Idek Who I Wanna Be More In This Situation 🥴

Posting on AO3 is like, I'm doing this for myself, but also immediately refreshing the page every 5 seconds to see if you get any hits comments or kudos. But totally only writing for me.

1. Omg they’re a team

2. THANK GOD SOME COUNSELING BIG URARAKA W

Oh wow it somehow got worse! I'm gonna go sob into my pillow now thx ✌🏾🥹

Here are some bnha ending implications about the League of Villains that drive me crazy:

We don't know if Touya thought Spinner and Mr. Compress were dead too.

Tomura never knew Twice was dead.

Touya and Tomura never knew that Toga tried to shapeshift into them and cried 'cause she couldn't :(

Mr. Compress last saw the LOV while he was trying to save them / help them reach a safe place. Next thing he was told is that most of them were dead.

Even if Touya was still alive long enough for Spinner to publish his book/comic, I doubt someone read it to Touya.

Since Toga showed up as Twice in the final battle, we don't know if Giran was aware of Twice being dead previous to that occasion or if he thinks Twice died at war there.

Although Kurogiri said that Tomura's friends were waiting for him, Tomura never saw his friends again.

They don't even know Tomura considered them his friends.

They don't know that part of the reason why Tomura died is because between the offer to change and forget his friend or stay behind and keep their memories, Tomura refused to be anything else but the villain's hero.

Most of them didn't get to hear Compress revealing his identity.

Toga "died" happily to save a friend, just like Twice did for her.

The last time most of the LOV saw Tomura, he wasn't himself / was possessed by AFO.

While the LOV's job was to sacrifice their lives for Tomura, it ended up being the other way around. Tomura died in their names and they got to die however they wanted.

Touya doesn't know Toga kept his words in her heart and got to smile again <3

All of them were doomed by the narrative.

The League of Villains has by far some of the most painful or torturous deaths in the whole series.

The villains have far better healing technology 'cause they somehow managed to save Dabi from being almost completely burnt, while he was doomed to die after the bnha finale.

Being part of the LOV was the highlight of most of its members lives.

Tomura probably doesn't know how much Kurogiri saw him as his own son.

Kurogiri probably doesn't know how much Tomura loved him, despite hiding it.

Spinner was probably never told Tomura's real story, so his version of the story will be forever incomplete. Even when he's Tomura's canon best friend.

Tomura saw his family die in front of him as a kid, but he died far away from all his friends.

Touya probably thought he was the last one of them to die.

Despite being called weak all his life, Spinner has to carry the burden of being the one and only last survival of the LOV.

'he would not fucking say that' maybe he would if he knew he was starring in his very own porn fic for the sole purpose of delighting some freaks on archive of our own dot org. maybe he'd play it up for the cameras. ever consider that

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Dream Demon

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Incubus Dabi comes for a meal

Pairing: Incubus!Dabi/Human Fem Reader

Content Warning: R*pe/Noncon, Dubcon, DARK FIC, Aphrodisiacs, Incubus Dabi, Nightmares, Sleep Paralysis, Paralysis, Mutilation, Genital Mutilation, Blood, Gore

Word Count: 2.4k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is for a Halloween Challenge in one of the communities here on Tumblr. I used four prompts from the challenge, plus my own for funsies, so I'll be posting every Thursday up to and including Halloween.

Promt: Incubus & Nightmare

As always, cross posted on AO3

Happy Halloween and Enjoy!💕

My Masterlist

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You're used to the haunting nightmares. Of things from your past, of all sorts of horrible possibilities, of people and things that scare you, that could hurt you.

Sometimes they're so vivid and realistic, when you wake up, you mistake it for reality.

Sometimes they're so hazy and random, you can barely remember them.

Sometimes you wake up jolting upright, scream tearing from your throat, voice hoarse afterwards.

Sometimes you wake up frozen and stiff, unable to move but wide awake. Breathing is hard, and you swear you see shadows, hear whispers, feel puffs of breath on your skin, raising goosebumps in their path. You don't know what is real, what is dream, how to breathe, how to move.

It lasts mere minutes that feel like hours, and when it's done, you feel drained.

You don't know how to explain this to someone in a way they can understand, so you don't bother.

You are accustomed to it, have accepted that it's simply another aspect of your life.

And then something shifts.

At one point, you swear you see the silhouette of someone hovering over you in your paralyzed state. It was towards the end of it, for maybe two seconds, and then you could breathe and move, and the silhouette was gone.

You dismissed it as a trick of the light.

How naive.

It kept happening, for longer periods of time, randomly. Sometimes it's there, sometimes it isn't.

And now, today something changes.

It's a vivid dream, vivid nightmare, vivid memory. Something you've dreamt about and relived over and over, and nothing ever truly changes. Not the dark, the moon, nor the cold.

Except for this time.

Because this time, you feel the warm pressure on your chest.

It's almost pleasant at first. Something different, something warm in the cold loneliness and fear that usually saturate your dreams.

