#AWFUL SCUMMY DABI | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

gin and tonic and bad, bad men

Collab Masterlist

✧ pairing: bartender!dabi x waitstaff!fem!reader

✧ word count: 6k

✧ warnings: misogyny, scummy dabi, noncon/dubcon, yandere vibes, cat calling, toxic relationships, toxic work environment, face fucking (?), smut, semi-public sex (in an alley), alcohol, drunk reader, drunk sex, smoking mention, brief spitting, humiliation, light degradation, probably incorrect use of restaurant terminology, reader is implied female but no body parts are explicitly gendered

✧ summary: Dabi is willing to protect you from those awful, nasty men who torment you at work, but he never does anything on the house -- or the newbie at the bar catches dabi's attention and everyone else's.

✧ a/n: Heyy my first dabi, and he's scummy as hell in this. who's shocked? Not me. This is for the BNHAREM collab and it's a coworker/workplace au! Please go check out all the other works, everyone is so talented! Enjoy~

Dead men tell no tales, but drunk men’s mouths run wild.

Liquor loosens the lips like no other force of nature.

Dabi knows this to be true.

Whiskey runs hot in the blood and makes hands reach to lay claim on whatever is closest, whatever is prettiest within their grasp.

Alcohol on the tongue draws forth cravings from deep, hidden pits in men—bears their ugly truths to the world—and Dabi is the master of this liquid sorcery.

He sits, high and mighty, behind the safety of his bartop and watches the sea of bodies grow loose with vodka and gin and in turn he drinks their secrets. Sees the things they hide in sobriety and knows their nature with a removed certainty that is only found in those who have seen the darkest depths of mankind and come out the other side stinking of their filth.

The mahogany slab that separates Dabi from the waves of slobbering drunkards does nothing to stop the infection from spreading. He knows their thoughts, knows their truth, knows what their hands long to bruise, because they’re his thoughts too.

His truth.

His longing.

Kept only at bay by the simple fact that the boss doesn’t like him drinking on shift. Likes to keep his air of professionalism even if the bar is nothing more than a seedy dive in the bad part of the bad part of town.

Whatever keeps him off Dabi’s back is fine.

“The bar is over there and that door is to the kitchen…”

Toga’s voice pulls him from his stupor. The dirty rag he’d been using to halfheartedly wipe down the counters leaves his skin slick, calluses soft and plump as the water eats at them. She’s showing around one of the new hires. The turn over rate for staff here is so goddamn awful that this is a near weekly occurrence, so Dabi doesn’t pay her much mind as she wanders over.

It isn’t until her face is shoved up against his across the bar that he looks away from his task.

“Say hi to the newbie!” she cackles, smile just deranged enough to keep her safe from the crowds on packed nights.

Toga doesn’t look it but she belongs here too, in the filth and squalor of humans. But not like him. She thrives and gorges herself on their foolishness, twirling through the mob of patrons, always knowing who’s back to pat for gracious tips and who’s to stab when she needs to.

He glances up through his lashes and is both shocked and unsurprised by what he finds.

Hanging off the end of Toga’s arm, you stand out against the dingy background of the taproom. The smog of the bar clings to it’s staff, making their hair dull and their eyes red rimmed. You haven’t been poisoned yet though. The smell of the downpour raging outside still clings to you and errant raindrops drip down your chin like tears.

“Hey,” he grumbles and with another prodding look from Toga tacks on a gruff, “name’s Dabi.”

“He’s our bartender,” Toga provides after his silence and you smile. He guesses cause you don’t know any better.

You’ll learn not to do that down here soon enough.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Your name slips off your lips and onto his like top shelf tequila. There’s rain on your palm as you reach out for him, so when he takes it to shake, you can’t feel the way the grime clings to his skin—can’t feel the roughness etched into his fingers through the chill.

Can’t see him for what he is.

Meanwhile, you’re practically transparent in the dim, neon light of the bar.

The buttons of your shirt are undone too low, he notices as Toga drags you away to the back. He could warn you, should warn you. That when the late night crowd stumbles in, you’ll want those extra inches of skin covered up. That dressing like that is just asking for something to get smacked.

You must be stupid to not know it, because he doesn’t think you do.

You’re not really carrying yourself like a slut, he thinks, watching you trail along behind his boisterous coworker smiling and nodding and eager to please.

He ought to warn you.

But he knows he won’t.

You’ll be gone within a week and Dabi will swiftly forget your name and face just like the others before you. He’ll sneak shots in while his manager’s back is turned and any memory of you will be filtered out by his abused liver.

But for now, Dabi reigns himself back in to polish some of the obvious stains from his glasses and prepares himself for the show. The doors open in an hour, and he wants to be ready for the action.

The drunk antics of all the city's criminals gets old fast when you’re the one who has to clean up their shit.

Fresh meat is the only real entertainment they ever get around here.

So Dabi watches as you don one of the stained, black aprons and doesn’t tell you to cover up that sliver of your chest practically glowing in the electric red and blue light. Just looks on from the relative sanctuary of the bar as Toga instructs you on how to carry the drink trays and waits patiently to see you be devoured.

After you trip on the way back to the kitchen, Dabi pulls a twenty out of his pocket and shoves it in a jar hidden under the bartop. He makes a mental note to tell the chef he’s betting on just under a week you’ll last.

At the very least he’ll get a free performance and a neat hundred out of your inevitable failure.

He goes back to polishing, only looking up once as you breeze past the bar on your way to unlock the gates for the nocturnal animals of the city to filter in as they please.

You smile at him again as you pass.

Dabi tosses another twenty into the jar.

***

Well, he may have lost the bet, but he can’t find it in himself to mourn the forty dollars too hard.

Today would be your two week anniversary, and honestly, Dabi felt a bit of grudging respect for the determination you showed, no matter how pointless it was.

Determination and foolishness often came hand in hand.

He couldn’t help but think you looked more than a little the fool as you smiled and made unbridled eye contact with the patrons while walking your rounds from table to table. You’d learned enough to cover up a bit more, but he can’t be sure if that’s because you’ve started to notice the stares or because a spring cold front has rolled over the city. Either way, he watches you shiver under the gaze of a particularly rowdy guest and feels a chill run up his own spine as he watches the man’s eyes trail up your thighs, drinking down the slivers of bare skin like his fifth beer of the night.

Dabi is intrigued now.

Wonders how you’ve made it out of the fray every night so far.

Wonders what you’re hiding under those skimpy clothes and friendly, thoughtless smiles.

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out.

It’s inevitable really. When you’re working nights there are certain occupational hazards to expect. So when the little clock above the bar reads just past one in the morning, and you drift out once again into the raging mass of bodies, Dabi isn’t shocked to hear the yelp and smash of glasses just a few minutes later.

The first die has been cast.

He looks up from pouring out two fingers of whiskey just in time to catch the man’s hand slipping between your thighs, dirty fingers digging into the flesh and yanking you down onto his spread legs. The tray of drinks you’d been carrying clatters to the floor, lacing the air with the sweet burn of alcohol and futile outrage.

It’s far too loud to hear what the man says to you, but the way his blackened, ragged nails press five perfect, filthy crescents onto your skin—how they mark you as a worthy target, claiming you with their muck—sends a clear enough message.

Dabi wouldn’t bother watching if it wasn’t you trying to squirm your way out of being passed from lap to lap around the booth. He’s isn’t the least bit ashamed to admit how curious he is to see which way you’ll react.

