Daydreaming About Husband! Dabi, Who Tries His Best To Gift You The Christmas Of Your Dreams.

daydreaming about husband! dabi, who tries his best to gift you the christmas of your dreams.

gn! reader, husband! dabi, ex-villain! dabi, fluff, romance, christmas, wedding rings, semi-angst (if you squint), dabi is: trying

1.4k (unedited)

a/n ~ it’s midnight in the uk; merry christmas everyone! ♡ wishing you all a v happy holiday ♡

reblogs are appreciated ~

it’s mid-winter, and ever since the celebration of your marriage—just a mere six months ago—this is the first of what you hope to be many christmases together, but when you voice your excitement in the form of a giddy little laugh as you gush something about decorating the christmas tree, dabi doesn’t entirely get it.

it’s no secret that his adolescent years weren’t exactly picture-perfect, but still, he has some memory of the busyness of the kitchen as his mother had stressed over baking dozens upon dozens of mince pies (the traditional kind, as a then-youngster natsuo had gone through a phase of refusing to eat anything that wasn’t meat-based). but, spending majority of his adult life as a villain means that it’s been many years since he’s been privy to the hustle and bustle of preparing for the holidays, along with the mad dash of last minute preparations, because, believe it or not, villains are usually a tad too busy to be thinking about christmas presents. and even though your million-watt smile is enough to brighten the gentle twinkle in his eye when he catches you peeking at him whilst busying yourself baking those very same mince pies that his mother had made all those years ago, he suspects that your enthusiasm is slightly played upon, all for his sake.

but, despite the fact that he’s evidently not as excited as you are—because, really, he doesn’t need the presents that you keep stuffing underneath the abstractedly-decorated tree—he still goes out of his way to buy you a gift of your own.

and it’s carnage.

he hasn’t a clue what he’s looking for, second-guessing each time he spots something that he suspects that you may like, and after a particularly dreadful venture into the local bookstore, he has no choice but to leave when he becomes dangerously close to setting the place on fire. the trials and errors of gift shopping seem to serve only to frustrate him further, because despite the fact that you now bare his surname, he soon realises that, actually, there’s a lot that he doesn’t know about you.

he doesn’t know your favourite foods, mainly because he’s never been a particularly fussy eater himself, so he doesn’t have a favourite of his own. that, and as far as he’s noticed, you don’t harbour any strange eating habits, so he’s never bothered to ask if there’s anything that you don’t enjoy. the same goes with drink; he’s never been a heavy drinker, but when the two you do indulge, you’ve always been more than happy to share whatever liquor he’s chosen for the night. there’s a horrifyingly quiet moment when he dares to ponder if you’d simply done so just to please him, and that leaves a sour taste on his tongue.

clothes are also a no-go. he’s only ever been interested in removing yours, and usually, it is you who is in charge of updating even his own wardrobe whenever the seasons change. he’s also loathe to admit that he doesn’t actually know your dress size, pausing upon the realisation in the middle of a clothing store—that looks far too obnoxious for both your tastes (and his own)—so abruptly that some poor lady almost chins him as she’s force to come to a sudden halt in the middle of the aisle. he pointedly ignores the well aimed glare that is shot toward him, which only intensifies when she appears to recognise just who he is. only, that pretty little glare of hers morphs into an expression of unabashed horror when he sneers down at her with a wicked flash of his teeth, and there’s a pang of triumph that gnaws at his chest when she scurries away as fast as her ridiculously thin heels will allow her. eventually, he makes the mistake of asking toga, and she’s just as useless as he is—some frills or lace should do, no? she’d cackled down the phone, and he’d promptly terminated the call—and all too soon, he’s reached the point of which he’s ready to give up.

only, as he’s making his way home—and most definitely not sulking—from his peripheral vision, he spots just the very place that should’ve been an obvious first choice from the beginning of this disaster of a trip.

a jewellers.

at the time of your marriage, his finances hadn’t exactly been anything to brag about, so the idea of wedding rings had been forfeited in favour of paying for a decent service instead. he may not have been able to afford to put a ring on your finger, but he made damn well sure that you got the wedding of your dreams.

and now, as he ducks into the entranceway, listening to the tittering tinkle of the bell that sings the announcement of his arrival, he decides that he’s going to give you the christmas of your dreams, too.

and, despite the fact that, initially, he didn’t understand the appeal of the joyous holiday, less that twelve hours have passed and he’s smothering the urge to grimace upon the recognisable sensation of his stomach twisting with nerves. you’re already grinning so wide that the apples of your cheeks are rounded with the efforts of your giddiness, and you trace your fingertips over the shoddily wrapped box that he’d almost thrown across the room when he just couldn’t make his gift-wrapping look as pretty as yours. it looks a mess—there’s far too much cello-tape, and the paper has crinkled and faded after being folded and unfolded several times during the ordeal.

