and pushed in. It burned and stretched, but he went in easily. “That’s it, good girl. Fuck.”

He paused somewhere around halfway in and gave you a second to adjust. The only thing you could do was hug him close, eyes clamped shut, trying to get yourself to relax. Then he continued, going until he was flush against you. 

“That’s my girl—fuck—taking every inch. Doing so fucking well.” He dropped his head into the crook of your neck as he shuddered. “So fucking tight.”

His thrusts were slow and shallow, carefully deepening them only when your body started to relax. 

“I have so many ways I wanna fuck you. So much I wanna show you.” He moved a little faster when your whimpers turned to moans. “But tonight, I’m just gonna fuck you sweetly. Wanna feel you cum around my cock.” 

When you didn’t answer with anything more than a whine, Dabi kissed your jaw. 

“Doin’ alright there, baby?”

"Mhm." You were feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain, both fairly equal. A few tears snuck out, and Dabi kissed them away. 

“Tell me when.”

"What?" You were slightly cut off as Dabi shifted, adjusting his hips and yours. That pleasure-pain mixture fluctuated from that to just pain to sudden pleasure, and you yelped. "There, right there."

"There it is." Dabi's thrusts were a little harder, making sure each one slammed against the spot that made you desperately latch onto him and sob in all the best ways. "Feelin' that good, huh?"

“Don’t stop.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

It was a gradual increase in speed and Dabi's hand dropped to your neck. Experimentally, as you chased the high he was throwing your way, you reached up and closed his fingers around your throat. Dabi almost stopped, his hips stuttering for a few thrusts, kissing you fucking hard as he tightened his grip on your throat. 

“So fuckin’ dirty.” He groaned. “Fucking who would’ve thought, huh? Little goody-two-shoes likes to get choked. I can’t wait to find out what else makes you go fucking wild."

“Dabi, I’m…keep going.”

“You gonna cum from my cock? Spread fucking wide in my bed in those crotchless panties?” He groaned presumably because your walls tightened around him—you were so damn close. “Wore those for me. Fucking magnificent.” 

Dabi closed his hand around your throat a little tighter again and slightly angled his hips, so as his cock hit deep, he grazed against your clit with each thrust. You lasted about fifteen more seconds, and then you were done. You buried your face in his shoulder as you came, biting down as that bolt of lightning from earlier was back, spreading over every inch of your body. 

The pleasure twisted, and you practically gushed over his cock, and Dabi fucking lost it. 

“My girl.” 

He fucked you through it, slamming into the spot that made you grateful nobody else was home—you couldn't keep yourself quiet. There wasn't much pause before he was following you over the edge, hitting deep as his hips stuttered, and he groaned. His arm hooked around your waist as he hugged you. 

He held you close like that as you both trembled, feeling Dabi soften inside you. 

“Fucking hell, (Y/N).” He kissed your jaw, cheek, and then nose. “You okay?” 

"M'fine." You blinked up at him, cheeks wet from tears and cold from the AC. 

“You did so well.” He wiped your cheeks. 

“I didn’t do much.”

"Mm. You did. But next time, I'll have you ride me. How about that?" 

“Ride you?”

Dabi laughed and pulled out. He kissed your forehead and sat on the edge of the bed, removing the condom and tying it off. You watched as he turned and tried his best to take the fishnets off smoothly. But it wasn’t exactly easy to be suave at removing tights. Especially when your legs were like jelly. 

He handed you a large shirt from his drawer and pulled on his boxers, very pointedly helping you under the covers and even tucking you in. With an arm thrown around you, he pressed his chest against your back. 

“I’m sorry again about the bar.” He kissed the back of your neck. 

“Don’t apologize.” Your eyelids were heavy. “Worth it. And I like Compress—he’s fun.” 

“Mm.” He held you firmly. “I’m very glad Toga suggested we go check out the bookstore. Got to meet you.”

You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy Dabi’s hold. He was protective at the bar, but this was all personal comfort here. And for a moment, there was the wonder if Dabi ever got this kind of comfort. Whether he did or didn’t, he was enjoying every damn second of you in his arms. And so were you. 

It felt perfect.