And while he expects passivity—a drawn look with wide eyes, hoping no reaction at all will leave them bored and searching for a more interesting conquest—Dabi finds himself on the wrong side of the tracks once more.

His eyebrows shoot up, quite the reaction from the generally stony bartender, as your hand cracks open palmed across the face of your captor. A strange, heavy silence falls over the bar. It lasts only a few precious seconds but it’s enough to draw the attention of your manager who pulls you, cursing and snarling like a dog without it’s muzzle, back to the kitchen.

It’s your face that does him in—seals both your fates in dripping cream and purple wax.

Working down here, in this pigsty bar with it’s air that clings and dirties and tarnishes, brightness of any kind is foreign.

Alluring.

And your eyes that shine with the glow of reckless willpower have the same draw as the fat wads of cash that slip too easily from drunk fingers into his tip jar. Defiance is a rare currency in the underworld and Dabi’s fingers itch as your secret is revealed.

You believe you’re worth something.

Even as he hears the rasp of his boss’ voice, berating and threatening from behind the swinging doors, Dabi can’t help but hold the image of your smile turned snarl. You’ll get off with a warning because you’ve lasted this long and it’s a hassle to find replacements with pretty enough faces. But only this once, do it again and you’ll be out on the street.

For his part he tries to look sympathetic when you crowd yourself behind the bar and pout with your tail between your legs.

You haven’t spoken to him since that first night and he hasn’t exactly made an attempt at conversation either.

It wasn’t like you were worth the effort before.

But now, as you sniffle and pretend the pin prick tears in your eyes are just from the bite of the liquor slicked floor, Dabi feels an old heat rise in him. Something stokes the embers that laid dying out inside the prison of his ribs, and he welcomes the familiar burn.

Like an old friend, like a knife at his throat.

The man from before approaches the bar to order another drink and his cloudy eyes don’t even seem to register the way you cower from him, back turned and sinking into the peeling wallpaper. They’ve forgotten you already. To them you are one of dozens, not worth the fight it takes when plenty of properly meek flesh hops from table to table, ripe for picking.

But Dabi see’s the flint in your hands and knows it’s you that lit this fire licking up the back of his throat.

With two rough fingers he beckons you over into the soft overhead spotlights of the bar. Like a beast to its master’s call you shuffle forward into his gravitational pull and look up at him warily.

“Wanna learn how to mix?” he asks, even to him his voice sounds harsh with disuse.

“...sure,” you say quietly, after a brief pause.

You’re warm and soft as he settles behind you, caging you in with his arms under the guise of reaching for a strainer or a jar of olives. Unlike that bastard, now long passed out from drink, Dabi’s face remains free of your claw marks when his chest brushes against you or his hand wanders to the small of your back to move you aside as he serves customers.

He even works up a little smile of his own when you stare, sunny bright over your shoulder at his attempt to distract you from the incident.

The city, the bar, the underground—all of it is an angry, storming ocean filled with angry, storming bodies that swiftly drowns its victims as they desperately tread water in the open, black abyss.

Without him, you’d learn to take the wandering hands and vulgar words or you’d be foolish enough to inhale them in lungfuls and sink to the bottom.

But as you smile and nod while he shows you how long to stir an Old Fashioned, Dabi feels his own neglected determination rise to the challenge.

By the end of the night, you already trail behind him as he does his rounds to each abandoned table. Like a stranded victim to a raft, you cling to the safety he’s dared to provide.

And if he plays his cards right.

He might not come out of this bet so empty handed.

If only you knew, he was no better than the rest of them.

You’d run straight from the trees into the wolf's den.

***

“What’s your favorite drink to make?” you ask.

Dabi glances up at you, his chest pressed against the cool surface of the bar as he surveys the empty taproom. It’s a little over an hour till opening, but the only thing waiting for him outside of this hellhole is an even deeper hellhole, so Dabi almost always finds himself lounging around the abandoned bar. The boss doesn’t care anyway as long as inventory gets taken and any dried blood from the night before is gone by the next day.

You’ve taken to drifting in early too, even sometimes on the nights you don’t work.

Normally, he’d be annoyed, but it’s better you’re here than out on the streets.

At least if you’re bugging him behind the bar, he can keep an eye on you. Dabi’s found recently that you’ve been on his mind with increasing frequency. It’s easier if you’re in his line of sight. There’s a certain reassurance in your dopey little smile and your hand fisted in the back of his shirt—your body knows where you belong even if your pretty little brain hasn’t quite caught up yet.

Pretty.

“My favorite or my best?” he grunts, pushing off the bar and wetting his lips.

“Is there a difference?”

You’re looking at him with what he assumes is meant to be a cocky grin, but he has a hard time taking you seriously with your crossed arms squishing your chest up like that.

“‘Course there is,” he turns to grab one of the highball glasses from it’s rack and sets it down on the counter. “Just because you like something, doesn’t mean you’re good to it.”

When he looks back at you over his shoulder, you’ve got this comical little furrow in your brow.

“To it?”

Dabi presses the tip of his finger into your forehead, “At it, whatever. Don’t frown so much, you’ll look old as fuck soon if you do.”

“You don’t know how old I am,” you scoff and slap his hand away.

“Bet I’m older,” he mumbles, searching the shelves of bottles idly while dropping a few cubes of ice into the glass.

It melts in his palm, slipping through the spaces between his fingers.

Dabi clenches his fist tighter.

“I don’t know about that,” you’re trotting around to the other side of the bar now, slipping into one of the worn, red topped stools and watching him start to mix.

He likes having you for an audience. Any other customer is only concerned with getting his drink as fast a possible, to numb whatever wounds need to be numbed on their insides. But you appreciate the art form of crafting this liquid destruction.

“I’m older where it counts,” he replies simply, pulling a bottle of gin down from near the top shelf and plopping it on the counter.

“Oh really? How’s that?”

Dabi measures out two ounces of sharp, clear liquor and pours it smoothly over the ice. He doesn’t bother looking at you as he works. He knows your eyes won’t leave him.

“Experience,” he offers and doesn’t elaborate.

The tonic water cracks open with a satisfying hiss and bubbles as he tips it into the glass. You trail your fingers through the condensation on the bar absentmindedly.

“I’m not as clueless as you think I am, you know that?”

He does glance at you then, senses the lack of your attention that’s focused on the fading finish of the bar top.

Dabi waits in silence.

You do elaborate.

“There’s some real fucking choice clientele here, but nothing that’s gone down on shifts is like, a new development.”

“No?” he asks because you expect him to respond and because he enjoys the way you perk up when he actually engages in a conversation with you.

He likes that you like it.

His attention.

It’s not often he finds anyone worth the effort.

“No.”

You stare at him expectantly now, eyes flicking between him and the glass as he stirs the drink a few times and grabs a lime wedge.

Dabi rolls his eyes at the clear fishing line you’re casting for more questions, but takes the bait anyway.

He hopes you know how lucky you are.

“What, got groped on the train a few times and now you think you're a seasoned member of the criminal underground?” he squeezes the fruit between two fingers lightly to spread its juice around the rim and lets it float atop the ice. “I fucking knew you were a dramatic little bitch.”

“I am not dramatic,” you pout just like you do every time the boss chews you out.

He gets the distinct feeling you’re just as much of a petulant little brat elsewhere as you are at work. Then again, that is what makes you so interesting. If you didn’t try to gnash those little baby teeth at him every now and again, he wouldn’t have bothered jumping to your rescue so often.