still, you’re happy, and dabi is awed, once again, at the sheer loveliness of your smile.

with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, you tug your way through the unforgiving amount of paper that definitely wasn’t needed, and from where he lazes against his favourite cushion, long legs splayed across the length of the settee, dabi watches, keenly, as you reveal the very gift that he’d chosen all by himself.

there are already tears pooling into the corners of your eyes as you pop open the lid, and he hears the hitch of your breath. ‘y-you—’ you’re swallowing, thickly, unshed tears teetering upon the tips of your lashes, but when you manage to tear your gaze toward him, it is dabi who has to pretend that he doesn’t feel a tad nauseous because of the nerves that are chewing at his insides. ‘dabi,’ you breathe, ‘touya—i—’

‘couldn’t get you one ‘fore,’ he mumbles, the tips of his ears hot. ‘wanted to put a ring on you, make your finger look real pretty.’

and then, whatever he thought he may have said next is punched from straight out of his lungs when you literally launch yourself into his lap, arms curling tight around his waist. it’s instinct; easy now, the way that he returns your embrace, when once, there was a time when the mere thought of touching another would’ve repulsed him. he’s come a long way, he knows this, and in you, he’s found a home of which he belongs. welcoming the scent of you into the expanse of his lungs, he inhales, deeply, nuzzling the tip of his nose into the warmth of the pulse at your throat.

after, with another coy tug of the corner of your mouth, your voice is as sweet as honey when you ask him to place it on you.

your mouth moulds to the shape of his, all sweet tongues and the occasional bump of teeth, and the taste of salt sits on the flat of his tongue as it swipes over your bottom lip, again and again, and again. there’s a coil in his gut that’s building with each press of your lips, and after, with another coy tug of the corner of your mouth, your voice is honeyed when you ask him to place the ring upon your finger.

there’s a pause, a quiet one as the band is gently smoothed over the bump of your left knuckle.

and there, sits the very embodiment of dabi’s adoration for you.

his thumb strokes over the polished stone that aligns with the month of your birth, and though he’s not very good with his words, for what it’s worth, dabi silently sends thanks to whichever entity is responsible for your existence. your smile is large enough to match the glimmer of warmth that softens the corners of his own lips, and the sight of your unabashed joy is well worth every effort it took to buy it in the first place.

he’d once promised you the wedding of your dreams, and he’d also promised to gift you the christmas of your dreams, too.

and though the extent of his past sins may mean that he’s not naive enough to believe that he deserves this, this life, this marriage—because, truly, he knows that he doesn’t deserve you—in each lifetime, he’d do it all over again.

for you.

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

Hoshiumi knows he’s not meant for a run-through-the-airport kind of love.

That dramatic energy that compels someone to chase someone else just to deliver a confession. He’s watched his classmates and teammates fall in and out of relationships as they’ve inspired different kinds of affections, different dramatic scenes.

He accepted that he’d never really elicit that kind of reaction from anyone and made peace with it as he made peace with his height.

After all, he could still dominate on the volleyball court. That’s where the dramatic moments centered around him were meant to occur.

The first gift Hoshiumi ever gave you was a blank notebook.

He noticed how you would doodle in any blank margin or on any scrap and thought you deserved a proper place to draw.

Though you always had it with you he never saw you use it. Just like accepting so many other things as fact, he assumed you were just being nice by carrying it around

until he caught a glimpse inside. The pages were covered in detailed drawings. It felt like winning a tournament and he was so giddy about it that his teammates, who thought they were used to his boisterous behavior, had to ask him to calm down.

So he gave you another one on your next birthday.

And the one after that.

Catching glimpses of sketches and drawings in the months after, proof that you did use them.

He misses your next birthday because of an away game but stops by to give you a gift when he gets back. To your relief and delight, it’s another notebook.

“Thank you.“ You beam and clutch it to your chest. “I’m so glad…I was worried you thought I didn’t like them.”

“Why?” he asks, face screwing up in confusion.

“Oh,” you grimace in embarrassment and explain “because you never asked to see what I did with them.”

He gulps, suddenly nervous. “…C-Can I?”

You offer them to him with shining eyes and he looks through, gently flipping page after page of beautiful designs and sketches and drawings and there’s figure studies of

him.

There are drawings of him.

