#dabi smut
ofallthingsnasty · 22 hours ago
Pairing: Dabi x F!Reader x Shigaraki Tomura Tags: hard noncon, misogyny, spitroasting, college au, alcohol, breeding-ish, scumbag dabi Word count: 3.8k Summary: Dabi shows him just how easy it can be. And you’re just at the wrong place at the wrong time - in the wrong state, too. Note: Probably not exactly what you wanted, anon - but this just came out of me. A very cathartic write, to be quite honest. Requests are open!
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“See, it’s easy”, Dabi takes a drag from his cigarette and looks at him through the dim light that shines through the sliding door - blue, green, red and blue again as the lightning system circles through its program for the nth time this night. “Fuck, they’re at every fucking party. Ripe for the taking.” Tomura can only muster a grunt in response, seemingly uninterested. The way he looks back at his friend tells a different tale - eager red eyes are fixed on every puff he takes and the way Dabi glances back into the living room of whatever shoddy college party he’d been dragged to. He doesn’t even know these people. And to be honest, he didn’t really want to come - it’s awkward as hell hanging off Dabi’s arm because he’s the only ‘friend’ he has in the room and even worse when it’s a party full of some snobby students talking big about philosophy and the economy while drinking fifty cent beer and wearing fast fashion. “You just gotta take them home. Y’know, like a real gentleman.” He gives Tomura a knowing look, leaving the ‘and then you fuck the shit out of these poor souls’ hanging right there in the air between them. Tomura still rolls his eyes at the weird flex -  and doesn’t answer. Dabi likes to talk shit a lot, but there’s always a smidge of truth in these big tales of his.
As if to show him exactly what he means, his friend takes a sweeping look around, shifting his eyes from the balcony back inside. Dabi’s half-lidded gaze stops somewhere in the darkness and he lets out something akin to a chortle. “Bet you we’ll get that one,” he tilts his head to some point behind him and Tomura tries to catch a glimpse of them, but the dotted lights make it hard to discern the vague dark shape seated on one of the couches.
He narrows his eyes at him. "Yeah, yeah fuck that. As if that flies here.” Dabi laughs a mean little laugh. “I’ll show you, alright.” He stomps out the bud on the terracotta of the balcony and leaves it right there. - You’re half delirious on the couch. One eye is propped open with only the white showing and you're slightly swaying as you sit. Drunk out of your mind and all alone, all your so called ‘friends’ already tucked into their own beds. The host is probably somewhere in the kitchen, cleaning up a little.
You look deplorable.
Hair amess, clothes rumpled - hell, he can almost smell the alcohol and sweat from dancing in the living room like two hours ago on you - you're not a pretty sight right now and with the way you keep swaying back and forth, it looks like you're fighting the urge to puke. Ew. He knows you drank too much, too fast. The way you always had a drink in hand during the whole evening had been the only thing he noticed you for - an unhealthy appetite for shit beer and trashy liquor, never turning down any offers to drink more and more. And now you’re all spaced out on some random dude’s couch, probably already regretting all that shit you poured down your throat. Dabi scoffs softly under his breath and then cracks his knuckles as though he’s about to complete a difficult task. Tomura doesn’t doubt that it’s possible to pluck a random girl from a party - no, he just thinks they’ll get caught quicker than he can say budweiser. But his friend stalks over with his usual swagger, full of hot air and alcohol.
"Hey", Dabi taps your shoulder - once, then twice - and you just groan in response, clearly too overwhelmed to properly react. "Time to go home."
The sentence seems to trigger something in you - prying your tired eyes open, you nod and slowly sit up a little straighter. You mumble something that sounds vaguely like approval and move towards the edge of the couch. Tomura cocks an interested eyebrow. Dabi leans in and whispers something into your ear and he can only watch as his friend works his magic - he has you nodding groggily while his face is giving you a mean little grin. He’s not even trying to hide his intentions, fully aware that you’re too boozed up to pick up on them.
Dabi helps you to your feet wordlessly - and you, the stupid little shit-faced bimbo you are, actually let him. Tomura watches the scene with mixed emotions - your good faith in his sleazy friend is almost adorable in its naivety, but it’s also surprising just how easy you are. You’ve either only ever had good experiences with strange men at parties or you’re too far gone to actually notice what’s happening. You can’t be that stupid, can you? And yet you just slump into Dabi’s waiting arms as though it’s completely normal and not exactly what you shouldn’t do as a woman. Tomura can only marvel at the display and Dabi’s smug eyes. He maneuvers you to the hallway, where all the coats are hung up and Tomura follows close behind, his hands buried deep in the pocket of his hoodie. It’s as though you’re on auto-pilot: You pick up your shoes and jacket and fumble around with them until Dabi sighs and kneels down. He helps you put on your boots, ever so gentlemanly - tying the laces, not complaining about your weight as you flop down to lean on him. It’s too easy, way too easy, Tomura thinks and his fingertips start to itch with the need to scratch his throat raw. “You guys going home?”, the host leans against the kitchen door frame, a couple of empty beer cans in hand. “Didn’t know you ran with Dabi.” He ends the sentence with your name and Tomura lets it roll around in his head a little. Fitting. “Yeah, yeah”, his friend rasps out while Tomura just stands back, silently watching, clutching his neck. If he gets suspicious now, it’s game over. “We’re in statistics together, man. Shoulda seen her last friday, she always goes nuts.”
A bluff. Tomura knows he doesn't know you, but it's clear this isn't your first rodeo, either. He sees it on the host’s face: that subtle twitch of his nose as he looks at your wasted form - more concerned with you not puking on his ratty bath mat than you getting home safely. Still, he can’t resist the urge to scratch away at some dead skin while he eyes the other man for a reaction. Things could turn south really quick. But today, luck is on their side. The host laughs a little at Dabi’s words, clearly reflecting on your past escapades as he stares off to the side. “Yeah, that’s true. You keep a good eye on her, okay? For me”, he says and his smile is genuine. Oh buddy, if only you knew. Is everyone here that stupid? “We live right around the corner, hell, I’ll tuck her in for you if you want that”, Dabi grins as though it’s a ridiculous thought. The host is too tired to investigate further and just nods dumbly. Either he doesn’t care all that much about you or Dabi is just convincing enough to get away with it. It’s probably the former, because everything about him screams sleazy and the dude has to be blind not to see it. “We’ll call you when she’s home”, he snickers on the way out, his back already turned and with you hanging from his arm. Of course he won’t. The way home is tedious. You’re so fucking slow and they need to stop twice so you can puke somewhere into the bushes. Dabi crams a mint into your mouth each time, but it does little for your breath.  Your arms are slung around his neck while you still try to walk side-to-side with him, but your feet are too clunky and drag more often than they actually roll off the ground. Every couple of seconds, a little grunt leaves your lips as you try to keep the content of your stomach where it belongs, the shaking and jostling around probably not helping in that department. When they finally arrive at your dorm, Tomura’s neck is raw from scratching - the streets are nearly abandoned but the thought of someone pulling up in a car or crossing their path and asking questions still has him looking over his shoulder. Dabi on the other hand is a monolith of calmness next to him, his forehead only glistening with sweat from hauling your barely conscious body around. “That’s your place, right?”, Dabi says, his voice barely a grunt from all the exertion as he stops in front of the tall building. It’s a cookie-cutter dorm, eggshell yellow that looks terribly ugly in the darkness. “Yeah, thank you”, you mutter and finger around in your coat pocket until Tomura can hear the distinctive jingle of metal on metal. You hand the keys over to Dabi, naive that you are. Not even one flight of stairs later they’re in your domain. Your studio is messy. He can tell you’ve tried out a couple of different outfits before picking the stupidly plain thing you spent the night in - your bed is peppered with different tops and jeans, all hurriedly shoved aside as soon as you deemed them unfit. Empty cups and plates are placed on top of your desk and papers are strewn about the whole apartment - you probably had an exam a couple of days before - or you’re just really fucking messy. He snickers quietly at the thought. Your tidy veneer might just hide a disgusting slob. And he gets to make you a little more messy.
How nice.