Dabi doesn’t partake in...partners often. People disappoint him, which isn’t shocking considering the amount of shit he’s seen them spew in his years behind the bar. People are dirty and never in the sexy way all those pop songs talk about, and that makes them boring. The allure of inviting someone else into his shoebox little life is shaping them to fit it. You can’t sculpt mud that loses its shape, slips through your fingers and back to the filthy earth where it belongs.

But you haven’t been stained yet.

You sit at his bar looking like a perfect slab of clay, ready for his hands to dip past those sweet, sweet lips and form them to fit only his fingers.

A rare find in a place like this, just like the single malt on his top shelf—unexpected, leaving behind a pleasant burn on his tongue.

He thinks back to that man on the first night he showed you some of the drinks and all the others that came after him. Here, in the bar, you can come scurrying over and hide behind the wall of his chest. You can put Dabi and the counter between you and the mass of hands and whistles.

He hadn’t really bothered to think of what might happen to you when he’s not around.

Who might touch his precious treasure he’s managed to dig out of muck.

Who might try and ruin you before he gets the chance.

His brain is working to rationalize the growing feeling of possession he feels towards the half frown half permanent smile that you fix him with. But he knows.

He knows exactly what he’d like to do to you and how he’d like to do it.

Knows it’s exactly what all those creeps on the train or drunks that stumble in one hour to call would like too.

It’s fine though. People like him wouldn’t be so attracted to people like you if you weren’t asking for it.

And you were asking.

Every time you stood by him, attached at the hip and let him chase off the assholes who tried to get in your pants or practically begged him with your eyes for some scrap of attention—you were asking for him to take control.

Even if you were too stupid to see it for yourself.

Your body knows what you want, even if you deny it with every fiber left of you.

He doesn’t offer another response, just slides the concoction across and into your outstretched hands.

Gin and tonic is simple, bare bones and hard to fuck up. He likes that. Everything else is so goddamn complicated, this type of magic doesn’t need to be.

You seem to forget the weight of the previous conversation and peer curiously down into the glass. Dabi is shameless as he watches your lips wrap around the curved edge and your throat constrict as you swallow.

He likes that more than the floral gin that hits his tongue when you pass the drink back and he sips.

“So which is it, your favorite or your best?”

There’s a pause as he considers the questions before passing the glass back to you.

“My favorite.”

He isn’t looking at the drink when he answers.

“Oh,” you respond quietly, sipping lightly on the drink he’s made and looking at him like he isn’t seconds away from taking you then and there.

“Stay awhile after your shift,” he says, not much thought behind the words. “I’ll drive you home.”

***

You look almost angelic, a beacon amongst the refuse and grime of the back alley, silhouetted by the dying orange glow of a lone street lamp. The door to the kitchen is still rattling in its frame as Dabi pulls you stumbling behind him.

He isn’t angry.

But there’s something burning in him.

In reality, he’d felt the potential of the night the instant he walked through the front doors, slipping behind the bar to clock in only to find you leaned up against the drink racks, ready and waiting.

The same sensation since the first time you’d smiled that dopey smile his way was raging to a crescendo under his skin. He’d been doing you a service all these weeks, keeping you from the prying eyes and fingers of the patrons—keeping them from soiling what was his to ruin.

Tonight he would take what he was owed.

Indulge a bit in what he’d won, the gold nugget he’d plucked from the dirty, city sewer riverbed.

After all, he needed to make sure you were a worthwhile investment.

If the boss thought the restaurant business was risky….well, Dabi knew better.

You struggled a bit as his fingernails dug into the skin on your bicep, but he just tugged harder, clicking his tongue at the jumble of slurred protests you groaned into the sweet summer air. There was a space between the two massive dumpsters out behind the kitchen Dabi used to go to smoke. It was a nice, private little spot. Didn’t smell too great but nothing here did, and that wouldn’t matter when he had you to distract him anyway.

In seconds he had your back to the wall, hidden on either side by steel containers. The brick caught on your uniform and Dabi watched the fabric tighten around your chest and throat. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, but your hands were weak as they shoved at him, easy to gather in one palm and pin down.

He wasn’t exactly sure what put this idea in his head—the urgency in his blood—but it definitely had something to do with that last customer.

It was halfway through your night shift, closing in on one in the morning. Dabi was stuck behind the bar, churning out cheap beers and lines of shots. You’d been forced to brave the sea of regulars, too busy to hide yourself away in the kitchen with Toga or watch with owl-wide eyes as Dabi doled out liquor.

The bar was unusually packed. Not that it was strange for a bar to be full on a Friday night, but he’d never seen the place without an empty seat in sight.

Maybe it was because you were so easily swallowed up by the roiling mass of bodies, or maybe it was because Dabi lost himself in the magic of the drinks—of the mixing and matching and perfecting—that he didn’t notice the man.

That the way this particular customer stared and touched and spoke to you miraculously didn’t end in a smart slap to the face and a screaming session from the manager.

No. It seemed that somewhere along the way he’d let that light in you, the matchstick spark, dwindle just a bit too much, let you sink just a bit too far into the mud of the place. Cause when this man pulled you into his lap and plied you with shot after shot, cheering all the time, calling you his ‘pretty little thing,’ you didn’t put up any fight.

No.

No you smiled that dumb, bright eyed smile at him.

Flashed this nobody asshole Dabi’s sweet little smile and drank the shots he’d poured like Dabi hadn’t wasted the nearly a month driving you home and keeping you safe from the human garbage that wandered in off the street. Like all that work had been for nothing, up in ashes the instant that man’s hand found purchase on your bare thigh and you didn’t so much as squirm in his grip.

You squirm now though.

Fight despite the alcohol blurring your vision and turning your bones to jelly. Normally the boss hates it when his employees drink on shift, but if you want to take it like the fucking slut you were well, who’s Dabi to stop you?

He kept pouring rounds for that table and watched the man tip sweet, top shelf whiskey down your throat. It didn’t take long till you were losing your balance and sinking deeper into the quicksand debris of the bar.

Gin and tonics used to be medicinal—mixed up with quinine to treat malaria. Dabi likes that. Likes the idea that he’s whipping up healing potions instead of Molotovs. Likes the freshness amidst the burn.

But Dabi wants you to burn now.

Wants your throat on fire with the betrayal.

It’s easy to force your knees. The whiskey made you pliant even as you shake your head and look up at him with bleary eyes.

“You’re looking at me now, huh?” he works his tongue across his teeth as the words leave him, spitting straight on your cheek to watch you recoil in disgust. “Didn’t seem too interested in me earlier.”

“I don’t, I’m sorry...what?” you mumble.

He thinks if you were more coherent you might be crying.

Maybe he should have cut you off sooner.

“Don’t act stupid with me,” he still has your hands held above your head and his free hand moves to grip your scalp. “You’ve been behind my bar so many times, there’s no way you don’t know I see everything.”

“Why didn’t you…” Dabi shakes your head as your eyes droop and you gasp at his nails raking your skin. “You could have helped me!”

“What? Help you get fucked by some drunk shit? I don’t think so.”

“No,” you shake your head yourself this time, face screwed up in confusion and as the grit of the alley bites into your knees. “They wouldn’t let me leave, I was scared, Dabi please—”

He is swiftly losing his patience, hand leaving your head to fumble with the clasp of his belt and pants. The look on your face—tears beginning to bead at the corners of your eyes and mouth opening up as words try but fail to find their way off your tongue—is enough to have his cock twitching with interest.