Hoshiumi knows he’s not a run-through-the-airport kind of love. But as you confess your feelings for him, your admiration for his dramatic presence on the court,

he realizes he’s meant for something better.

catching his crush staring at him

type: preference

pronouns: you/your/yourself

characters: midoriya, kaminari, shinsou

a/n: hello! once again you may remember this post because i have already posted it in the past before my account got deleted! but i am back and i am reposting a bunch of old posts. please enjoy and an interaction with this post would be greatly appreciated.

reminder that requests are open on this blog because i have an empty inbox. and if you like demon slayer, check out my side-blog @katwatcheskny where requests are also open.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

Izuku is studying away, focused on what Aizawa is talking about during the lesson when he can suddenly feel someone’s eyes on him.

Instantly scared as he turns to see who it is when he notices you.

You’re looking at him sheepishly while holding your textbook close to your face with a cute little smile on your face and now he doesn’t remember how to breathe as his face lights up like a Christmas tree. 

He tries to look away abashed, while Izuku starts mumbling to himself about how his crush actually looked at him. Maybe, you did know about his existence. Or was there something wrong with his hair?

“Midoriya-” Aizawa calls with his stern voice.

“UGH! 1847!” He yells out, his face is still a visible shade of red and he’s sweating as turning to face the board and holds up his book.

“That’s… correct, but why are you holding your textbook upside down?”

DENKI KAMINARI

Denki is almost always spacing out during class, playing around with his pencil in his hand and trying to entertain himself while someone talks about math, or history, or-

That’s when he notices someone’s looking at him. Turns around, he sees you’re looking over at him with a tiny grin in the corner of your mouth.

His whole body goes stiff and he’s got the goofiest grin on his face.

He wants to seem cool but he cannot believe you’re staring at him. Maybe it’s because you like him too? So he’s gotta act cool about it even though he’s shaking with pure excitement from the attention.

Denki will try to wink at you, be a little flirty, but will probably just end up looking like a fly flew into his eyes and it hurts.

You laugh at his attempts at flirting.

Watching you laugh adorably like that actually fries his brain.

HITOSHI SHINSOU

He’s very perceptive, so he quickly notices someone is looking at him.

Hitoshi is relieved that you’re the one staring at him, trying to be sneaky as you keep gazing at him from across the classroom.

Be prepared for a staring match.

He hasn’t blinked in a week and now he has his eyes on the prize. This bitch is HOT-APEing you, so he’s making an almost intense amount of eye contact, maybe that will make you fall in love with him too.

Now you’re blushing because you thought you could be slick by staring at him with those dreamy eyes, but now you’ve got those purple eyes staring into your very soul with an indiscernible expression. 

He smiles at your blushing face before turning away and resting his head on his hand. On the inside his mind is racing about how you noticed him.

hiiii! ♡♡ i hope ur doing well (≧◡≦) ( i have a request if it's okay. may i have headcanons with hawks and a civilian reader who is veryyyyy affectionate? like, the reader loves hugging him, planting kisses on his cheeks and forehead, calling hawks with "sweetheart, darling, my pretty bird", asking about his day, stuff like that. uhm, actually i just want to see hawks showered in love like he deserves heheh (≧◡≦) ♡ thank youuuu!! ♡♡♡♡

a/n: I love wholesome requests like this!! 😭

Hawks with a very affectionate s/o

This dude is READY to race home when he’s done with work, he loves the affection you give him when he arrives home to you. Once he walks through the door you’re already there kissing his cheeks and asking him how his day was, he could literally just melt into your touch right now if he could. He doesn’t even want dinner he just wants to cuddle with you, he likes laying his head down on your chest as you gently brush his hair. If you touch his wings he will literally just sigh happily into your chest, some of his feathers puffing up at your affection.

Absolutely loves the names you call him, especially when you call him your pretty bird while planting kisses on his forehead. Brags about it to endeavor like “yeah my s/o calls me their pretty bird and they don’t ever lie” you BOOST this man’s ego, also brags about having a super affectionate s/o to any pro-hero. Yeah his fans will say that he’s amazing and etc, but it is way more meaningful when you say it to him. Every word you say to him and moment you two spend together he holds them very dearly, even while fighting against a villain he’ll always remember what you said to him. So if any villain wanted to hurl insults to him he can quickly block it out and remember what you said to him beforehand, that’s why whenever news reporters ask him what his motivation is he’ll tell them it’s someone who gives him encouragement (aka you)

Whenever Hawks is around you he feels like he can finally let his guard down, he’s dealing with a lot at the moment. So when he comes back home to you he feels like he doesn’t need to be Hawks the second ranked hero, he can just be Keigo. He can just go long hours cuddling into your chest and listening to your heartbeat, it almost soothes him to sleep as well.