Dabi is quick to rid himself of his coat and boots and simply leaves them on the floor. He stalks into your room and promptly goes through your cabinets, while Tomura is still looking around, really taking in the atmosphere. You just stand next to him, a little worse for wear and confused. “Mind if I smoke a cigarette, baby?”, Dabi’s voice sounds muffled as though he’s hidden somewhere. He’s probably just rummaging through your underwear drawer. “S-sure”, you slur while you pop open the buttons of your jacket with uncoordinated hands. You’re so drunk you have the motor skills of a toddler. There’s a soft rustle of fabric and then the flick of a lighter. Tomura knows people aren’t allowed to smoke in these state-issued apartments, but the smell of fresh smoke is about to be the least of your problems. A woozy sound from his right side shifts his attention back to you. You're trying to untie your shoelaces with your back bent over, swaying and stumbling and desperate for them to be off - he watches you for a couple of seconds until he can't stand you kicking and pouting about anymore and shoves you on your ass.
"Hold still you idiot", he rasps out and you just stare at him dumbly.
He makes quick work of the too-tight knots Dabi had left you with and at once your toes wiggle free from their restraints, your white cotton socks fully on display.
"Thank you…", you say - lost and soft and genuinely grateful even though he just barked at you. He just grunts in response and gets up again. A clank and an appreciative sound and Dabi reappears in front of him, a bottle of atomic green liquid in hand. Tomura’s nose curls up in disgust out of pure instinct alone, immediately recognizing the liquor. “There we go”, Dabi snickers in your direction. “How about some peppermint schnapps, hm?¹”
“Sure”, you say again, as if it’s the only word you know. The way you’re sitting on the dirty floor with your stupid feet wriggling around, Tomura could probably believe it.
Dabi laughs at the scene and rummages through the kitchenette cupboard that’s located right next to the entrance, probably searching for some shot glasses. He pulls out cups instead and fills them with too much enthusiasm, grinning like a madman all the while. They’re almost halfway full once he’s done and Tomura can feel his stomach turn at the thought of drinking all that. Handing one to Tomura and one to you, he ushers you out of the kitchen and back to the main room.
“Well then”, he says and holds his own glass up in a mock-toast. “Bottoms up!” Downing it all in one go, he lets himself fall onto the bed, staring while you still don’t quite know what to make of the liquid. You sniff it with a pinched face until it finally dawns that it’s yours, from your own supply. But Tomura can’t get the schnapps down, no matter how hard he tries. Dabi’s generous hand poured him at least five shots into the glass and the minty flavor combined with the sharp kick of the alcohol triggers his gag reflex almost immediately. He sips at it while he watches you intently, anything to avoid the knowing eyes of his friend who’s probably quietly snickering at him not being able to handle his liquor.
You, on the other hand, have no problem with the taste nor the amount of alcohol - you simply throw your head back and shotgun the schnapps like your life depends on it. Although your eyes get comically wide for a moment, you manage to keep it down. Clearly, you’re a woman of many talents. “Come on”, Dabi says and he sounds as though he’s talking to a little dog, not a person. “Let’s get comfortable on the bed, hm?” You have half a mind to put the glass back on to the counter before you stumble over to him, nearly tripping over all the clothes on the floor. Dabi is on you in a flash, holding you down, kissing and groping you. You don’t even fight back. You only make a little noise out of surprise but kiss back eagerly, too blitzed to really grasp the situation. The kiss is messy and noisy and Tomura can’t help his face from contorting in disgust at the display. He knew his friend was a show-off, but this is a little too much. Dabi is quick to undress you while he’s still tongue-deep in your throat, shedding layer after layer until you’re only in your pants and socks. He gets you to lift up your ass to peel your ratty jeans from your legs and whistles at the plain cotton panties as though it’s expensive lace. You let him shift you around as though you weigh nothing, until you’re on all fours on your tiny single bed, ass up in the air and naked. It’s almost impressive to Tomura as he watches, glass still in hand and mint on his tongue. The situation is so surreal - just an hour ago he was listening to Dabi’s stupid rambling and now he has a front row seat to gawk at some drunk bitch getting fucked. He fingers around your cunt a little, his face sour. “Fucking alcohol”, he mutters as you moan mindlessly, eagerly grinding back into him, all eager and pliant. Ah, you’re dry. He should have known, really. With the amount of alcohol you’ve had this evening, there’s no way your body is working right - but to their luck, there is a little bottle on the console at the head of your bed. Dabi seems to have the exact same thought, because he lunges forward to snatch it from the wooden surface, “Would you look at that”, Dabi grins while dangling the lube in front of him. “Someone’s prepared.” He’s quick to spread it on his fingers and sinks them into you with the most gleeful smile Tomura has ever seen on his face. Only a moan from you pulls him out of his thoughts - and he finally notices just how painfully hard he is against his jeans. “Don’t fucking cuck me, man”, Tomura’s voice is a barely more than a growl. He does like what he sees, but he wants in on it now. And if he isn’t quick enough, Dabi is going to leave him high and dry while he gets his dick wet. “Then grow a pair and join. Or don’t”, Dabi answers with barely concealed annoyance, clearly not happy about being interrupted while he’s knuckle deep in your cunt. He doesn’t need to be told twice - shrugging off his pants and underwear, he climbs into the bed, still in his hoodie and now right in front of you. It’s a little weird to be directly across of another man while he’s about to fuck someone’s face, but also thrilling. He can’t wait to see how you’ll react to being stuffed from both sides. And unlike Dabi, he’s rather impatient. He smears his dick all over your lips while you simply stare up at him, curious and undoubtedly turned on. Dabi is still working you open - and Tomura counts himself lucky that your mouth doesn’t need any level of preparation.He slaps your cheek with his cock twice just to see what it’s like and watches you scrunch up your brows in confusion, but your mouth falls open obediently. Truly not your first rodeo, then. He doesn’t even need to stick himself into your mouth, you’re all too eager to get him inside yourself. You suck and tease and lick to the best of your abilities, taking him deeper and deeper. God, if he had known you were this good at sucking dick, he might have talked to you back at the party.
Then he's finally fully down your throat. It’s wet and warm and tight. He has to keep himself from rolling his eyes in bliss. The slight buzz he’s feeling makes it all the better - he feels like he’s a little more handsy, a little more horny. And now that you’re finally choking in his dick he can tell just how pent up he has been in the last couple of days. He keeps his eyes glued to your face - nothing would make him softer than looking at fucking Dabi right now, but the way you’re completely zoned out and drooling makes it easy to focus on you. As if on cue, Dabi finally lines himself up with your cunt, having lost his pants sometime in the last minutes. The moan you let out as he bottoms out vibrates nicely along Tomura’s cock and he starts to move on his own, fucking your face slowly, but deeply. For a little while the room is only filled with loud groaning from Dabi and the all too familiar slap of skin against skin. It’s good - so good that Tomura could almost get lost in the sensation. But then Dabi starts to talk.
"Would be a shame- a real shame- if you weren't on birth control, baby", he groans out and Tomura almost shoots him a dirty look, but the way you mumble pathetically around his dick in response is too hot.
"Don't want you to drop out because of a little accident, do we?", he continues, talking himself into a frenzied monolog. Shit, are these tears in your eyes? Tomura feels like he can’t get any harder than right now.
"Doesn't matter-", he fucks you so hard you're forced into Tomura's abdomen, so hard that spit bubbles out of your nose as you gurgle something around his dick. "Because you will take. It."
He didn’t know his friend was one to enjoy that. It’s disgusting, really. But the thought of your cocky grin wiped off your face when you see the positive test in a couple of weeks or so makes him grab your head and shove his dick even deeper into you until you look up at him with a creased forehead and tears in your eyes, having to strain yourself to move. Maybe he’ll come back in a month or two, just to see what you’ll be up to - and maybe, just maybe - you’ll recognize him.
It spurs him on too, as sick as it is.
Dabi's pace is relentless now. You're being shaken around like a ragdoll - as hard as it’s possible while his dick is all the way rooted down in your throat, anyway - and there’s a vague sense of distress behind your clouded eyes. And with the way your throat contracts around his dick he can tell you’re properly gagging on him and trying everything you can not to puke all over him.
And with every pathetic, helpless little chortle he can feel himself coming closer to the edge.
