𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑫 𝑨𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 ➣ Dabi

show me yours

WARNING: This next part deals a little with self-harm. If that is triggering then please skip. I am in no way an advocate for self-harm, nor do I romanticize it. Dabi is a huge comfort character of mine and this scene brings me peace so I wanted to share. If you are struggling, please, please, seek help. I know it's hard. I've been through it. If you ever, EVER, need someone to talk to, I am here. My messages are open and I am more than willing to listen if you need to rant or vent. Just know how amazing your unique personality is. I used to think it was impossible to love all your readers but I love seeing you guys read my stories and I want you to know how amazing and how good enough you are. I love you all so very much! <3 Enjoy reading! I thought it would be nice to have a quick comfort break before I bring in some more angst :)

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You gasp, trying to pull away from the burning kiss Dabi leaves along your neck, your collarbone, your lips. You're not ready for him to see you fully naked yet. You have scars that you don't want him to see. Stretch marks that you don't want him to know exist. But he's on top of you, demanding for more, wanting to feel every inch of you. And though it's intoxicating, and though you love it, you don't want to take that step just yet. It's too soon. Way too soon.

"Dabi," you gasp.

He groans. "Shut up," he growls, his hand burning you softly as it slides up under your shirt.

"Dabi wait," you say as you grip his shoulders, trying to shove him off of you. Fear creeps along your skin till it towers behind you, yelling in your face.

"He's going to laugh," Fear gasps. "You have to get him off you."

Tears spring in your eyes, making you choke on a sob, your body involuntarily shaking. "Dabi, please," you gasp. "Stop it."

"Why?" he asks, confused from your actions. You've never refused a kiss from him before. "Why can't I just fucking kiss you?" Though his words sound harsh, his tone as softened, and he looks at you with worrisome eyes. It's amazing how soft he can be sometimes. Especially when his softness is aimed towards you. 

You squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him as you touch a finger to your lips, begging those sobs to be quiet, to stop. Why can't you just let him kiss you? Why do you have to be so scared? Is it because people stare at the stupid scar on your face? Is it because if they were to see the marks on your body, they'd call you weak? Would they laugh? Is that why you're so afraid? Because of what others think?

"They aren't your friends. They're villains," Fear seethes, spitting in your face.

"Then we are too." Anger. When did anger get here?

"He'll be disgusted. He'll run. He'll flee. You have to stop him," Fear screams.

You shake your head. "Shut up," you whisper, trying to scramble away from Dabi.

"Y/n? Mouse, what's going on? Hey," he calls, trying to pin you down without much force. 

You shake your head and look him in the eyes. "Please. I don't want you to see me."

He frowns, his heart somehow losing a piece in his eyes. "Y/n," he murmurs softly. His eyes scan your body, watching those small tears drip down your cheeks, landing on the yoga mat beneath you. "Why not?"

You hiccup, tugging away from him but his grip is strong and he presses his body weight on you further to keep you stuck in his hold, his eyes boring holes into your soul. He watches your lips tremble, struggling to form the right words, struggling to say what he wants to hear. But he's patient. Oh he's so patient with you.