#ktrk5

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“How are you doing, sweetness?”

You grumbled something unintelligible into the sheets below as Dabi coaxed your face to the side, gently covered your eyes with a hand to shield from any potentially overwhelming. 

Dabi chuckled, something rumbled through both of your chests as his hand carded through the hair at the base of your neck, “I’ll take that as fucked out?”

You nodded, chasing his heat and nosing into his palm. Especially after intense scenes, Dabi ran so much hotter, almost burning. Despite the sweat clinging to your skin, your floating mind wanted nothing more than his touch and his presence.

“Settle,” He gave a soft command. “You can rest now.”

You nodded once again, feeling a bit too doughy to do much else. Dabi gave your hips a quick tap, urging them down and against the smokey smelling sheets. 

Surprisingly, Dabi was kind in these moments. All the harshness of the moments before ended. Despite the brands and bruises, you’d carry for the coming days (weeks, even), you knew how soft and sweet he’d get as you both came down.

He flattened you onto your stomach, tracing between your thighs to scoop up a bit of leaking cum, pressing into back up and into your pussy, “Can’t waste this now, can we?”

“N-no,” Your voice trembled as your sex stung. The euphoria of the pain was fading, and your well-fucked cunt was sore as all hell. “Can’t waste.”

Dabi, also surprisingly, was very attentive.

“Hush now,” He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, climbing over your thighs as he began to rub your shoulders. “Only talk when your ready, alright sweet thing?”

It figures that you would have the morning shift on Christmas Eve. It’s an ungodly start time, and you can only imagine how impatient and down right rude the customers will be today of all days. You’ve been working at this place a little over a year, just a few months longer than you’ve been together with your boyfriend. It’s as decent as any slog job could be, which isn’t very, but better than most you suppose. At least the uniform is cute.

Mostly it’s made bearable by the man wrapped around you. When he learned you were living paycheck to paycheck he insisted on taking on some of your bills.

“It’s a gift, babe. Like a fancy sweater or a bottle of wine. We don’t have to be weird about it,” he told you, rubbing your nape with a golden smile.

The idea still made you sweat. But Keigo’s monthly allotment dwarfed your own. By a lot. It was an amount that had you gaping when he finally broke down and told you, assuring you all the while that it’s fine, he wants to do this for you.

“Some of your bills” ended up being almost all of them. When you logged on to pay your water it was already taken care of. Same with electric and gas. He even took care of your yearly recycling fee.

You know he would have paid your rent too, if he was able. But your old fashioned landlord still asks for checks in person, and you stubbornly refuse to give Keigo the address. He could easily hunt the information down, but he wanted to respect your wishes. Even if he pestered you for a week straight about telling him.

But … you felt guilty for how much he spent on you. And how much you enjoyed it.

Keigo, however, seemed ecstatic that you had lost the fog of worry hanging over you. You managed to save up a little nest egg for emergencies. You had cash left over to buy appliances that made your life ten times easier. You tossed your overwhelming stash of coupons. You even bought a set of silky underwear as a surprise. It was very much appreciated.

You hate to admit that having money is making you freer and happier but—it’s the truth. Keigo was right; it’s a gift. One you indulge in to the utmost extent.

So when your alarm goes off you don’t really mind that Keigo reaches over and immediately slams the off button, tugging you deeper into his chest and murmuring that you should go back to sleep. He’ll be awake to make sure you’re ready in time.

Except—he doesn’t.

You wake again with a start. The room is considerably and concerningly much brighter, and you squirm out of Keigo’s hold, batting at the mess of blankets searching for your phone. When you find it and check the time, you almost drop it again. You were supposed to be at the shop fifteen minutes ago.

Keigo is awake, of course, and watching you with a lopsided grin. “Babe, come back to bed.”

You barely hear him, trying to get ready as quickly as possible. You throw on your uniform and try to assemble your hair into something more respectable, ignoring his bedside chatter.

Your morning routine is a whirlwind of dropped items and forgotten steps. Keigo finally puts an end to it when you trip over the boot you just dropped.

“Dove.” His grip is firm around your hips. He turns you so you’re facing each other, drops his forehead onto yours. “Take a breath.”

You do. It barely helps the jitters you feel over missing your shift.

Keigo sees this. He gives you a squeeze before his hand slips to your lower back, pulling you into him and rubbing big, warm circles against your skin.

His voice is a little too casual when he says, “I think you should just quit.”

Your knee jerk reaction is terror. Then you remember that you don’t have to worry about money anymore, and any argument you could muster feels silly. “But, my apartment...”

He pulls back to fix you with a grimace. “You hate your job.”

“Maybe not...hate.”

“You strongly dislike it.”

“Yeah.”

“Quit.” He pinches your nose before you can respond, saying. “I’ll take care of it.”

He must see the skepticism in your gaze because suddenly he’s pulling away, reaching into his pocket. It’s your robe, silky and soft and teasingly short, one of the things you bought yourself with the money you saved. Seeing him in it settles some of your frazzled nerves.

“Here,” he says, dangling something shiny and bright in front of you. “I wanted to surprise you, but I guess now is as good a time as any.”

You slip the object off his finger—keys. “Is this—“

“A house. Bought and paid for in full.” He takes out his phone, flicking through a series of photos, showing you the place. It’s exactly your taste, the color, the appliances. “We can go look at it today, if you want.” He peeks at you, taking in your expression, your posture. His tone is still confident, but you catch the uncertain lilt taking root. “If you don’t like it we can find another one. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come look at places with me, I just thought it would be nice, yknow? A cute little Christmas thing. But we can—“

You stop him with a kiss. Your fingers tighten around the keys. No way he’s taking them from you now.

“Keigo,” you whisper against his lips. “I love it.”

You didn’t really take in any of the pictures he’d shown you, too shocked by the fact that he had bought you a house. What you love is the spare time it will allow you to spend on Keigo, with Keigo. What you love is him.

“Yeah?” he says. He pulls away to press butterfly kisses against your cheeks, your forehead. “Good.”

You still end up at the shop. You can’t leave your coworkers to work Christmas Eve alone.