“Fuck”, Dabi chokes out behind you, working himself into you as deep as he can. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant-” And then he whines - actually whines - and bullies himself into you one last time. Tomura is close behind - he only needs one, two fast thrusts until he’s shooting his load into the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow it all. They both take a little to recover with you still pinned between them. Dabi is the first to pull out and he immediately springs from the bed into the bathroom, leaving you and Tomura alone. You look properly done for now - your eyes are empty and unfocused, your drunken mind clearly very much behind with processing the events of the last couple of minutes. Tomura takes himself out of your mouth and you promptly face-plant into the mattress as though he had held the strings that were keeping you up. Reaching for his clothes, he doesn’t even wipe himself before slips back into them - he’s too fucked out to care right now, the only thing his brain supplies him with is wait for Dabi. His friend doesn’t take too long in the bathroom - when he returns he looks pleased with himself. He stalks over to the bed one last time, grabs Tomura’s right arm and turns to you. “There, there”, he pats your hip with his left hand and you roll to your side at the touch, disoriented and exhausted. You’re sniveling and still choking on air, sputtering about. If Tomura had half a heart, he’d put a bucket next to your bed - but he’s too dazed in his post-orgasmic bliss to even consider it. You’re left as you are, naked and shivering, a pathetic mess.
They’re out of your dorm in a minute, both basking in that sweaty glow, Dabi grinning like an idiot as he already puts another cigarette between his lips.
They linger in front of your dorm a little longer while Dabi smokes. It has to be well after four now, but Tomura’s phone has died somewhere down the line and you didn't have any digital clocks in your studio, so he can only guess.
There’s a pat on his shoulder and Dabi grins at him a little too wide. He wonders just how often he’s done this before. “Told you it was easy.”
 - ¹What we do - a shot of that shit to clean out the puke. Tastes like ass but better than vomit. It’s called Pfeffi, it’s liquid toothpaste. Bleurgh.
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dabisqueen · a day ago
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Source: Twitter
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ztoji · a month ago
# : title just for shits and giggles, almost… smut under the cut.
tags : breeding, lots of cum?, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms hinted, use of daddy
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he’s keeping his hands on the back of your thighs to reach deeper inside of your already cum filled cunt, your lower half in the air because of the angle. his cock so deep in you it keeps bumping into your cervix and making your stuffed cunt cream around his cock fit snugly inside of you.
you keep mumbling about how he’s reaching too deep, but the way your hips move towards his every time he pulls out makes it hard to believe.
“look at the way your cunt is creaming. ‘s painting my cock white baby.” he says, making you whine louder. “i should keep filling you up until your pretty pussy can’t take it anymore. keeping my cum plugged in until you get round with my baby?” he asks while slowly picking up the speed of his thrusts.
“y-yes, please put a baby in me! wanna make you a daddy.” you answer, now full on thrusting back onto him. making him reach even deeper and causing his thick cock to rub against your g-spot.
he lets go of your legs and reaches down to touch your clit. sensitive after hours of fucking, the light touching making you cum almost instantly. the tightening of your cunt almost forcing him to slow down, keeping your hips sealed together and your hips still against the mattress.
once the tightening from your cunt stops he picks up the speed again, your moans getting even louder and begs for him to slow down because you’re still so sensitive.
he’s panting by now, “gonna cum soon.” he mumbles, pressing a hand flat on your tummy to feel himself. “’m gonna cum in you baby, yeah? want you filled with my cum.” he continues.
“p-please cum in me daddy.” you mumble out, finding his eyes “wan’ be filled up with your cum, wan’ your baby in me.” he leans down to kiss you hard, hips stuttering as a showing that he’s gonna cum soon. “yeah, want you to cum with me.” and once again he’s reaching down to rub his thumb on your clit, pushing your legs over his shoulders to watch as his cock ram into your wet cunt. a white ring forms on his cock from both of yours cum.
you push against his hips when you feel yourself get close again, hips stuttering together as to show you are both going to cum soon. but this time with him and deep inside. “please please please, cum with me.” you beg, watching with wide eyes as his groans gets louder and hips thrusting even harder against yours.
with a loud moan you cum together. his warm cum filling you up and your cum squirting onto his lower stomach. you are both left panting as he stops thrusting, but keeps his softening cock flush inside of you.
separating from you he smiles softly to you, “we should clean up.” he says, “mhm, later though. want to be close now.” you mumble, hiding in his neck. you feel him chuckle and pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
“hope that makes a baby.” he smiles.
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# a/n : he wants a baby *gasp* /j. old piece tho so yuh i tried to change it to the better aND those older drabbles will probably have so u decide who matches best? if that makes sense
2022 © all content belongs to ztoji. Do not repost my work anywhere.
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p-antomime · 2 months ago
Kiki can you list on you're fav fic that you had written with twitter porn links(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞
this thing here with rindō | 𖥻 link
this thing here with maki | 𖥻 link
this thing here with haruchiyo | 𖥻 link; link
this thing here with gojō | 𖥻 link
this thing here with izana | 𖥻 link
this thing here with mikey | 𖥻 link; link
this thing here with haruchiyo | 𖥻 link
this thing here with haruchiyo | 𖥻 link
this thing here with toji | 𖥻 link, link
this thing here with denki | 𖥻 link
this thing here with dabi | 𖥻 link
this thing here with mitsuya | 𖥻 link
this thing here with nanami | 𖥻 link; link; link
this thing here with toji | 𖥻 link
this thing here with shigaraki | 𖥻 link
this thing here with wakasa | 𖥻 link
this thing here & here with bonten trio [ran; rindou; haruchiyo] | 𖥻 link; link; link; link; link; link
phewwww~ that's all, kisses~ babe
⚠️. some links may contain content such as overstimulation, piss, edging, stepping and/or breeding kink, so please first read the works warnings next to the links before opening them !
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izukus-bby · 6 months ago
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so i’ve decided to make the twt links their own masterlist :)
↳ if some of the links don’t work, please keep in mind that twt does suspend accounts from time to time
izuku midoriya [38]
(sub) izuku midoriya [10]
katsuki bakugou [13]
sero hanta [6]
eijirou kirishima [13]
tenya iida [9]
shoto todoroki [20]
denki kaminari [12]
mezo shoji [5]
neito monoma [7]
hitoshi shinsou [13]
aoyama yuuga [7]
(sub) tamaki amajiki [10]
(dom) tamaki amajiki [6]
dabi [15]
tomura shigaraki [17]
keigo takami [12]
shota aizawa [8]
mirko [9]
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iwasbunny · 3 months ago
𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘 | kinktober special.
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𝖋𝖙. tenya iida, dabi, tomura shigaraki, katsuki bakugou — balls.
𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. lactation kink, fem reader, breeding kink, degradation, praise, afab reader, dacryphilia, sadistic tendencies, daddy kink, deepthroating, hair pulling, man-handling, choking, creampies, overstimulation.
𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖘. 593 words.
𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊. the warnings- just.. yeah.
kinktober masterlist.
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𖤐 𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖞𝖆 𝖎𝖎𝖉𝖆
He just loves the idea of you being all round and full of his seed, milk leaking out of your perfect tits while he eagerly suckles on them.
His hips don’t falter, not even once as he continues to fuck his cum deeper into you, practically carving your insides into the shape of him. Making sure you know exactly who is fucking you stupid.
He’ll empty his balls in you before giving you a disapproving glare as his seed seeps out of your cunt, his voice coming out in a low gravelly tone.
“What did I tell you about wasting daddy’s cum, princess. Tsk, naughty girl — guess I’ll just have to fill you up again.”
𖤐 𝖉𝖆𝖇𝖎
Loves seeing you a crying, mumbling mess underneath him. Desperately clinging onto his shoulders and unable to utter a single word as his cock pistons in and out of your pussy at an animalistic pace.
“What’s wrong, slut? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Practically begged me to fuck you, yeah? So shut up—shut up and fuckin’ take my cock.” Your walls clamp down on him at his words and he can’t help but chuckle.
“My little slut likes to be degraded, doesn’t she? Fuck, you’re clamping down on me so much. Don’t worry, doll. I’ll make sure to fill you up real fuckin’ good.”
𖤐 𝖙𝖔𝖒𝖚𝖗𝖆 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖐𝖎
He’s filthy, doesn’t even bother jerking off. I mean, why would he? That’s what you’re here for, right? His perfect little toy, willingly taking every drop of cum he has and milking his aching balls.
His sadistic eyes are always on you, watching you struggle to take his length deep into your throat, yet you don’t complain—you never do, cause you know who’s in charge. He fills your mouth with a loud grunt, his warm and bitter seed making it even harder to breathe.