“Listen sweetheart, cause I’m not gonna fucking say this again,” he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in his chest as his dick falls free from his boxers and your eyes go almost all white as he strokes up the ladder of piercings on his shaft. “You might think you’re cut out for this job, but you aren’t shit. Everything’s got a price down here and you’re gonna have to pay the fuck up for what you owe me.”

You look like you want to protest, even in this state—on your knees in an dirty as fuck alley with a fat cock nudging your lips—but he’s got his thumb worked between your teeth, shoving down on your tongue until your jaw pops open and he can sheath himself inside.

The half choke, half sob, half shameful moan that squeezes out past his dick only has Dabi growing harder. It’s been so long since he’s fucked someone’s throat. So long since he’s fucked anything at all, he’s nearly forgotten how goddamn good it feels to have something other than a fist wrapped around him.

His fingers migrate, moving to grip you by the cheeks, keeping your mouth open and jaw locked so you can’t bite him. Not that he thinks you really would.

Your body knows what you want.

And it seems like you really want a fucking dick in your mouth.

He pulls out, listening to the click of the little metal barbells against your teeth and the gasp of air you take before he plunges back in.

“Look at you,” he muses, daring to release your hands which flop uselessly to your sides as he holds your face still and starts to roll his hips. “Don’t know why I waited so long to collect, fucking shit.”

Your neck bulges with every stroke of his hips, and when the ring at the tip of his dick nudges the back of your throat, you gag so pretty he can hardly stand it.

He wonders idly, as you cry and choke on his cock, if you’re thinking about the man in the bar. Wishing it was his length you were lapping at like a good little hole.

Wishing Dabi had been better.

Not like the others.

And for a moment, it has him stilling—the horrid notion that there might have been something not so twisted between you if only he wasn’t scum like the rest, if he wasn’t just hiding his dirt on the inside.

Tar logged lungs and heart.

But then he remembers that if he just fucks you hard enough, you’ll forget all those nasty things until you’re fit just for him. Molded for Dabi right down to the thoughts in your head.

So instead of stopping this now and hoping you’re drunk enough to forget the filth of the alley and the salt of his cum on your tongue, he picks up his pace.

His thighs burn with the effort, not used to this kind of movement after years alone, and your face is a mess of tear tracks and spit that dribbles out in streams around the length of him slamming into your throat.

It’s quick and dirty and hard and everything Dabi has ever been and will always be. Delicious and hot and fresh. His blood is pounding in his ears, drowning out the cries and sobs and whimpers coming from you between his knees. Instead his head is alight with the thought that soon he’ll mark that mouth as his, claim you before the others could. And if the road to hell is paved with good intentions then Dabi doesn’t know where he’s going when he dies, but he’s deep in heaven now.

With a bang and a whimper Dabi will pretend didn’t slip past his lips, he slams past your teeth once more before exploding in your mouth. Thick, white ropes of release coat your tongue and he doesn’t pull out, just works his fingers under your jaw until he feels you swallow around his softening cock.

Only then does he take a step back to survey his work.

Half in shadow, surrounded in trash and debris, cum stained with dirt under your nails, Dabi feels pride well in his chest.

Distantly he thinks that this burning sense of completion, of perfection, of accomplishment, is what an artist must feel—hand finally dropping the brush to gaze upon their life’s work.

A masterpiece.

His perfect, human clay creation.

Your mouth still hangs dumbly open, hands resting on the brick dust coated ground, your eyes are wide and still stare up at him—reminiscent of a peasant gazing onto a king, confused at the power before you. And with the dim burning of the streetlight, illuminating his hair and glinting off the silver piercings adorning his ears, Dabi thinks he must look just that—a king with his crown of bloody jewels.

He watches as you sway and fall forward on your hands and coughing onto the ground. Your chest heaves, your legs shake, and Dabi feels his shoulders soften. He tucks himself away slowly, refastening his belt as your sputtering subsides. With careful steps, he moves to stand in front of you once again, running his hand along the back of your head until your breaths come deeply and his mouth tastes sickly sweet at the way your hands move to grip at his boots.

“Hey,” he mumbles, feeling some strange heat in his face that brings him to his knees before you. “Look at me.”

And you do in an instant.

Dabi half expects a glare, steely and cold like the walk-in but it’s not.

Your eyes are blank and glossy, staring hooded and helpless like a stray cat desperate to be carried away and fed warm milk.

He wipes a bit of his own release from the corner of your mouth and doesn’t question the sudden, intense need to lick behind your teeth. With filthy hands he cups your face and revels in the feel of your swollen lips and the taste of himself on your tongue.

It screams ownership.

And Dabi has never had much to his name so the thought only makes him want to cling harder.

As he pulls away there’s a smear of red dust on your cheek from his thumbs stroking the skin. Marked. Claimed. Coated in a thin layer of grime just like every other poor soul that walks into this place, but that dirt is his. That filth is him, a permanent imprint on your bones.

He thinks you’d look good with his name in black ink etched into your flesh, dark and blatant so anyone who looks at you would know, would see who owns you even when the muck has been washed away.

“You did good,” he says, giving you a smile of his own—maybe his first, surely not his last.

Your voice is nothing more than a sunken ship wreckage of what it once was, interrupted with sniffles and creaks. “I..want to go home….”

“Let me drive you,” his hands reach under your arms to lift you shakily off the ground, head tucked safely into his shoulder as he helps you limp to his car. “Not safe for you to go walking at this time of night. Men can be fucking monsters you know?”

His heart pounds happily in his chest as you nod against him.

“Thanks,” you whisper into his shirt.

Dabi grins wider than he can ever recall. The kind of expression that makes his cheeks ache and his head spin.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” the words drip off his tongue, top shelf truth if he’s ever heard it. “Anytime.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #bnha fanfiction #tw: alcohol #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw misogyny #tw sexism #tw cat calling #tw drinking #tw toxic behavior #tw yandere #tw spitting #bee.writes

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kittiestkat · 3 years

Text

€ 5,00 !? for a coffee !!

scummy!dabi!hawks x fem!reader

dark content (dubcon/noncon)

this is from my old blog sorry :( have writers block rn !! (not proof read)

it had been how many weeks now. two three? you had lost count. your mind was jumbled and your body still felt dirty. no matter how many times you scrubbed, the feeling remained. but no matter how many people you slept with to forget the accident, nothing satisfied you.

god, what were you? some common whore begging to me taken advantage of by two brutes again. it was laughable. embarrassing!

school was a distraction but also a reminder. you skipped lessons to avoid them. contemplated changing courses even. anything to forget.

you were listening to god knows what, studying still after several hours. your mind seriously couldn’t wrap around analysing any form of english.

you were aching to slip into bed, watch some tv and doze off. before you could form a coherent thought as to how to answer this question, a knock to your door jolts you out of your thoughts. that’ll be your roommate, drunk no doubt. fridays were always ‘party days’ in her eyes.

“coming!” you roll your eyes when the knocks grew louder, snickers coming from behind the thick wood.

“i told you, i can’t keep babying you when your drunk.” swinging the door open you weren’t met with the petit red head, but instead two pair of silted eyes staring at you.

you couldn’t close the door? well no, not when dabi’s foot was so rudely jamming it back open.

“well, well, well. what do we have here?”

“please, what do you want?”