And then it gets warmer. And warmer. And hot. Hotter. Your very blood boils, your skin blistering, the fear of your nightmare fading to the pure terror of burning up inside out from the unknown source.

Your surroundings are so heated you can see the heatwaves in the air around you, yet your bones are cold, heavy to the point of weighing you down and pinning you to the spot. You can't move.

You try to find your voice, to scream and get this to stop, but it feels like there's a hand wrapped around your throat, blocking your air and your voice. You want to scream, to cry, but you can't.

A near blinding flash of a pale blue light forces your eyes shut instinctively, making you stumble and fall backwards, but it only lasts a second. You snap your eyes back open only to be confused and even more terrified, which you didn't think was possible.

Because though the scorching heat subsides back into a low warmth, there's someone looming over you, his hand on your throat.

A pair of glowing twin flames of blue stare at you. The slitted pupils are unnerving, the intensity of them overwhelming.

The skin below his eyes are an inky purple, almost black, and a gradient of the same colouring creeps along his jaw and cheeks, down his neck and collarbones. There's the same dark pigmentation creeping up his arms to his biceps, piercings seeming to hold the colour to pale skin. You can see more of the same colouring and piercings on his bare lower torso.

The low light illuminates the silver littering his face, body and pointed ears, and the gleam of sharp teeth in his wide grin.

Tall, sleek black horns that curl up and back from within his dark hair, and large leathery, batlike wings on his back are surely a hallucination.

The hold on your throat mercifully loosens as he leans in to whisper into your ear.

"Oh, you're going to be delicious." His voice is low, smoky and deep, the words a saccharine whisper, his warm breath hitting your cheek as he traces a short, sharp claw along your other cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.

You shudder, in both fear and something else that scares you even more, as you stare up at him when he pulls back.

He grins that wretched grin as he coos, "I can smell your interest, Sweetheart." Leaning in, his forked tongue licks up the stripe of blood on your cheek, the cut stinging. "I can taste it."

He can taste the tang of despicable arousal that mixes with your fear, and you hate yourself that bit more for it.

You try to move, try to scream, but nothing happens. Nothing moves but your eyes as they frantically look around for the nonexistent way to escape.

So lost in your terror, you don't notice him move again, until you feel the soft brush of lips along your throat; that forked tongue following the touch, hot and wet against your skin. 

His claws tear through your thin clothes with frightening ease, before heated hands start to move over your now bare body; up your sides and across your chest, toying with your nipples, while his mouth roams your skin, leaving bites and licks, and marks and bruises in its wake as he makes his way down the length of your body.

The stimulation sends betraying heat through you, down to your core. You feel yourself getting aroused, the wetness between your legs mortifying.

Yet, it is tempting. Hypnotizing.

The desire to just give yourself over to that heat, to let this creature do what he wants, make you feel good with whatever he's doing to your body, be it here in your dreams or in the waking world, is vicious and strong.

But the moment that thought barely even occurs, instead of the hands bringing soft touches and treacly pleasure, there is agony.

Searing and blinding as his claws drag slow and deep into the flesh of the sides of your thighs, yet you cannot scream. Warm blood pours out of you as the gashes weep, tears stream down your cheeks as you try and fail even to sob.

He chuckles darkly.

“How rude of me,” he murmurs, biting into your inner thigh, just enough to leave a deep bruise. “I forgot my manners. I haven’t even introduced myself. You may call me Dabi. I want to hear you scream my name, after all.”

There's no time to process what he said as your autonomy is returned, though barely. You immediately let out a ragged sob, in pain and terror, as you uselessly try to escape.

He wastes no time in going right back to playing with your body, with the places where you're sensitive. His hands alternating between pinching at your sensitive nipples and pressing along the tender edges of your wounds as he licks a stripe up your wet folds, to your clit, making you gasp, writhe, and moan.

His tongue feels like hot velvet, your cunt tingling from his aphrodisiac-laced saliva, and you can’t help but cry out his name when he slips the slick appendage into you; and you find that it feels like a curse and a plea on your tongue, your pussy dripping.

“Mmm that’s it,” he growls against your drenched heat, the sound distinctly not human. “Let me hear you scream my fucking name.”

You're delirious and disoriented as the contrasting sensations of terror, pain and pleasure writhe under your skin, soaking your brain and heart.

You let out a broken, whimpering sob as you feel something wrap around your thigh and force your legs open a little wider, tight around the gash he left there, making it bleed even more, the blood pooling beneath you.

Looking down, you notice that it's a long, spaded tail, the colour of his marks, that's holding you open for the demon. 

Because that's very obviously what this thing is. A demon.

Spread wide enough for clawed fingers to press against your—no.

No, no, no, no, NO!

You thrash and scream, but the hot hand and tail around your thighs tighten to keep you still, and clawed fingers tear their way inside, no matter how slowly they go.

The pain is blinding. Nauseating.