Your eyes widen in surprise as his hands come up to grip your chin, four fingers tightly forcing you to look up at him as he mutters. “Don’t swallow it, slut. Keep it in your mouth, I want you to taste my cum while I fuck this pretty pussy, got that? And I better not see you waste a single fuckin’ drop.”
𖤐 𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚 𝖐𝖆𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖐𝖎
His hands are tightly tangled in your hair as your face is pushed into the mattress. Lewd slapping sounds fill the air as his hips snap furiously against yours ass, the harshness of his movements making his heavy balls come down to slap against your cunt.
The sound of his laughter rumbles in your ears as he pulled you up, making you take his cock to the hilt while his hands shift to wrap around your throat as he pulls yet another orgasm out of you.
“Squeezin’ me so tight, baby. You got one more in there f’me, dont’cha? ‘Course you do, maybe this time I’ll cum with you. Fill you up like you wanted me to, pretty girl.”
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sukunababy · a month ago
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cw. mdni. nsft visuals — twt links, f!reader, pussy eating, riding, deepthroating, choking, public, nipple play, cum shot
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— Dabi is quite proud of his oral skills and thinks you're so fucking hot when you get on all fours in his face.
He has sadistic tendencies so expect him to be a little rough when he sucks your wet lips into his mouth and grazes with his teeth pulling on your throbbing clit.
Touya's grip on your hips is livid as he presses his fingers into your tender flesh to keep you from wriggling and holding onto his tongue.
Even after you've reached your climax he'll keep you still on his face pushing his tongue between your folds, moaning in approval. If he's in the mood to play, just when you're about to cum, Dabi will pull away with a lazy look in his eyes, demanding you beg him to make you cum and tell how much you need him.
— Dabi is satisfied to watch you bounce on top of him, hands behind his head and a smirk on his face as he watches you pout and try to take him full length.
He's addicted to the lewd sounds that echo: your hips slapping his, his swollen balls pounding on your ass as you slide quickly onto his throbbing cock, your moans passing from your puffy lips as his thick tip rubs your sweet spot.
When Dabi is at his limit with his cock aching and covered in pre cum and your juices, finally his hands move up your body, traveling to your ass, groping it roughly and pulling you down onto his face so he can suck, bite and fiddle with your turgid nipples.
— If Dabi could spend the rest of his life with his thick cock in your throat, he'd be more than satisfied.
Your swollen lips being parted with a pop when Touya pushes the tip of his veiny cock into your mouth, your hot throat swallowing and sucking him in every time his hips slam against your face.
His position to better push him into your throat is definitely you lying on your back and him behind you. His chest swells as your throat accommodates his shaft, and it bulges making him glimpse the outline of his cock inside you.
His balls flapping sloppily on your face as he bends over you to tighten his fingers around your neck and when he's ready for release he pulls out to cum because he loves to see his seed spread across your flushed face.
— Dabi is not ashamed of the fact that his cock gets hard as soon as he lays eyes on you.
He doesn't care where you are, whether you are on the train or in the public gardens, he will always find a surface to lay you down and fuck you dumb.
Bonus if while he's pumping in and out of your tight hole there are people walking around you, Dabi will look for a position to show them your fat red ass, how your sticky, tight walls swallow all of his throbbing cock and how your cum slides down your naked thighs and pools at the base of his shaft.
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— join my taglist.
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jinkicake · 4 months ago
That Boy Is A Real Pussy Pleaser
Aizawa, Dabi, Hawks, Shigaraki, when their s/o sits on their face.
Aizawa Shouta x Reader
Dabi x Reader
Hawks x Reader
Shigaraki Tomura x Reader
A/N: Okay, my only notes from when I wrote this are ‘H0RNY is a disease and I wanted to write LOV (just dabi and shigaraki and ....) smut soooooooo'. I was not in my right mind when I wrote this heheh,, use of ‘daddy’ in aizawas because im a bitch 
WC- 2,582
Aizawa Shouta 
Between you and me, reader, I have written about nine different Aizawa smuts and they’re all hiding in my drafts… I have practiced time and time again for this day!!! My first Aizawa smut!!!
Okay,,, let me start off by saying that Aizawa has zero restraint. If this man sees you bent over a counter or with small ass shorts on then he will be on his knees and between your thighs before you can even blink
He likes forgetting about the world and all the shit he has to deal with when he’s in-between your legs like literally, he’s tripping over his own two feet for it!!
Aizawa is still very dominant even when he is eating you out, even when you are on top like he will give you commands that are muffled into your cunt
Like you better play with your tits or stop pulling on his hair!! You better listen or else he’ll stop what he’s doing all together!!
Brainrot.... I feel like the burn of his scruff against your sensitive thighs would be so mind-numbing like literally, sigh…. Your skin would be raw afterward and it would hurt
Aizawa can either be super slow and thorough or really mess and quick when eating pussy, it just depends on his mood and how you’re acting!! 
He likes to go slow when he’s teasing you but sometimes he’s super rough and messy when you’ve been acting like a brat!!! 
Oh… this bitch is the type to bite your clit if you’re being a little shit like he is not above inflicting pain onto you! Thepussyshallknowpain
Speaking of, you’ll most def be tied up for this… in some sort of way!!!
Aizawa trails his lip up your inner thighs, gently kissing your skin and peaking his tongue out past his lips for a taste. His large body beneath you looks unreal, muscles splayed out for you to see and gawk at. He knows exactly what he is doing, making it known in the way he lets his stubble graze your skin before soothing the burn with a kiss. 
It’s no surprise he finds you so wet already. 
The first strokes of his tongue against your slit start out slowly, firm licks with his entire tongue just to get your folds to spread for him. At first taste, he’s groaning for you and he only gets louder with each lick. Your heart is racing, leaping out of your chest when he finally circles his muscle around your clit. Aizawa refuses to touch you there just yet, he doesn’t even kiss the bundle of nerves until he knows you’re ready for him. 
This makes you ansty. Despite your hands being tied behind your back, you still find a way to move. Your knees shake and you gently lift yourself up to shuffle your hips, maybe put your clit onto his tongue if he won’t do it himself. 
Your disobedience is met with a firm slap on your ass as well as a bite on your inner thigh, the spank is followed by another one and another one until your skin feels numb and all you can do is whimper. 
“Don’t move unless I tell you too, kitty.” Aizawa commands lowly, his hands find your hips and tightly pulls on them as a warning. “Now, let daddy see your pretty little pussy.” Finally, his tongue strokes your clit. The first lick is bold and strong compared to the second. He flicks your sensitive spot with the pointy tip of the hot muscle. Each touch has you gasping, clenching around nothing, as your legs begin to shake from the sensation. Aizawa’s grip only tightens and you audibly moan at the sight of his biceps flexing. His strong hands on you make your body feel as if it’s on fire and you start to grind down against his lips. 
“There we go, pretty girl. Give me that tight cunt.” Aizawa’s soft voice is illegal, you’d give him anything if he asked. His tongue traces your clit slowly, feeling the swollen bud pulsate under his touch. He needs to feel you cumming around him. “Make me proud, sweet girl.”
This man…. can do shit with this tongue,, something about Dabi just screams that he has pussy for breakfast, lunch, dinner, desert, AND for a snack!
Maybe it’s that stinky, stinky, no showering for him ever look?? Just kidding~ 
I don’t know why and I don’t know how but, Dabi knows exactly how to please a bitch like this man just knows?
It’s Dabi, people!!! Like he wouldn’t not know, ya know?? How can you want to kill your father and family but not be able to do something as simple as eating pussy like???? I think Dabi has his hands full with a lot of stuff so he got the basics out of the way FIRST! 
Anyway, this flaky piece of shit would have you seeing stars like eyes rolling to the back of your head
Dabi is very controlling when it comes to pussy eating, okay? You’re not going to be grabbing on his hair and shit, he’ll have your hands pinned to your sides while he has his meal. You should know better than to interrupt him while he is feasting HAHAH 
He’ll literally play with your cunt for hours, there is just something so therapeutic in running his tongue through your folds and licking your clit with his fattt tongue… probably because it teases you and he likes watching you suffer-
He’s into using his fingers and toys like he’ll make you hold a bullet vibrator against your tits while he plays with your cunt,,, uhhhh lol
I dunno,,, I’m on a Dabi high rn hmmm 
Dabi also eats ass,, yeah :-)… I think that’s a good way to finish this! 