“please what do you want.” the raven haired boy mocked you, eyes sparkling and teeth bared. you were stuck, a mouse in a trap.

you felt you heart swell, tears drop. “awe dabi, you’ve gone and made her cry,” the blonde said in faux empathy “it’s okay baby, ignore him.”

empty words, that’s all they were. empty words from people who could care less.

“please, just…” your words trailed off as the two large men barged past my door, bolting it shut.

“please what…? make you feel good? oh trust me baby, we will.”

the feeling of hawks slender fingers tugging curls behind your ear made you recoil. begin to scream, thrash, sob. the two looked at each other, eyebrows raised, faces amused, teeth bared.

whatever you did before was no good. actually it only spurred them on. “this little hole was just waiting for me, huh.” the blonde says, a statement more than a question.

his cock pistons in and out of you, thrashing you to reluctantly take dabi further down you throat, making him emit and gargled moan. “mm, you’re so fucking warm.” the raven hair said, hand stroking your back as the hawks lifted his leg, making your back arch and legs shake.

the assault carries on for what seemed ages. you were a mere spit roast. you could feel the humiliation wrap around you as your throat began to bruise and your insides started to quiver.

“keigo.” your voice seemed pathetic even to you, it was laced with pleasure, there was no denying it.

“you hear something dabi.” the blonde said, as if he wasn’t fucking into you at an ungodly pace.

“no? last time i checked onaholes didn’t speak.” the boys laughed as tears wet your cheeks.

“mm gonna’ cream in this tight pussy, huh.” you couldn’t reply to him, dabi had a death grip on your head as his thrusts grew sloppy.

“gonna take my cum, baby?” you could only whimper. you weren’t able to reply. they knew that. they liked that.

dabi was almost ripping out your hair as you gagged around him, waiting for him to still. after a few more languid thrusts in your abused throat, he stopped, spirts of white shooting down you, making you convulse as hawks does the same, cum beginning to drip out of your poor little cunny.

pants filled the room, matching your whimpers. of course you couldn’t cum, how stupid were you to think you could? so naïve and willing, huh. pulling out of you, hawks avian eyes grew wide as white leaked, seeping and bubbling.

dabi groaned as spit fell from his dick in ropes, matching the cum. he crouched to you, smile never leaving. taking his fingers he shoved the cum pack into your pussy, gathering it and stuffing you like a turkey. you cried at the sudden intrusion, only to find those fingers in your mouth.

“not a drop spilt, you hear me?” standing up he grimaced at the mess, insulting you as he got dressed.

the two boys began to turn, walking through your door, until dabi turned round, winking at you.

“oh,” he feigned innocence as he held up a discarded item “we’ll be taking these again.”

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keiarchived · 3 years

Text

Come To The Back | 18+

bodyguard!Dabi x rich spoiled!Reader x bodyguard!Hawks

warnings: dubcon/noncon, drugged, intoxicated, somnophila, breeding kink, split roasting

words: 1.6k

note: Decided to take part in BNHA Degeneracy discord server’s 9 to 5 collab last minute 👀 one of the nastier stuff I’ve written 💦 scummy duo ahead, read with caution ⛔️

Babysitting spoiled brats like you can never be less annoying, all you ever really wanted to do in your spare time is to party, get wasted and high. Whilst the duo have to follow you around all day because it is your daddy’s order after all, ‘Keep my daughter safe or I will have your heads.’ He made sure the consequences were known if they failed, Keigo and Touya were merely bodyguards send to protect this spoiled brat daughter of this billionaire. They have no influence like he does, sure they could run but they can’t hide forever. You are supposed to be good for your daddy, stay out of danger since his rival is out to get him and his family.

Getting only a few hours of sleep each day because of you had begun to wear their patient, it wasn’t as though they could talk to you about it. Believer me, they tried. But of course, your spoiled brat ass went running to your daddy and complained about how Hawks and Dabi were being mean to you which results in their first warning; wedges cut for a month all thanks to you. They simply don’t get paid enough for this, for putting up with you and your father’s bullshit.

But a job is a job, they needed the money. Let’s just hope this issue your father have between him and some of his acquaintances resolves quickly before one of them snaps out of bitterness.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The taller male huffed heavily, palms resting on either side of his hips as he stared down at your unconscious form. Your so-called friends were long gone after the party at this particular club has ended, leaving you out cold in the VIP booth before moving on with their night. You were mumbling none sense as Keigo went ahead and sat you upright with a soft coo, “Hey, you okay? Just drunk, stupidly high or both? Know where you are an angel?” Of course, the only responses they managed to get out of you were mumbles and grumbles that made absolutely no sense. “She’s definitely out of it.”

“You don’t say, let’s her out of here.” Touya bites back with a sigh, cigarette between his fingers. Seems like tonight will just be another night of them carrying your unconscious form back to the mansion, tugging you back into that warm and cosy cover of yours — or at least that’s what they should and suppose to do.

But rather they end up stripping those slutty clothes of yours, that’s what you want right? For men like them to use this body of yours, just admit it. You had been tempting and playing around with the duo for long enough, wearing these short skirts whenever they are around. Swaying your hips and batting your eyes at them whenever you pass them, you know fair well they cannot touch you because if your daddy knew; they would be gone. Good thing the man himself is gone for a couple of days due to a business trip, oh and they are going to have their fun with you.

One cock in your mouth and another buried deep inside your pussy, the duo wasted no time in stripping you naked after all. With your intoxicated and drugged-out self, it was easy for them to move you around, passing you between the two of them. “Fuck me, this pussy is good.” Keigo chuckled breathlessly, snapping his hips into that tight cunt of yours. Surely this is just an act right, pretending to be asleep so that they can continue to use you and let out their pent up frustration on you.

A cloud of smoke slipped between Touya’s lips has a low groan rumbled at his chest, stroking that slightly bulge neck of yours whilst a sadistic smirk tugged at his lips. You look much better like this, with cock at either end of your holes and being used them. “You should try these pretty lips too, given if you can last another round.” Touya taunts, earning a grunt from Keigo as he merely rolled his eyes at the other. “Fuck off.”

Just as the two began to bicker at each other, noises begin to come out of you. “Looks like our princess is awake.” Slowly, Touya slipped his hard pierced cock from those pretty plush lips. Allowing you to take a gasp of air whilst being as confused as ever with those hazy eyes, “Wh-what you doing?” There was a sense of panic in your voice and honestly, either one of them can blame you. Waking up to your bodyguards fucking you into cloud nine doesn’t happen every day and god knows how long they’ve been at it, “Oh don’t worry dove, we’re just taking good care of you. Right Dabs?” It was hard to keep his voice level without cracking as your ridge walls clamps down so tightly around his cock, even harder to hide that shit-eating smirk. Your jaw feels sore from how Touya been using you roughly, pussy feeling full, nice and stretched by Keigo’s cock.

“Exactly, you should be grateful, your highness. We don’t do this often, not free of charge at least.” Dabi’s voice was dangerously low as he mocked, reaching behind your neck and forcing you to take a look at the way his partner in crime’s cock disappearing into your slutty cunt. Even when you were passed out, it didn’t stop you from moaning and gushing slick between your legs. “This is what spoiled brats get when they tease too much.” A desperate whimper fell at those words, now that you are slightly more oriented you could feel the pleasure that comes with every thirst of Keigo’s hard cock. It would be a complete lie if you said you have never fantasied the duo take you like this before, they are handsome and attractive after all. Keigo with his witty charm and Dabi with his mysterious charm, it is hard to say no.