Congrats on 500 ♥

For the event: I think about Mammon who is very horny, but feels guilty about it because MC looks too innocent. Some kind of hurt/comfort? Then it turns out that MC is pretty horny too ~

Mammon really struggled to stop himself sometimes. At least when it came to his urges, whether it was his greed or something else. Throughout knowing you, he’d always find himself feeling so strongly for you, the urge to touch you and make you his, but he knew he must wait for you to let him. So he’d take to touching himself, rubbing out one every chance he could.

It wasn’t until you two were together that he finally felt comfy with expressing himself around you but there was one thing that he could never tell you. His thumb would hover over send each time he wanted to send you something dirty but he would always delete the message. When you were nuzzling into him mid-cuddle and your bottom would brush against him, he’d tell himself not to say anything and wait.

After all, humans like you were so innocent! He remembers back when he last went to the human world, sex was so taboo! It was all missionary and in the dark under the blankets. Sure, he knows things have changed, he’s watched plenty of human movies, and listens to human music… but that’s not you. Everybody is different right? He’d be… defiling you, almost. Plus, no human can compare to a demon’s horniness!

You, on the other hand, thought completely different from him. Society is changing and so is the view on sex, so is the view on how much sex and how kinky the sex is. You wanted him, really, really bad. It was so hard to tell him, especially since each time you’d get ready to make a move, he’d shy away and avoid it. Did he not find you sexually appealing? You definitely found him sexy! You wanted to ask him outright what the issue was, but what if he just confirmed your assumption?

You’d brush your bottom against his crotch, waiting for a response, just for him to reposition and not respond. You’d start a conversation around sex and he’d be quiet or completely miss the point. It had gotten to the point that you were just desperate. And now that you’re situated on top of him, tongue in his mouth feeling him up and down, you know exactly what he’s going to do.

“Mammon, I want you.” You huffed as your mouths separated.

“Mm.” He continued to kiss you, his only response a grunt.

You pushed him away. “Do you want me?” You looked at him, his eyes wide and flitting away.

“Yeah.” His response was quiet.

You felt your stomach sink and you looked down trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. He looked back at you and saw the change in demeanor.

“What’s wrong?” You looked away from him, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. His heart was beating like crazy. “Mc?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.” Rushing the words out as fast as possible. “It’s okay, I just need to get up.” You left his lap and rushed to your room, leaving Mammon alone on his couch. He watched you leave, wondering if he should follow you.

You settled in your room and sat with your back against the door, holding your knees against your chest. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or not, to let all the emotions fly. Your phone dinged.

Mammon: did I do something? Whatever I did I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you please Mc.

You looked at the message and tried to think of what to say.

Mammon: I’m really sorry.

Mammon: can ya say something?

You tentatively moved your thumbs over your screen.

Mc: am I not attractive to you?

Mammon really couldn’t believe his eyes when he received the message. Are you kidding?

Mammon: ain’t no way that’s the problem. You’re more than beautiful. Might as well take Asmo’s place as the prettiest in the Devildom.

You felt flattered but that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

Mc: why do we only ever just make out?

Mammon: wdym?

Mc: I want to know why don’t you touch me or you know

Mammon’s heart skipped a beat, he stood up from the couch and started to walk your way, still texting.

Mammon: I do want to touch you. But I never think you do.

You felt your lip quiver.

Mc: I always want you.

Mammon knocked on your door. “Can I come in?” You stood up in front of the door hesitated before letting him in. He came face to face with you, little tears coating your face complemented by your puffy eyes and strained face. “Mc, I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” You wrapped your arms around him, both so he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes and to also get that comfort you desired.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t ever feel unwanted. Or undesirable or whatever.” He kissed your neck, not in a sexual way but in an ‘I love you’ way. “I’m obsessed with ya, in every way. Yer friggin’ perfect.”

You continued to hold him, not wanting to pull away. You tried to calm your emotions and let the tears remain in so you could talk to him.

He could tell you were trying to calm down. “I’m sorry I never do anything. I always think that—that you—well, I dunno how to explain.” He was struggling to find a way to explain your assumed innocence. “You seem so innocent. So humanly.” He settled on that. You found yourself confused by his words.

Humans! Innocent!!??? Does he know anything about humanity?

You actually laughed a little, confusing him. “Why’re ya laughin’?”

“Humans are so not innocent.” You couldn’t help back let go to get a look at his face, which was was just the way you expected it. Dumbfounded. “Jeez, you demons and your assumptions about humans. I don’t know a single innocent human. Do you just think we are a bunch of Lukes running around?” You were now really laughing especially with his newfound face. He looked almost like a… fish?

