Feathers and Flame // Dabi x Reader x Hawks

5: Would You Beg?

By the time you made it home, it was after midnight. Your conversation with Hawks had sent you on edge, and the extra shot of tequila you took on your way back from the club did little to purge the memory of his fingers trailing your body — and the promise in his eyes that he would continue.

It was all an act, of course. He was playing, just like you were with him. Yet he was so good at it. So... infuriating you wanted to seduce him, mind and body, and leave him wanting while you knew he was putty in your hands.

What is it with these men?

Between Hawks and Dabi, you had your work cut out for you. It didn't help how you were feeling that you were still so frustrated over how Dabi had acted with you. The sheer entitlement and arrogance of him. And now Hawks was toying with you. It was all too much.

You sighed as you closed your apartment door behind you, leaning against the cool wood, still buzzed from the alcohol and too focused on the way everything felt against your skin. You needed to get out of these clothes and forget—

"What has you all hot and bothered?"

You almost leapt out of your skin. "Dabi."

In your frustration, you hadn't bothered to do so much as look forward. If you had, you would have seen Dabi lounging on your sofa. "What are you doing here? Scratch that, how do you know where I live?"

Dabi smirked, more infuriating than ever before. He was sprawled out on your couch, his long coat discarded on the nearby armchair. The white t-shirt he wore clung to him, riding up slightly between his low, black trousers, giving you a more than ample view of the muscled 'V' disappearing beneath his waistband. You averted your eyes, though he definitely caught you looking. "You're not the only one who can follow someone — and I told you I'd come check on you."

He stood up then, striding towards you with enough purpose to send your body rigid. He stopped short of you, his cerulean gaze travelling down the length of you, taking in each detail with little regard for keeping his intentions hidden. He lingered on your long, bare legs, a smirk coiling on his lips. "You never answered me. What has you so... frustrated?"

Your cheeks flushed red at the heat of his gaze, the alcohol in your system betraying you. "Nothing."

"If you're not going to tell me," Dabi said, "then where have you been all night?"

You sighed. "A club for pro-heroes and elites. I was doing as you asked — watching Hawks."

You wanted to step past him, put a bit of distance between you, but you couldn't find the strength to do so. Not with your legs like jelly.

"Is that what has you all flushed, then?" Dabi asked, eyes alight. "Hawks?"

If only it was that simple.

"Why?" You flashed him a saccharine smile. "Would you be jealous if it was?"

Perhaps challenging him wasn't the best idea when he was standing in your living room, and you'd had a bit to drink, but you couldn't help yourself.

Dabi took a step forward, forcing you to press yourself back against the door. His hands were pressed against the painted wood either side of your shoulders, and he was so close you could almost taste him. "If you were going to get all dressed up, I'd rather it be for me."

Your heart felt like a firing machine gun inside your chest. He was too close and you were too frustrated to not become putty in his scarred hands.

"You know," Dabi said as you inhaled a stabilising breath through your nose. He lifted a hand, trailing his index finger along the side of your red-hot cheek, down beneath your jaw, to the base of your neck where your collarbone began to protrude. "I rather like how you look all flushed and frustrated."