“That’s it baby, take it all! I-I’m cumming!” Keigo unloaded yet another ropes of cum deep inside your cunt, right up against your cervix adding to the growing mess. This totals up to three for his scores, Touya had been keeping track. Your lips hung open with drools tickling down the side of your lips, body reaching its own high whilst Keigo pulled out from your soaked pussy.

“Aw look at you, so pretty and all fucked out.” The sandy blonde man coos almost sympathetically, tugging those loose strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead. Seems like Touya had been doing quite the number on you too whilst fucking your throat open, it must be sore from those smooth metal rubbing and nudging along your velvety walls. You could feel your conscious fading in and out from that orgasm alone, swallowing on your own drool thickly as Keigo’s cum seeps out from you. Too bad this is far from over, Touya’s smirk widens as he leans down to capture those swollen lips. Exploring every inch he possibly can, warm metal swapping across your inner cheeks and lips. After all, you deserve a reward after taking Keigo’s load so good with your well-bred cunt.

“Don’t pass out on us just yet princess, you can take a few more rounds can’t you? For us hm?” Touya coos softly, cigarette scent lingering as he traces over your chin with his rough fingers. Keigo and his partner in crime exchanged a look; the look with a same shit-eating smirk stretched across their lips before switching places with Touya running his cock back and forth between your swollen slit and Keigo nudging at those pouty lips of yours. “Good girl.” One of them praises but you weren’t so sure who it was from, head spinning from the alcohol and drugs you had consumed hours before.

Touya is much rougher than the blonde when it comes to pounding you, with a merciless pace as the tip of his cock continuously hammer at your cervix. Pressing all of the right buttons inside with those round metals of his piercings, “Fuck.. you are good.. should’ve done this a long time ago.” He can barely count the number of time he had wanted to put you back in your places with his hands, forcing them to stay up all night just so you can get home safely — thrust, railing them on purpose — thrust. But Touya managed to hold back, that was until now where the final line has been drawn. It is a risky bet but Touya bet on that you wouldn’t tell your daddy how good your bodyguard fucked you, filled you to the brim with cum and made you into their own personal cumdump. You wouldn’t, why would you when you could have them do it all over again?

Keigo had you choking on a mixture of your own saliva and his essence, quickening his pace once as you could feel the way your throat burns deliciously around him throbbing cock. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased them as much as you had, maybe you should’ve listened to Dabi’s warnings of this dangerous game you had been playing with them. But it’s too late now, they had caught you by your cunt and lips. “Fuck... gonna breed you, see how your daddy likes it when he finds you all swollen with some unknown child.” Touya grunts, letting out a breathy laugh before it turns into something sinister. “You wouldn’t even know who’s the baby daddy would you?” Touya hissed at the way you suddenly squeezed around him when he mentioned it, “Oh you like it huh?” Which only made him grin wider as his climax approached and without a second warning — ropes of warm cum painted both ends of your walls white.

Your bodyguards are now a panting mess as they withdraw from you, sitting on the edge of your now white stained bed whilst a faint chuckle escaped Touya’s lips. “Liked the idea of bearing our kid that much? You slut.” The night is still young and it will be a few more days before you daddy comes home from his business trip, you couldn’t help but wonder what other ways the two of them would use you. Licking over your lips hazily, out of focus eyes gazed towards the two male. You want more, don’t you?

#bnha imagines #bnha smut #mha imagines #mha smut #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #dabi x reader x hawks #hawks x reader x dabi #collab #hawks smut #dabi smut #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #tw’dubcon #tw’drug #tw’intoxicated #tw’somn #tw’breeding #tw’split roasting

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hydrangeasimagination · 3 years

Text

Future

Pairing(s): Dabi X DFAB! Reader

Summary: Dabi’s got some thoughts. Not all of them are good... But he has you and as long as he holds you, he knows he holds his future in his arms.

Warning(s): Mentioned; Blood. Murder. Trauma. Intrusive Thoughts.

A/N: Alright, uh, the reader is pregnant! I used gender neutral language and no pronouns though so it’s still somewhat like... Still inclusive? Well, I tried to anyhow. I’ll be tagging gender neutral and fem reader? But here’s a preface!

This was written for my best friend! Who is expecting - ily bb!!

(it’s also short)

This was simultaneously the best and worst experience of life, everything. It was everything he dreaded from days of youth, years of trauma shaping the intense want to run away like he once had.

But he was no longer a little boy or a scummy teenager.

Just a scummy adult.

A scummy husband.

Now... An expectant father.

Something he'd never expected among the many, many atrocities and crimes he'd committed. He'd done awful things, filthening his hands with the blood of innocents.

Dabi was going to be a dad.

Fire blue eyes settled upon tranquil features, alight and shadowed by the moving images on the screen. Cuddled up in a downy blue sweater with fraying sleeves, bodies wrapped together under a blanket.

His gaze shifted downward to the swell of your belly, his dark painted fingernails stark upon the growing bump.

Honestly, it was like the biggest paradox; he was on cloud nine but at the same time he wanted the brat to be born already.

While it was terrifying, he couldn't have chosen anyone better than you to have knocked up...

There was the lingering, nagging fear that seeped through the cracks of his thoughts - staining his brain in black. Drowning in it's depths of despair.

What if he ended up like his dad?

What if you ended up like his mom?

What if he manages to fuck up this kid?

Fuck up your relationship?

"Dabi?"

He flinched, but his gaze remained languid.

"Yeah, baby doll?"

Your stare was almost unending, soft in its intent. Palm cupping his cheek, the smile you give him settles his heart.

The radiance was enough to melt it.

Thumb stroking along the edge of skin meeting the patched burn, he leaned into your touch.

Other hand resting on his, pressing them closer to the life growing within.

"We got this." Your croon was reassuring, strong in its conviction.

.... We got this.

The both of you.

Together...

It was as if warm water was poured on him, washing him of his filthy, blood soaked hands. Soothing the screams of demons in the echoes of his damaged mind.

... He wasn't sure if he was ready to be a father, despite all the reading he'd done in secret.

But he knew, as long as he had you; his sweet baby doll, his darling spouse, his other half....

He could do this.

He will do this.

He loves you both too much not too.

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inkykeiji · 3 years

Note

on mobile you gotta just let it refresh and load... but the new chapter... ouchie ouch ouch my heart :((( dabi being manipulative hurt me so bad i thought he was gonna be all sweet and romantic but then i remembered he’s also scummy :(( and tomura being in that much pain hurt me, ur writing never fails to impress me i love you and take a break baby clawi mwah mwah

thank you anon!!! yeah, that’s what i had to do, too, ehehehe. it seems like it’s loading better now (for me anyway!!!). LMAO AWWW ANON BABIE I AM SO SORRY hehehe yes yes he is extremely scummy!!! don’t let him fool u like that!! he’s dangerous in that way hahaha.

aw sweetpea thank you so very much, i love you lots n lots n lots!!! <333 i am!! just spending the majority of this week working through all of these incredibly kind and beautiful asks!!! it’s really lovely just to be able to leisurely chat with you all again without bmb looming over my shoulder LMAO

#before part 3 was finished #i used to feel so guilty if i was doing anything else in my free time other than working on it #i fought against that guilt of course #because it's silly #but it is still quite nice to be able to sit down and answer everyone at a relaxed pace #i hope you're having a stellar day anon bb!!!#ilysm!!!!!!#please keep urself as safe as u can!!#sweet anon 🥺#clari gets mail #stanley queuebrick

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 265: Tamaki What Did You Eat

Previously on BnHA: The heroes began their invasion of the Ol’ Villain Marriott. Down in the basement, Re-Destro was all “what’s going my fresh villain citizens, what a beautiful day, well I guess we should start that meeting” and they were all “WE’RE UNDER FUCKING ATTACK” and he made a face and I laughed. Class 1-B, Edgeshot, and Midnight then jovially killed some people, and then we cut to Dabi and Hawks! Hawks was all “sorry it has to be this way Bubaigawara but I’m gonna have to arrest you” and Twice got all Harry Potter in that one scene from the Prisoner of Azkaban movie, and then he did the thing, and fucking Hawks just fucking stood there and DID NOTHING. So now he’s gonna have to fight 100,000 Twices I guess, and meanwhile Dabi is running up the stairs on his way to intervene and somehow make things even more chaotic. Also either Hawks or Dabi thinks heroes are scum, and I’m still not clear on which. But basically it’s safe to say that angst is on the way, friends.