“No! I just… okay.” He sighed and breathed in sharply. “Let me just get it out. I didn’t think you were as horny as me. I still don’t. Demons and temptation, ya know.”

“Mammon, that makes no sense. The average human has a sexual thought every few minutes or seconds or something like that. We literally have 100 year lifespans we sorta are inclined to always think about sex. And you demons, millennia long lifespans. You don’t have to have babies 24/7.” You weren’t crying at all anymore and now Mammon was absolutely in shock.

“Every few seconds!!! No way!! Uh uh.”

“Let’s look it up.”

Mammon shuffled through his ddd and then plastered his phone in your face. “Told ya. It’s 19 times a day.”

“Uh, Mammon, it ranges from like 19 to 388.”

“Only in men!”

“Well I probably think about sex with you about 388 times a day.”

“Pssh. Then I’m probably in the thousands.”

“No, Mammon you don’t think enough for that.”

He wanted to say something but he ended up just looking at you. You could tell all that tension from earlier was already making a return at least for him.

“You okay, now?” You nodded. “Let’s go back to my room.” You nodded again and took his hand. When you got to his room, he got red and stopped in his tracks. “You wanna have sex now?”

“Mammon, didn’t we just talk about this? If you reject me now, I’m never looking at you again.”

He grinned and licked his lips, pulling you into his room by the waist. “Clearly, we have no choice!”

Note: this is canon. Change my mind.

how abt mammon and MC who gets super clingy/needy during PMS/their period?

Mammon was burning alive under your warmth, plus your heated blanket, plus the fact it’s the middle of winter and the heat is on blast. But it was worth it since you were finally resting after a long day of bathroom trips, overwhelming emotions, and just… stress. Just stress.

You were clinging onto him, clenching your eyes shut, trying to nap while your stomach was in knots. You pressed the heat into your stomach and pursed your lips, Mammon saw your expression and stroked your hair.

“It’s okay, I gotcha.” He kissed your head.

“I love you.” You told him. “I really really really love you.” You rubbed your face against him almost like how a cat would. He was red, either from the heat or your claims.

“Love ya too.” He said softly, heart warming as your smile stretched across your face. “Whatcha makin’ that face for?” He teased you, hoping he didn’t step too far.

“Because I love you.”

Man, if you weren’t as cute as a button right now. He hates seeing you in pain, but your face was absolutely adorable how you nuzzled into him. “Ya gonna just answer all my questions with that?”

“I love you.” Was your answer, albeit, confirming his suspicions. You went from laying on your side with your hand and face on his chest to just plopping on top of him. He can’t believe that he wishes for a fan now in arctic like weather. He rubbed your back, slipping his hands underneath your top. You let out a little noise, approving of his actions. “Your hands are cold, it’s nice.”

“I dunno how they’re cold, but if you like it.” He reminded himself that the furnace (you) on top of him was his partner, someone he loves dearly, and for you to be this clingy, you must truly be suffering.

Mammon could barely feel your heartbeat syncing with his. He had turned off his tv and every other sound so you could nap and he could only hear your breathing and his. He could feel how you wiggled your feet, moving the blanket around and he could also tell when you were bracing for another cramp, your body tensing up. Mammon felt as though he was fully in tune with you and that nothing else was there. Just you and him.

He remembered when he got up this morning and went to go get water and then returned to find you looking distraught. You were embarrassed to tell him that you were sad that he left but he was even more humiliated when he found out that you upset about that. Also, yesterday, when you were in class and decided to text him every 2 minutes, begging for his attention. Mammon, of course, indulged, how could he not? Or last night, when you kissed him and wouldn’t stop even after he, yes the avatar of greed, was exhausted. He was somewhat familiar with the menstrual cycle, but he wasn’t surrounded by demons with uteruses all the time let alone humans, so you really educated him fast.

Now, he had you down to a T. All that mattered was that you needed to be on him 24/7 and that you needed comfort. He was so used to being material and to buy you everything you wanted, to get you every bit of chocolate or every French fry or every pair of fuzzy socks you wanted. You loved that but you loved him more. Truth be told, nothing made him happier to know that he was your primary comfort. He was what you needed.

He looked down at you, angling his neck awkwardly to peek at your eyes. You were asleep, finally. He smiled to himself and kissed your head, still tracing his hands up and down your back. “Love ya, treasure.” His voice was lower than a whisper, only for him to hear. “I love ya so much.”

Note: this is literally me. This ask is me.