#take a guess

LIVE

where’s my gold star for being an anal slut

#i earned it #it’s not easy being this way ajdhskdhsj #guess which one it is right now #take a guess #hnnnnnnghsjdhskdh #and i’m still trying not to be shy about it #it’s not working

@subtlebunny

Tue, 17 May 2022 18:19:51

Request:how would dabi and/or hawks act towards a reader who is a bit hesitant during sex and wants to have sex in the dark, or not take all the clothes off, hides from him, etc.?

A/N:I feel like Hawks may feel like a bit ooc seeing how I have my own analysis of him, so yeah, take it how you will!!

Dabi:

At first Dabi just thinks that you aren’t in the mood to do much, so he lays off. He gives you the space you need and tests the waters by lying in your bed seeing if you’d tell him to leave. Instead, you curl right next to him with your hand holding tightly onto his. He isn’t sure how to respond to that, and just lies beside you, his eyes stuck on the ceiling and breath held as you cling to him. You want him there, and he can rest knowing that knowing that it isn’t him, but maybe some other reason that you’re nervous or not in the mood despite how you kissed him. The pink of his tongue flashes out at the memory, swiping at the dip of his cupid’s bow. It’s better not to think about it for now; not when you’re beside him.
You’ve started to wear just the right amount where you don’t have to show much, but it’s enough to where he can fool around with you. He doesn’t complain because you look nice and during the frenzy of it, the rushing heat and need to be close to you, time is wasted on removing clothes. And then it starts to become a habit, where he tries to remove your shirt and you lay on your stomach, begging for him to hurry and he obliges, kissing the hollow part of your neck where your pulses quickens under his touch. It’s only after that he realizes he hadn’t gotten a chance to see you bare. It doesn’t take much to figure out that you might be a bit shy of your body- or uncomfortable with it- something that he might not be able to put into words to describe your feelings, but enough to understand.
He understands it- that being whatever it is that you’re feeling. Maybe not in the way that you feel, but he can understand the basics of it. He isn’t insecure about his body- at least not in a way that he wants to hide himself from the world- or at the very least from you. He’s aware of his burns, skin and burns stapled to him, but his physical appearance is the least of his concerns when he has more pressing matters. And while a part of him misses when he was young, when he was still unblemished and not filled with this inky darkness that drowns him, he’s moved on from that old sense of longing that plagued him. What you feel and what he feels, are two different things, but he can still understand. He isn’t sure what you want to hear, or what you need to hear. He never really figured out what it is that he told himself.
Since he doesn’t know what to say, he won’t try to comfort you. It’s more in a sense that he doesn’t know what to say, how to make you feel better without feeling as if every word is being forced out and it is genuine but to him, it sounds like some lie. He does try, but it’s nervy and rough, words that fall flat and he can only soothe his mistake by kissing you and pulling close, trying to hold onto your body and kiss at what you allow him to. It’s like this weird, jittery feeling that he’s filled with, something primal that makes him want to touch you and being unable to, makes him fester, blood hot and hands trying to hold what he can, leaving the crescents of his nails indented in your skin. He wants to make you feel good and know that you should feel good, but it comes off like some sad attempt of body positivity that leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
It takes time. He tries to follow your pace, but even so, he wants to touch you. He wants to feel the softness of your skin, he needs to feel the soft rise of your belly, to see the pale lines of your stretch marks wrap around your thighs. Dabi doesn’t want to rush you, so whatever you want- hiding under the covers, doing it in the dark, he’ll nod and won’t question it. He wants to see you, but he’d rather not push you away from him. When you do decide to show skin, he doesn’t say a word- he swallows and there’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. His hands trace over your body, finding each curve without the layer of cloth that separates his hands from you. Acting as if it’s the first and only time he’d ever see you so, he commits everything to memory- trying to kiss every freckle, trace his fingers over your stretch marks, feel the curve and dip from your belly and navel.

Takami Keigo:

The last thing that Keigo ever wants to do in his relationship with you, is rush you into something that you aren’t comfortable with. It leaves the relationship slow, an almost uncomfortable pace, because it leaves all the power to you. When sex does come up, and you’d rather have the lights off, he’s agreeing to it without much questioning. Whatever you want, is done at your own pace. However, once the relationship progresses to a point where you and him are comfortable enough to ask for what you both want, he does start to find it odd with how shy you are. He calls it up to you being insecure about- something, something he isn’t sure about.
He knows that you’re insecure about something, but he isn’t sure how to go about it. Maybe you aren’t insecure, but rather just shy about the act of intimacy about something. He doesn’t let himself get all too worried about; letting you come to him at your own pace. Of course, he wants to see you and touch you in a way that is intimate, but he doesn’t want to force you to do it, so he waits, and takes what he can get. If you’d rather have the lights off or wear something with easy access to you, then he’ll bury the questions and pleading to see more of you and simply do what he can to make you feel good. He’s supposed to be the cool, collected superhero, and that’s what he’ll be to you, nodding his head and going along with what you want, because he doesn’t want to drive you away.
Every attempt of his to actually talk to you about yourself and your habit, always ends in an awkward smile. He doesn’t know what to say. He is aware of who he is- how much he is lusted after, how his mutation works for him, how admired he is solely for who he is. He can’t understand your insecurity, at least not in the way that it won’t sound so false and reminiscent of a time when he was younger. He tries to uplift you, calling you pretty and holding you at every chance he gets, rubbing his nose along the crook of your neck or pecking at your shoulder. He wants to make you feel good- he doesn’t know what it is that you don’t want him to see, and it irks him in a way that makes him anxious. He’s stuck thinking about you and every chance to talk about it with you leaves the both of you sitting far away from each other, feelings being unable to be expressed in words. His feathers are tense, a few hidden ones twisting upon themselves in unease and longing.
All the want and curiosity builds up in him, and he wants to see you. It’s this urge to try to catch glances at you when you change, letting his eyes linger for a bit too long as you stand, trying to clean the top shelf, stretching your body, the flash of your stomach showing between your lifted shirt has him craning his neck, hoping- wishing- to see more of you. His hands are on you during sex, breath and lips to the shell of your ear, as he pleads in a broken voice to see more of you. His hands twisted at the covers, trying to touch your skin, trying to see past the darkness, to force himself to try to catch a glimpse of your body. It’s feral and deep seeded inside of him, the urge to just see you, making his body run hot, burning and heart beating against the inside of his chest as if it were trying to fly out of his body. He’ll whine and beg on his knees, his head between your thighs, trying to urge you to remove everything else, to let him just see you.
It’s the suspense that kills him. A part of him knows that your body will look just like any other type of body. He’s known you long enough to know about any scars, quirks, or anything about your body. When you finally decide to peel off the cloth, and show him your skin, you’re bashful, turning your head away from him, a dark flush running from your chest to your neck, to the plump of your cheeks, and the tip of your ears. And he can only kiss you, his feathers jittery and loose, a few trying to your head to look at him. Keigo kisses where he can, his feathers fluttered and twisted in your hand and it only makes a chill run down his spine. There’s a smile on his lips that doesn’t fade as he kisses you and it’s so youthful that has you breathing heavily, a feather pressed to your lips as you kiss the soft plumage.