Cool metal sets your skin ablaze, making your legs twitch out of impatience from where they rest on either side of a dark-haired man’s head. 
Not just any man, an annoying one. One who is kissing your thighs so softly and tracing his tongue along each of your stretch marks until every inch he can reach is covered with his saliva. 
His words still ring in your head, previously spoken before he found himself caught in a momentary bliss between your thighs, you wanted me to touch you so badly, didn’t you? Dabi’s tendency to call you a ‘little whore’ did not leave you sitting like a good girl. 
His loud moan makes that clear, tongue finally coming out of his mouth to lick your slit. 
I’ll eat your slutty cunt out until you’re twitching and then you’ll leave me alone, right, baby?
Dabi knows he’s kidding himself, you’re never going to stop whining for him even if he sticks a vibrator in you and leaves you like that for hours. He doesn’t mind, not that much, because he deeply enjoys eating you out. 
He likes the taste of your cunt, the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his head, and he especially likes the mewls that leave your lips when he throws his arms around your waist and pins you down to his face. You get overstimulated so easily, he can’t have you squirming on him, his staples will fall out. 
Even if you try to move, he’ll just bite your sensitive clit to get you to stop. 
You’re his slutty girl who knows how to take an order, a good slutty girl. 
Dabi figured that you needed some reward for somewhat behaving. What better offer does he have other than to eat you out till your brain goes numb?
“You’re so fucking sexy,” He murmurs into your thigh, taking a breather -his own sadistic way of teasing you-, before slotting his lips over your clit. At first, it’s a kiss and then it’s a hot clash of his tongue against your most sensitive part. His groans are loud but not louder than the sound of his mouth working against you, his earnest swallows have your heart lurching in your throat. He’s going to devour you whole.
You can’t seem to figure out a single reason to care.
MY BABYYYY, my sweet precious Keigo,,, my meow meow!!! Ummm,,, he’s the type of man who gets pleasure from eating pussy. 
Bare minimum, I KNOW! But, idc!!!! It is the truth, you cannot tell me that this man wouldn’t be thrusting his hips up into the air and cumming without being touched all from getting to taste you~
Okay, theoretically speaking… Hawks can’t really have his face sat on because of his wittle sensitive wings, like he cannot lay on his back since it would probably hurt? Therefore,, you might be suspended in the air *wiggles eyebrows heheh*
Sidebar: this bitch loves 69-ing heheheh
Hawks will have you forgetting your own name when he eats you out like this man will fuck you stupid with his tongue
Your body will go numb because it’s going to be a two-hour experience with him, like this man will have you cumming in seconds and then having you doing it over and over again and again!
General rule of thumb: If he gets you undone within five minutes then you’re going to cum like at least two more times before he even thinks about being done with you
And if he’s teasing you and taunting you and leaving your lower half feeling numb, it’s because he’s taking his sweet time… He likes to run his tongue all on your inner thigh, the back of your thighs, hell, even over your ass cheeks before he meets your soaked core
Someone take this fucking keyboard away from me before I write ass eating!!! 
Anyway, in my head, Keigo has a tongue piercing. Take what you want with that. 
“Keigo,” You heavily sigh your man’s name into the air as you tightly grip the kitchen counter for support. Hawks has been in-between your thighs from the second he got home and saw you leaning over the table, ‘innocently’ scrolling through your phone. 
First, he had you against the table, and then he had you on the floor, then on top of the counter, and now, finally, you’re standing back up on jelly legs leaning against the counter. Either way, he’s been tangled between your legs without a care of getting out. 
With an expert flip of his tongue you tightly pull onto his hair and make him release a sloppy groan. Hawks truly has no care in the world, he’s focused on curling his fingers and sucking on your clit like it’ll make all of his problems disappear. 
Your shorts are long gone, discarded against the hardwood floor and in another room. Right now, you wish you still had the small amount of fabric so then you wouldn’t be leaking onto the floor as you are. Dripping all on his face.
Well, you probably wouldn’t be nearly as wet if not for the silver ball resting on his tongue. 
Hawks’ tongue piercing is easily your most favorite thing in the world.
The cool sensation against your hot skin always makes you hiss and your legs to tense, cunt squeezing painfully around nothing. Typically, it’s nothing but right now you’re squeezing around two of his slim fingers. 
He has such pretty ass fingers. 
With each slow lick of his tongue, your body becomes hungrier and hungrier for more. You’re practically grinding down on his face, riding his tongue to save your life. It’s the closest thing to facesitting you’ll ever get. 
His fingers continue to pump in and out of your pussy at a quick pace, curling ever-so-slightly behind your clit until he feels that sensitive area he craves to touch. When he reaches it, Hawks whines into your clit and sucks on it before circling it with his piercing. The simple pattern of suction and stimulation is driving you insane. It makes you cum just knowing that you’re going to fall victim to it a few more times tonight. 
Shigaraki Tomura
Omg, this fucking virgin dreams about being suffocated by pussy like pls the only reason this man has not gone out yet is because he refuses to die any other way…
Shigaraki, my little creep, would worship the ground his s/o walks on,,, so imagine if you gave him a little coochie like this man would pass out and then probably drool at the sight of your bare thigh any time after that LMFAOOO
He’s very excited to please! This is me pushing my ‘Shigaraki has a praise kink’ agenda!! Call him your ‘good boy’ and let him know how well he is doing always, please!
It’ll have him cumming in his pants HAHA
Sometimes he gets really bratty and catches an attitude with you… smh,, but tbh all you have to do is fuck the attitude out of him
Sit on his face for a bit, let him suck on your clit and that’ll shut him right up!!! He just needs to be occupied and then he’ll be your good boy again~ (Almost slipped in a m*mmy kink there, oopsies~)
Don’t get me wrong like Shigaraki can def be a dom bitch and usually is most of the time HOWEVA,,,, when it comes to face-sitting he becomes your little bitch. He is so thorough and does not leave a spot of you dry! 
He wants you to tell him what to do, he’s just so excited to have cunt in his face like!! He’s in heaven, okay! 
And Shigaraki knows exactly how to eat pussy…. do NOT get it twisted
This man would run five hours in the blazing heat for some spare coochie, he is desperate! A desperate, sloppy mess~~ hehe my favorite! He…. also eats ass!!! Every one of these bitches eats ass!! 
“Good boy, Tomura,” You sigh out the praise as your fingers dig tighter into his light blue hair, Shigaraki thinks he may have just died and gone to heaven. He’s having such a good time with his tongue between your folds, nose rubbing against your clit as he groans desperately. Nothing beats having you sit on his face, absolutely nothing. 
Shigaraki’s favorite part of it all is cupping your ass into his palms, squeezing and spreading your cheeks to piss you off. It always has you pressing yourself further onto his face, almost suffocating him with your gorgeous thighs. Sometimes, he’ll tap your leg just to see if you’ll listen and get off of him. 
You never do and that only makes him harder. 
He loves to listen to your whines, your cries, any single noise that you make when he’s lapping his tongue over your clit. It makes his toes curl and his hips thrust into the air. Shigaraki does this all for you, his eyes close in satisfaction as the warm need to please takes him over. 
It nearly makes you laugh. 
“Eating my pussy so well, you’re such a pussy pleaser, aren’t you?” You ask and are surprised when he nods, eyes still shut as his lips encase your clit before sucking softly. “You just love eating pussy, such a sweet boy.” Your words fuel him to keep going, get him even harder as he slightly sits up to swallow more of your cunt. His face is wet with arousal and drool, hair messy from the rough pulls of your fingers. Shigaraki is really a sight for sore eyes. “I bet you want everyone to know how good you are at eating pussy. Want the rest of the league to see you like this? Like the good little pussy eater that you are?”
By now, your chest is heaving with each breath as the strokes of his tongue become stronger with each circular motion. He knows exactly how to ruin you and the thought makes your heart stutter. 
“Make me cum, Tomura, I want to cum!” You attempt to bounce on his face much like you do his cock and Shigaraki has finally had enough, he can’t handle it when you squirm.
He’s going to throw you off of him, mount you like the whore you are and, get some screams out of you. 