Today on BnHA: Tamaki turns into a horse. I have questions. Dark Shadow fights fucking Re-Destro and fucking destroys him in like two seconds flat, like holy shit whaaaaat. Then Tokoyami just hops on inside of Fatgum like a goddamn marsupial, and spends several pages like this, during which I completely can’t focus the entire time but I do remember that we learned that Machia won’t be joining the fight because he apparently only listens to Tomura, so that’s convenient I guess. Then we cut to Twice and Hawks (I literally typed out “Dabi and Hawks” just now and had to go back and change it, so you can see where my mind is at), and Hawks defeats Twice and is all “guess I’ve got no choice” and is seriously going to kill him (hahaha what the fuck), but then DABI FUCKING BURNS THE ENTIRE ROOM DOWN WITH EVERYONE IN IT WHILE LAUGHING AND THEN THE CHAPTER JUST ENDS. I feel like I just got slapped in the face.

so before we start, let me just mention that I got a ton of asks and messages about the whole “HERO SCUM” line, and I appreciate everyone keeping me up to date on the twists and turns of our wild little fandom lol. so as you all probably know, in Viz’s translation of the last page they had Dabi saying the line (“Twice, this isn’t your fault. as always... scummy heroes are to blame”). so naturally everyone was either like “whaaaaat!” or “I KNEW IT!!”, but then Caleb went and deleted his original tweet saying that it was Dabi, and replaced it with a new tweet, the gist of which was basically “I don’t fucking know either” and admitting he wasn’t an authority on the matter. so to sum everything up, we basically don’t know and will never know until the anime airs this in about three years’ time, or until the only man who can actually clear this up decides to stop drawing weird mushroom men for five goddamn minutes so he can clarify for us

anyway, so in the meantime it’s time to see who’s having angst this week! probably everybody! let’s just assume it’s everybody and save some time

ohooo so we finally get to see why they had Tamaki and Tokoyami in the vanguard, eh?

(ETA: gotta say, “you” is an awfully impersonal way to address someone whose entire body you are shortly going to stuff inside your little quirk papoose and tote around like a fanny pack.)

honestly this isn’t much of a mystery though lol. Tokoyami is obvious, and with Tamaki it’s probably because of his kraken thing if I had to guess

...excuse me sir is this leading where I think it’s leading

sir. Mister Gum, sir. please do not tell me you are actually about to lead these children into the building and down into the basement. first of all the thought of you and Tamaki in yet another basement is already giving me PTSD so no thanks. and second of all, ???!?!?!?!?! [gestures incredulously to the two children] ?!?!?!???? [emphatically taps my computer screen with the wiki page showing their respective ages] ???!?!?!?!?!?! [gestures wildly toward a picture of Gigantomachia I pulled up just now in a google search. yeah that’s right. Gigantomachia!! you all forgot about him didn’t you!! well guess who didn’t forget about him?? that’s right. so you’d better explain yourself right the fuck now, Fatgum. oh wait I’m still talking in action brackets whoops]

holy crap is Tokoyami giving orders lmao

well look at you. a general, huh? somebody must’ve told them about his little maneuver at the Battle of Taanab

so now some generic villain guys are all “HOW’D THEY FIND OUR SECRET PATH” and “WE MUST DEFEND IT” and I sure can’t wait to watch them get their asses kicked three panels from now

OH LORDY

EVERYONE TAMAKI HAS JUST TURNED INTO A HORSE. I IMMEDIATELY HAVE SEVERAL QUESTIONS, THE MOST PRESSING OF WHICH ARE (1) WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO HIS PANTS, AND (2) DOES THIS MEAN TAMAKI ATE A FUCKING HORSE. PLEASE STAY TUNED AS WE URGENTLY INVESTIGATE THESE NEW DEVELOPMENTS

lol and the cow horns too. why though. just completes the look I guess

loooooool he’s all “apologies, but please remain still” who are you, Tuxedo Mask??

LOOOOOOL

by the way, I almost skipped right past this, but the text says Tamaki will be a sidekick at the Fatgum agency starting “next year”, which presumably means “in a couple of weeks because the school year is about to end.” our boy is graduating! I’m so proud, and also really pissed off about Mirio all of a sudden, just throwing that out there. how much longer must his dreams be put on hold. where is the justice. man I need a minute

okay! anyway so now Tokoyami is just running into the basement alone!! hooooo boy. I know it’s dark down there and that’s presumably why they’re sending him of all people, but still. hooooooooo boy

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS NO WAY

IS TOKOYAMI GOING TO TAKE ON FUCKING RE-DESTRO AND IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING AND WHY THE FUCK IS NIGHT ON BALD MOUNTAIN SUDDENLY PLAYING

KDSFLK;L’LLL

AM I IN THE RIGHT MANGA. DID DARK SHADOW REALLY JUST GROW NINETY FEET TALL AND START WRESTLING THE SAME FUCKING GUY WHO ALMOST* BROUGHT DOWN THE ENTIRE LEAGUE OF FUCKING VILLAINS

*except he didn’t, let’s be real. didn’t even come close. but still, on paper the hype looks real good!!

AND DO RE-DESTRO’S ROBOT LEGS SOMEHOW FUCKING CHANGE SIZE ALONG WITH HIM. CHALK ANOTHER ONE UP FOR THE MYSTERY BASKET. PUT YOU RIGHT NEXT TO “BUT FOR REAL THOUGH DID TAMAKI ACTUALLY EAT A FUCKING HORSE”

OOOOOF

LOL DETNERAT’S MERCHANDISE REALLY IS TOTAL SHIT. CAN’T EVEN HANDLE A LITTLE CLASH WITH A GIGANTIC SHADOW DEMON

by the way, check out that one guy in the bottom right corner who just totally doesn’t give the least of fucks. he’s fresh out. he wants to know how much longer this is gonna last so he can go home and get back to playing the new Animal Crossing. did you know they added a new crafting feature. can’t believe he’s stuck here at this boring meeting. this man genuinely doesn’t seem to be at all aware of anything that is currently happening around him and it’s amazing. added to the box of questions

oh man. I don’t quite understand what is happening now but I keep expecting Gigantomachia to just pop up out of nowhere any second and I can’t fucking stand it. Horikoshi please stop showing us these close-ups of destroyed walls

OH GOD OH GOD!!!

