It must have been an hour or so…your eyes trained on the man before you.

Dabi’s lips press to the beer bottle, taking a drawn-out sip as he scrolls through his phone, scarred fingertips mindlessly tapping at the screen. He’s completely oblivious. He had no idea about the pair of eyes stuck to him, you’re mind on one question and only one question -Does he have scars on his ass? It’s a question you can’t help but ponder. Yes, you’ve seen him without his shirt and even in shorts, catching an eyeful of the purple patches that were sewn into his skin, yet what else was scarred?

Turquoise eyes are going wide when a pair of grabby hands tug at his pants, eyebrows shooting up, the poor thing almost choking on his next sip as he spins around to find you.

You want answers!