@atsushii-tora @xhanjisungiex @chaosamu @angeltsumu @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @chuuyasbunny @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder @macaronnv @nerdygremlin @buzzybeebee @miyaxs @badboysdoitbetter2 @blossoms-nursery @bibliophile221b @curiouslilbeast @eunxhi @apollochjld @jojoforthesoul @kiyoojima @kit-tea @my3ammadness @miamiya @tnu-ree @yatogamisenpai @lollyzen @differentballooncollection @ynjimenez @therainroguefanfiction @cutiekawa @ohbyunhunn @i-will-eat-your-trousers @virqgo @thelilyflowersworld @wompwomphq @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @answer-the-sirens @jeshicore @kurooloves @itsmeaudrieee @noisyalmonddreamer @peteunderoos @dai-tsukki-desu @sakusasimpbot @wisepandaslimeland @sushijimawakatoshi @whorefornoodles @crystal-lilac @reiners-beard @tsukkimoonbyeol @tirzamisu
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smallmight-papi · 4 months ago
✩ embarrassing/taboo things that turn on the mha boys
includes: touya todoroki (dabi), tomura shigaraki, tamaki amajiki (sun eater), toshinori yagi (all might), eijiro kirishima (red riot)
i just choose random characters at this point so y’all thirsty hoes can drink up.
warnings: mentions of slapping, hate sex, dacryphilia, threats, teacher/student roleplay, panty stealing, somnophlia
touya todoroki (dabi)
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when you’re angry
✩ he can’t help it, you just look so cute when you’re mad, brows furrowed, an angry scowl strewn across your features as you scold at him
✩ will absolutely not hold back, he’ll tell you mid argument how hot you look when you’re pissed at him, making you more angry
✩ he’ll just stand there with a stupid smirk on your face, watching you reddened with frustration. his cock tense against his boxers, palming himself.
✩ he’ll shut you up with a kiss, grabbing you by the hair on the back of your head, pulling it back to make you look at him
✩” why don’t we let out your frustrations in other ways doll? i’ve got a few ideas”
✩ knows you won’t say no to angry hate sex. you’ll slap each other around, cursing and shouting the whole time.
✩It’s hot asf ngl
tomura shigaraki
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when you cry
✩ shigaraki is creepy as hell, we all know this. now when I say crying turns him on, I don’t mean like hyperventilating and sobbing during a panic attack.
✩ i mean the type when you’re begging him to stop when he overstims you and tears run down those pretty cheeks of yourself
✩ having you all tied up, 4 fingers on your throat, warning you to keep still or you’ll meet a painful fate
✩ ‘keep crying you slut, just makes my dick harder anyways’
✩ he WILL mock the shit out of you, repeating back your whimpers and cries in a demeaning tone, evilly smiling the whole time
✩ his dick aches whenever you start to sob, barely able to get words out your so overwhelmed
✩ you just look so pathetic, how can he help himself?
tamaki amajiki (suneater)
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stealing your panties
✩ he knows it’s wrong, especially since the two of you weren’t dating when it started. he just doesn’t have much self control when it comes to his bunny
✩ he’d sneak into your room, steal a lacy pair and run back to his room to rid himself of his aching erection
✩ for some reason, the perverted act turns him on so much. using his tentacles to jerk himself off while he nuzzles his face into your used panties. inhaling your scent. the idea of being caught in such an act only spurring him on more
✩ he’d bite down on his bed sheets, whimpering and moaning. imaging how you’d sound, how you’d feel, how you’d taste. pre cum leaking out of the angry red tip.
✩ he’d wind up pumping himself with the panties wrapped around his cock. his hot cum spurting out all over them, leaving a sticky, sweet mess.
✩ as much as he’d love to return them with his mark still on them, he’s a gentlemen and he’d nicely clean them before returning them to your room while you sleep.
toshinori yagi (all might)
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teacher//student role playing
✩ don’t get the wrong idea, he’s never been attracted to a student. but one day when you put on your old UA uniform, he nearly passed out.
✩ it was too small so the skirt showed off your ass, the top trying to stretch over your breasts, it had toshi drooling
✩ he doesn’t feel very powerful since he no longer can use the power of one for all, so anything role play that puts him in a position of power, thrills him
✩ call him mr. yagi and he will wind up coughing up blood
✩ “do you like my uniform mr. yagi? It seems to have caught your attention..”
✩ “that’s quite scandalous for such a hardworking student like yourself ms. (L/N)”
✩ would love the idea of having you spread out on his teachers desk, toying with your panties under your skirt, watching you squirm around with pleading eyes
eijiro kirishima (red riot)
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✩ cut this boy some slack, he’s on patrol a lot so he usually comes home to you sleep peacefully in your shared bed, watching how your chest rises and falls with your breathing.
✩ the soft hue of the lights in your room make you look like an angel, his angel.
✩ he’d remove his hero clothes before crawling in next to you, needing stress relief after a long patrol he comes up with an idea
✩ rolling you onto your side, pulling down your panties from under your night dress, making sure you’re still asleep, he’d slowly slide his cock between your thighs, feeling the slick from your cunt as he moves back and forth
✩ the feeling of your thighs pressed together around his cock has him on the verge of cumming right after he started
✩ kneading your breasts and smelling your hair, he’d buck up against you. panicking that he might have woke you
✩ he’d finish quick, leaving his thick sperm to stay coated all over your thighs all night, wanting you to wake up with a fun surprise.
a/n: expect a lot of new fics this week, im in a writing mood as of late.
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druighoney · 3 days ago
—How they like it!!
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Synopsis: K!nk hcs
Note: this was supposed to be AOT cast k!nks but then I added Bakugo and tengen and proceeded to make this a multifandom disaster....
CW: f! reader, aged up chars, brat taming, daddy k!nk, size difference, breeding, crying, biting. Mdni.
Fandoms: aot, tokrev, mha, jjk, haikyuu, demon slayer, genshin impact.
#tags. @festive @yuujispinkhair @ztoji @saintshinobu @gabzlovesu
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Reblogs and interactions are appreciated!!
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—Brat taming
“Aw, do you want help with that?” His voice cooed at your sob, his fingers drumming lightly on your clit before slapping the poor swollen nub,"Ah— please, please daddy!" You cry out as his thick cock bullies into your already abused cunt with vigor, “Tell me what you want me to do, brat.” He pinches your clit before you're stumbling on your words,"Need you to make me cum,"
"You wanna cum?" He taunts, grabbing your jaw, “If you beg, you can cum.” Your fluttering eyes catch a glimpse of the sadistic glint in his eyes, a whimper of pleas bouncing off your tongue. With a condescending chuckle, he kisses your lips as his cock nudges the rough patch deep inside you, "You're gonna cream on my cock, hm?" He smirks as he feels your pussy flutter around his shaft,"Not so much of a brat now, are you?"
zeke, eren, erwin, levi, kenny, miche, atsumu, sakusa, kuroo, daichi, iwaizumi, sukuna, gojo, toji, tengen, sanemi, bakugo, dabi, shinsou, aizawa, childe, kaeya, sanzu, mikey, rindou.
Hot puffs of breath left your parted lips as you tipped your head back. You whimper his name so sweetly yet it's drowned out by the wet slaps of his skin on yours,"Look at you," His thumb wiped away the tears staining your burning cheeks. He smirks as he watches a fresh roll of pearly droplets run bubble up in the corner of your eyes,"Crying s'sweet for me."
"Daddy," Your glassy vision focused on him, witnessing the wicked curl of his lips,"It's all for daddy, yeah?" He ground his hips sharply into yours, plucking broken moans along with your sniffles. You can feel his cock throb against your walls as he remained snug inside you. He lowers his head to let the tip of his tongue flick against your tear stained cheek, humming at the salty taste of it,"I'm fucking you that good, huh?"
zeke, eren, armin, jean, porco, levi, erwin, geto, megumi, gojo, akaza, sanemi, shinjuro rengoku, shoto, keigo, shigaraki, kaeya, childe, kyotani, tsukishima, kenma, tendou, akaashi, ran, wakasa, sanzu, izana, draken, mitsuya, hanma.
"Mine," You gasp at the sting from his teeth bruising your skin. His chest rumbles with a deep growl under your palms. The possessiveness flirting in his eyes made shivers fizzle through your spine. He slides his fingers into your hair, tugging your head back with a yank to expose more of your neck,"Wait! Not there, 's difficult to hide—" Your protest dies down as he mouths hot on your throat,"Who said anything about hiding?"