(ETA: what a casual fucking line implying that Tokoyami genuinely believed that there was nobody in THE ENTIRE LEAGUE OF PLIFF who stood a chance against his latest super move. don’t mind him everyone, he’s just been lowkey biding his time to become the strongest member of class 1-A offscreen while his loser classmates were having dramatic family dinners. how many High Ends could Dark Shadow take out I wonder. why did I suddenly get a mental image of Toko losing an arm only to sigh and nonsensically quote Shakespeare or some shit before wrapping Dark Shadow around the stump and getting back to the asskicking.)

NO TOKO NOT THE ANGRY BALD MAN, HE’S TALKING ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE!! OH FUCK OH FUCK

LMAO

:) :) :) can we maybe get my solemn bird son out of this fucking DEATH BASEMENT right the fuck now. can we do that, please

holy shit!?

:) :) :) I can’t decide whether I trust these panels or not. why is he so confident. does this mean Machia really will be sitting out the arc, or is a trap. help

(ETA: I guess it’s okay for now. ... dammit I’m still suspicious sob.)

also, Tokoyami’s “?!” face is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen though. the fact that he’s physically incapable of altering his expressions no matter what is true comedy gold here

NEVER MIND, THOSE WERE THE WORDS OF A CALLOW YOUTH WHO KNEW NOTHING OF TRUE COMEDY GOLD

WHAT A FOOL I WAS. PLEASE PARDON MY IGNORANCE. SO HERE WE HAVE TOKOYAMI’S MONOEXPRESSION BIRD HEAD STICKING OUT OF FATGUM’S JOLLY BELLY FOR NO REASON, WHILE FATGUM IS ALL “DON’T YOU FEEL LIKE WE’RE KICKING TOO MUCH ASS AND SOMETHING TERRIBLE IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN”, AND SOME OTHER POOR GUY WITH SCISSORS HANDS IS JUST LYING THERE DEAD IN THE BACKGROUND. MY GOD. I’M IN AWE OF THIS

dfkjkjk oh noooo

“does this young man amuse you,” Horikoshi says as he darkly pencils in the disturbingly concave shadows of Fatgum’s ridiculous fucking quirk. “are his ‘magnificent fellow’ bird antics pleasing for you to watch. I guess it sure would be a shame if I gave him some... angst”

but for real y’all I genuinely can’t take this at all seriously when Tokoyami’s head is still stubbornly and persistently poking its way out of Fatgum like a goddamn baby kangaroo in every fucking panel

we are entering another Tokoyami+Hawks mentor flashback and this is still all I can think about. why is he even in there. why is any of this happening. Tokoyami really just flung Re-Destro into a wall and then climbed inside of Fatgum feet-first so they could run along to freedom. just fucking ensconced himself. do you think it’s cozy in there. do you think Aizawa would fall asleep

hey Toko please stop having ominous thoughts about my other bird son

have you ever heard of an announcer jinx. “now here’s a guy who the fans have loved since the moment he was first introduced. and if you look at the stats, fourth place in his first popularity poll, which was taken only ten chapters after his introduction. heck, he’s so popular they even went and gave him a role in the second movie even before he appeared in the anime! it’s undeniable that this young man has a bright future ahead of him, Al.” now you listen here. I don’t at all like where this is headed and it needs to stop right now

anyway so of course on that note we are cutting back to Hawks

so we’ve confirmed that Hawks has his hands full just melting all of the new clones as they come, and doesn’t have the speed or the excess feathers (or the conviction? :|) to go after the original and put a stop to all this

or you could just ignore everything I say ever because immediately on the next page Horikoshi is all “actually he’s winning lol”

anyway but it sure would be a shame if someone were to run in and set you on fire right about now. that probably sounds sarcastic but it actually would be really bad lol please don’t set Hawks on fire

(ETA: motherfucker. goddamn. fucking --)

and now Hawks is making clones of his fellow League buddies oh shit!! but right when I was about to scroll down I noticed that Hawks is carrying some sort of recording device?? or communications device?? in his hand very conspicuously in that last panel? and so what is going on here, exactly?

oh shit and never mind about those LoV clones

that’s all well and good Hawks, but I need you to please just be very cautious and aware and proactive about not catching on fire okay. watch your six

oh my god oh my god

“now here’s a guy whose rise in popularity was unexpected but just a real pleasure to watch. he just really cares about his friends.” “you said it; he really came into his own a couple arcs back. twenty-third in the most recent poll, and the fans all love him.” fffffff Hawks isn’t a killer Hawks isn’t a killer, I can’t hear you lalala

LA LA LA

maybe... he’ll just... punch a small hole through one of his lungs... ...

...

or... a large hole... ... ,,,

oh THANK GOD he’s jumping on top of him. so clearly he’s fine because Shounen Rules. that’s right, this is a manga where Toga survived blowing up from the inside out and Jeanist survived being murdered and stuffed into a tote bag. (right??) why am I so tense I hate this!!

HEY WHAT IS THIS

or you could just KNOCK HIM OUT??? ?????!??! did they not teach you that in peewee assassin league?! Hawks

I DON’T LIKE THIS I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS!!

STOP SHOWING US TWICE’S SAD THOUGHTS YOU BASTARD NO I DON’T LIKE THIS YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE ME CRY SO STOP!!

GODDAMMIT HORIKOSHI I FUCKING HATE YOU

“HERE’S A SERIES OF PANELS WITH TWICE CRYING AND THINKING ABOUT TOGA WHILE HAWKS HOLDS A FUCKING KNIFE RIGHT ABOVE HIS EYE,” HORIKOSHI SAYS WHILE IGNORING EVERYTHING I SAY AND DISABLING ALL COMMENTS ON HIS TWITTER, PROBABLY. WOW I JUST LOOKED IT UP AND APPARENTLY YOU CAN’T DO THAT? DAMN, TWITTER REALLY SUCKS, BUT ANYWAY

FINE THEN DABI YOU CAN SET HIM ON FIRE!!

JOKE’S ON YOU ASSHOLES, YOU CAN’T HURT ME IF I CAN’T SEE THE LAST PAGE OF THE CHAPTER THROUGH ALL MY TEARS

FUCK

[SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] THE FUCK WAS THAT

DON’T YOU EVEN DARE, HORIKOSHI. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANY “BUT YOU GAVE HIM PERMISSION”, COME THE FUCK ON, YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT DIDN’T MEAN SHIT AND I WAS LIABLE TO CHANGE MY MIND YET AGAIN ONLY A PAGE LATER AS PER USUAL! WHAT SORT OF TWISTED MIND WOULD DECIDE THAT THE ONLY WAY TO SAVE TWICE WAS TO SET THE ENTIRE ROOM ABLAZE AND THEN HAVE DABI GLEEFULLY STOMP ON HAWKS’S FACE. WHAT KIND OF SICK MONSTER WOULD DREAM THIS UP. THIS ISN’T HOT AT ALL. HOW DARE YOU

ALSO WTF DABI, “HERE I COME TO RESCUE TWICE” WHILE BURNING HIM ALIVE AS WELL, JESUS CHRIST THESE FUCKING TODOROKIS I SWEAR TO GOD. DID YOUR BRAIN CELLS CATCH FIRE TOO

I CAN’T BELIEVE I WAITED ALL WEEK IN A FUCKING LOCKDOWN FOR THIS SHIT. THIS CHAPTER WAS A FUCKING TRAIN WRECK, AND I DON’T KNOW IF I WANT TO THANK ITS STUPID CONDUCTOR, OR PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE. it’s not the manga we need, but it’s the one we deserve. I guess

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