Pain radiates through your entire being, and the trembling and sobbing certainly don't help you, only furthering your mutilation as he spreads them wide, stretching you out.

Warmth trickles down your legs, the mixture of your previous arousal and blood soaking your skin and the surface below you.

And oh.

You forgot that that was only the entry.

You forgot to prepare yourself for the exit, and so you scream as he tears you open freshly when the fingers leave, your eyes clenched tightly, and then something much bigger presses inside your unwilling body.

That sensation paired with the pulsing pain of his tail around your injured thigh has you letting out a sobbing scream as your eyes fly open.

The sound is abruptly cut off as you wake up, with terror soaking your mind and soul, hazy with disorientation, and nothing moves but your eyes, and your throat that spasms for air. For a moment, your body is locked up and paralyzed again, feeling like a volcanic rock rests on your chest, and just as your ability to move and see clearly returns, the barely shaken terror of your nightmare slams back into you with full force.

Because it was not simply a nightmare.

If the pulsing pain coursing through you isn't evidence enough, the glow of the demon's eyes in the dark of your room as they look at you, illuminating his markings and piercings around them with the little light being cast, certainly is, and you give a broken sob.

But the sound breaks off into a traitorous moan when his hips rock into yours; your fear-saturated mind finally realizing that the pain is rapidly going away, making way for heady pleasure.

You can feel the way your skin knits back together until the only evidence left of the wounds are the blood soaked sheets, and the smear of crimson on your skin.

A low, breathless moan escapes you as Dabi rolls his hips, and you tremble and writhe beneath him for a whole different reason, as you feel how full you are of the demon's cock and the treacherously delicious stretch of your cunt around him.

Heart pounding in your ears, you feel a bead of sweat trickle down the side of your forehead as he pumps into you, slow and deep, hitting your sweet spot on every thrust; the fear and arousal swirling as one in your stomach. His pace gradually picks up, until he's fucking into you mercilessly, and your eyes roll back.

Your pleasure builds and builds, and you can do nothing to stop it, you don't even know if you truly even want it to stop, and then you feel something inside of you, alongside your approaching climax, shift.

It's a foreign sensation, like something is under your skin, tangled along your veins, moving. It doesn't hurt, but it feels strange. Your heart is racing, and you're sure that he can hear it.

You're on the edge, so, so close, and then, you feel that strange shifting thing start to crawl up; into the back of your throat, and spilling out into your mouth, though you can't taste anything on your tongue, as your orgasm crashes over you with a sob, wisps of blue spilling out from your lips. Your cunt clamps down around him as you shudder and pant.

His eyes glow a little brighter as he grins, a monstrous, depraved thing, sharp and cruel and mocking, as he coos, "Thank you for the meal." His voice is a low purr, the tone all dark pleasure he leans in close, bracing his weight on one arm, his other hand catching your chin and forcing your mouth open, as his hips slow to a deep roll. Your fear spikes sharper as you once again can't move, as the thought that this man, this thing, is going to kiss you, and your eyes sting with tears, as though he hasn't already taken your body.

But no, he simply leans in close, enough for your noses to brush.

You see a faintly glowing blue cloud of mist pour out from between your lips, almost the same shade as his eyes, as he opens his mouth, sharp fangs bared, shotgunning it, and you can do nothing but lay there in your terrified confusion and let him do what he wants to you, whatever it is he's doing to you.

He groans, deep and guttural, as he swallows the mist, his hips moving a little rougher. You're sensitive and overstimulated, a whine stuck in your immobile throat.

You feel his cock twitch within you, his eyes rolling shut as he spills his release deep inside you, filling you with his hot cum; a confusing heat settling into the skin of your lower abdomen.

And when the fog finally stops pouring from your lips, and he gets his fill, he smiles; indulging in your fear and whatever he just took from you, be that the fear itself, your nightmare or your very soul.

You take a shuddering breath as control of your limbs comes back to you, but they feel like lead and you still can't make yourself move.

Glancing down, your breath hitches as you see the cause for the heated sensation in your abdomen.

Just below your navel, above where the monster's cock is still buried inside of you, is an intricate mark, a tattoo, the colour of his eyes etched into your skin, and your tears finally fall, because deep down, you know what it means.

Branding you as his, there is no escape.

And you want to fight, to scream, to do something, but exhaustion is taking a hold on you.

"Go to sleep," he instructs, his voice is a whisper, yet seems to echo, and you struggle to keep your eyes open. A futile effort, as you don't manage anything else before the dark is swallowing you back up in a blissfully dreamless slumber.

The last thing you hear is his haunting voice chuckling,

"Time for seconds." 

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i’m so glad earth only has one moon, if there were more i’d have to pick a favorite and that sounds too emotionally taxing to even fathom

Dabi, in his fancy little final battle outfit: I finally get to kill you, Shoto!!!

Shoto: Uh-

Shigaraki, trying to close Dabi’s coat: For the love of god, put your tits away! I can’t focus like this!