He bites down on your skin, leaving a prominent mark of his teeth,"You're mine n' the others should know that," You swallow a loud moan as he thrusts deep into you, leaving yet another stinging bite on your shoulder,“Now why don't you scream my name, show everyone who's fucking you so good right now. Hmm?”
porco, eren, bert, reiner, connie, itto, childe, zhongli, kaeya, diluc, gorou, akaza, bakugo, kirishima, yuuta, megumi, sukuna, toji, geto, kyotani, ushijima, atsumu, mikey, baji, wakasa, koko
—Size k!nk
"I can't— 'S hurting," He shushes your whines with a roll of his hips, pushing a few more inches of his throbbing cock in your pussy,"Yes, you can, 'm almost there," His voice is a strained grunt as he struggled with holding back the urge to thrust all the way in. Your thighs trembled as you panted,"Here," His hands engulfed yours, large fingers intertwining with your smaller ones,"I'll hold your hand through it, yea?" Swiping his thumb over the back of your hand, he threw a smile your way.
You clung onto him tightly as he finally bottomed out, squeezing his hand like your life depends on it. A breathless chuckle brushes against your ear,"See, told you that you can." He growls as he pulls out halfway before slamming in roughly. His thick cock dragging heavy against your walls made your mind go numb, "Now take it, take it all, baby."
jean, reiner, bert, erwin, marco, tengen, kyojuro rengoku, kirishima, deku, denki, mirio, bakugo, yuji, gojo, draken, itto, zhongli, thoma, kazuha, osamu, atsumu, bokuto, aran, suna, sakusa, oikawa, lev, asahi
—Breeding k!nk
His hand pressed on your belly, smiling when he felt the movement of his cock inside you,"Be good now." Your whimper is brushed off curtly as he ruts into you with a steady pace. Dragging your nails down his back, you trembled under him, feeling the pangs of your orgasm as he tipped you off with one harsh thrust. He growled as you came with a scream of his name,"You want it inside?"
"Yes daddy, plea—" Before the words can bounce off your tongue, you feel him pounding into you in an unsteady fashion, hasty and deep, "Gonna make you all round n' swollen with my baby, ya'll be a nice mommy f'me yea?" Your pussy tightened at his words. The look in his eyes is somewhere between possessive and protective as he pulls out, grabbing your knees and pushing them up against your chest, "Make sure not to waste it. Even a single drop."
jean, reiner, erwin, rengoku, tengen, shinjuro rengoku, gojo, nanami, toji, bokuto, kita, hinata, ushijima, itto, childe, zhongli, albedo, sanzu, kazutora, kakucho, draken, dabi, keigo
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2022 © all content belongs to druighoney. Do not repost my work anywhere.
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nymphobunnie · a month ago
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+ headcanons. 751 words.
+ contains. hawks, dabi, bakugou.
+ warnings. afab reader, degradation, overstimulation, praise, creampie, fem reader.
+ note from val. we need more fluff!! i will provide that.. eventually.
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he usually likes being on top and having the control, but has no problem letting you ride him
just lays back and enjoys the show
likes it better when you’re facing him because he gets to see all the cute expressions you make
he also gets to see your tits bouncing while you’re grinding on his cock
his hands wander, a lot!
he’ll grab your ass
play with your nipples
and he’ll buck up into you just to see your eyes roll back into your head
want to wipe that smug expression off of his face? edge him
ride his cock and as soon as he’s close to the edge, just stop
his dominant persona will disappear so quick
“Ngh- Why’d you stop? I was so fucking close. Come on, baby. Let me cum, please let me cum. Fuck! I wanna come so bad, I need it!”
keep denying him and he’ll get desperate
when you finally decide to let him cum, overload his senses
tease his nipples, tug on his hair and his wings, bounce on his cock
he’ll cum so hard, he’ll definitely be out of it for a while, his head just clouded with pleasure
$. DABI.
he’s more laid back and chill
this happens when he needs a little stress reliever after a long mission
he likes it more than he’d like to admit
it makes him feel taken care of? in a way
riding dabi is more passionate than rough
you’re the one in control which means he can’t go as hard as he normally does
it also mean you get the chance to admire and explore his body
this is the perfect time for some praise and body worship
compliment him and tell him about how good he makes you feel
leave hickeys and marks all over
he’s not good with words so he’ll show you he’s thankful by fucking your brains out
he’ll wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his chest before thrusting up
he’s not quiet about it either
he’ll moan out your name and throw your praise back at you
telling you about how beautiful you look
“You made me feel amazing, doll. Now let me return the favour, okay?”
another guy who’d rather top you
he gets very impatient, and he’d rather be the one in control
when you’re riding him he’s a huge brat
he’ll tease and taunt you the entire time
“Awh, don’t tell me you’re getting tired already? I knew you couldn’t handle me, babe.”
“I -fuck I don’t feel a-anything. Ngh- Fuck you!”
the only way to shut him up is to occupy his mouth with something else
gag him
the view will be amazing
looking at him underneath you, a drooling mess, trying to pretend he isn’t feeling good
switch up your pace too!
he’ll have such a hard time trying not to prematurely cream
and as soon as he finishes, don’t stop moving
his cock will be super sensitive and he can’t handle overstimulation
if you take off the gag you’ll hear his delicious broken moans, he won’t be able to think or speak
“What was that about not being able to handle you? Hm? Now I’m not stopping until I’m satisfied or until you beg me to, got that?”
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figaraki · 9 months ago
— nsfw // f. reader + various characters 
— dick prints + hand jobs + lap sitting + more
ft. deku, kirishima, shinso, aizawa, hawks, dabi, and shigaraki. 
— 1.1k words
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deku can’t resist playing with you when he realizes how much you want his cock. having caught you staring one too many times, he tugs you into his lap eagerly and holds you close, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, a whisper away from a kiss. he asks you what you need, wants to hear you say every dirty detail until you’re squirming, shy and undone while sitting atop his thighs. 
his kiss is fervent, a fevered prayer as his hands guide your body in his direction. he holds your hips in place nudging your legs open a little further with his knees until he can grind against you, feeling your warm cunt through your panties, already slick against his cock. he chastises you for being such a silly girl; would you have let just any man toy with you like this? don’t you know whose cunt this is?
he’s rough on your clit, finding it quickly and attacking it with practiced fingers, proud at how quickly you’re reduced to little more than a slick, precious mess. he is unforgiving, cruel to your sensitive cunt, but he treats the rest of your body with care, as if you were a doll, holding you close and cooing honeyed words into your ear between each kiss and nibble down your neck, contradictory to each slap of his hips against your parted, trembling thighs.
“that’s my girl... tell me how you want it. you know how to ask, don’t you?”
kirishima isn’t shy when he realizes you’re staring. he laughs good-naturedly, baring sharp teeth in a sweet grin, and pulls you into a warm, playful kiss. he asks if you really want it, or you just like the view. do you wanna touch it, pretty girl? 
gently, he envelopes your hand in his. he guides your palm between your legs, lifting it to meet the bulge in his pants and curling your fingers surely around his half-swollen cock. adoration softens his features, drawing color to his cheeks, and he sucks in a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to yours.
“feel that, baby? that’s for you.”
shinso likes to compromise; you get to wear his hoodie, and he wears the sweatpants - that’s all. it’s good grounds for snuggling, a solid excuse, and nothing beats the sight of your pretty thighs peeking out of his sweatshirt. it‘s not his fault that his sweet little girlfriend needs his hoodie more than he does.
you pad into the bedroom after a sower, clad in little more than that while you towel-dry your hair, to find him lounging on the bed, bare-chested and lazily splayed out on top of your duvet. your eyes follow every curve and plane of his form, down to the cut v at his hips and the dark hair beneath his belly button, trailing lower and lower still, stopped only by the waistband of his sweats, settled dangerously low on his torso.
“see somethin’ you like, honey?”
aizawa finds himself hunched over his desk far too often, loses himself in the paperwork and grading he has to get done, even with you sitting so close. it’s hard to focus with your hand crawling up his leg, grazing his thighs every so often while your curious eyes wander over his lithe, powerful body until he heaves a sigh. 
his shirt rides up as he stretches, pushing away from his desk, baring toned muscle with the slightest motion; he sees you peering up at him, so innocent, sitting cross legged on the floor, and his breath all but catches in his throat when he realizes why your hands start to tremble. 
he doesn’t have to be hard for you to see just how big he really is, and you wait for him to open his arms to you, cooing out an invitation to his lap and promises of a reward for being so perfectly patient for him. 
“c’mere, baby... you want some of this?”
hawks is sure his heart skips a beat once his gaze leaves the book cradled in one single, sure palm, watching you crawl towards him, as ravenous as a starved predator seeking the satisfaction of sinking fangs into the hide of untold prey; the sway of your hips and the curve of your back catch his eye as you cross the bed, lighting an unspeakable hunger inside him. in one fluid motion, he preens, running a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower, and spreads his legs a little wider as you crawl his way, closer and closer still. 
“hey, pretty thing... i see you. ‘s hard for you - come ‘n get it.”
dabi watches you nibble on your lower lip as he checks himself out in the mirror. he’s no longer invested in his own vanity, and instead, peers back at you. your eyes do not meet, and you admire him from behind, sure that if you were to look directly at him your face might be lit aflame in embarrassment.
he is agonizingly irresistible, taking the time to trace a finger over the hard lines of muscle, the jagged scars and the staples that follow his flesh, and when you finally tear your gaze away from him, he turns to you.
clutching his fabric-clad cock loosely, he makes a show of adjusting to the size of it; he wants you to watch.
“you just gonna stand there ‘n drool, or are you gonna put that mouth to good use, doll?”
shigaraki clutches his controller, and his eyes hardly leave his console’s screen despite the familiar sink of the couch under your weight, shuffling as you crawl towards him, watching his gaze intently. deep reds shifting to violet in the cool, unforgiving blue light that casts upon his face, highlighting the shadows of his features. with every swerve and expert maneuver, the muscles in his back flex, rippling towards his biceps, and he knows you’re watching. 
warmth creeps up his neck at the feeling of your stare. he’s played this level enough times to know what’s coming next - he isn’t worried about losing, but he doesn’t expect you to touch him so soon, running soft fingertips over the rough, scarred skin of his shoulders; it doesn’t tear him away from the game, and he ignores the way his cock twitches to life, rearing at the subtlest graze of your hands on his body.
your lips tip up in a small, coy grin, and you lean in, daring him to look away from the screen while your fingers creep up his thigh, whispering a sweet promise to behave on the condition that he doesn’t let you distract him.
he curses, working his lower lip between his teeth when he catches you slinking to the floor, falling to your knees and finally settling your warm hand over his cock, practically throbbing at the first hint of attention.
as much as he wants it, he warns you:
“you shouldn’t start something you don’t intend to finish, dirty girl.”
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dabisqueen · 9 hours ago
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Dabi x Reader
Double Dippin’ Truth or dare Virgin Found Always Yours Fucktoy Repentance Stained All The Way Burnt Iku? Happy Anniversary - Naughty / Nice Meant To Be Don’t Play Me Hold Me Tight Mine The Alleyway The Visit Marked up
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Shigaraki x Reader
Plaything Insatiable Suck It Up Don’t Ignore Me In The Dark
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Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki
Bar Games Bred Compulsion Initiation Mutual Affection A Girl’s Night Out The Captured Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4
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Dabi x Reader x Shoto
Redemption Pt.1-6
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Virgin Drabble Yandere!Dabi x Reader Pro Hero Drabble Pro Hero Touya x Reader Unwound Lady Nagant x Fem!Reader
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ztoji · 2 months ago
# : i wanna be like everybody else and do this link thing so yuh - the links begins under the cut. i will only include my favs for now, maybe more in the future
tags : MDNI, it’s porn - what more to say about it. mentions of: breeding, mean and hard doms, anal and surprise anal, edging and begging, pain. it’s a bit so enter w caution
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TOJI FUSHIGURO - hard dom, can be soft whenever he feels like it - but rather not. any position that makes it easy for your pretty cunt to take his cum as deep as it can is his favorite. his goal for every time you fuck is for you to go dumb, his pretty dumb baby <3
video / video / video / video / video
NANAMI KENTO - teasing soft dom, would rather give than receive from his pretty baby. loves fucking you in missionary or any position that makes him able to see your face. kissing you breathless and making you cum again and again is his favorite thing <3
video / video / video / video / video
GOJO SATORU - teasing switch, however he’d rather be in charge. won’t fuck you until he thinks you’ve begged him enough for it, sometimes you end up with his cum in and on you but your poor and swollen clit is still left unsatisfied. sorry baby, you did not convince him enough <3
video / video / video / video / video / video
GETO SUGURU - dom, either hard or soft depending on his or yours mood at the end of the day. ass man so any position that makes it easy for him to see or feel when your pretty ass come down on his cock. into anal and will, with your consent, do surprise anal. loves the shocked and choked up moans you give him because of it <3
video / video / video / video / video
DABI - mean dom, any position that makes him able to see your surprised face whenever he inflicts pain on you gets him going. his dads genes takes over however and his favorite is the mating press, want to breed your pretty cunt until you end up swollen and round with his babies <3
video / video / video
ZEKE YEAGER - soft dom i’d say, his go to position is doggy or missionary - whatever makes it the easiest for him to see his thick and big dick enter your tight cunt. his heart races a bit extra whenever you grip onto him anywhere whenever it hurts a bit too much or you feel like it’s too much. don’t worry your pretty head though, he knows when it’s too much <3
video / video / video
REINER BRAUN - service dom, does anything to make you cum and happy. his only request is that you wear the pretty lingerie he keeps on buying you, even though you complain that he breaks it too fast. any position that makes it the easiest to touch or press a vibrator on is his go to, preferably you riding him. he wants your pretty bouncing tits in his face <3
video / video / video / video
EREN YEAGER - mean/hard dom, he also loves to inflict pain on you. either by making your poor clit end up throbbing in pain from his ministration or by his hand or belt or whatever to spank your poor ass with. pussy too, whenever he spanks your pretty cunt he loves to get close enough to watch as it spasms around nothing because of the pain from his paddle or hand. will probably end up handcuffing you as to keep your hands away from stopping him <3
video / video / video
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# a/n : heheehehehhahshahah maybe the text don’t match w some of the videos but all in all it’s how i imagine them in bed, obviously i guess lololol
2022 © all content belongs to ztoji. Do not repost my work anywhere.
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cxnicaldreamer · a month ago
she washes all of my wounds for me
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character(s): dabi x fem!reader
word count: 15.2k
cw/tw: major bnha manga spoilers so if you don’t know dabi’s true idenity and don’t wanna know it then this isn’t the fic for u, lotsa hurt/comfort, several mentions of past abuse/trauma, some blood and gore (dabi tending to his scars/new burns), very intense argument that has dabi being an angry boy and breaking furniture and yelling a bunch (but not hurting reader), lots of metaphors and imagery with religious themes (gods and angels), soft desperate-to-be-loved-but-too-scared-to-ask dabi, oral and fingering (f!receiving), praise, body worship, unprotected sex, creampie, the softest smut i’ve ever written, like ridiculously soft
a/n: dedicated to @saintdabi​ since i’ve been torturing them with this piece since september. i hope the wait was worth it bubs <3 also dedicated to the friends i’ve gotten back in touch with recently and accepted me back with open hearts and open minds. y’all are amazing and thank you for allowing me to grow and learn from my mistakes. here’s to hard lessons learned and new beginnings <3
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The first time you call Dabi by his name, he swears he sees a halo floating above your head, glitter cascading down the face he’s spent months memorizing and the body he would consider his home if he deemed himself worthy.
He never knew a thing that has brought him so much pain, so much agony, something he thought was forever cursed to be a shameful thing to hide behind skeletons in dusty closets could sound so sweet, so tender, so gentle.
But he supposes every world that falls out of the mouth of an angel is bound to sound heavenly.
His limbs are tangled with yours, his head is pressed against your shoulder in hopes that maybe you can share the burden that lies on his, his heart has been cut out of his chest and locked in yours for safe keeping, and yet he can’t believe you still manage to find ways to rock him down to his very core. You’re a saint, something so ethereal and otherworldly he never thought his temporal hands would have a chance to touch you, and you still choose a sinner over your throne in the clouds.
It’s a miracle, really, his tainted soul hasn’t scared you off yet. Maybe you’re just as stubborn as he is. Maybe you see him as a charity case. Maybe, just maybe, you do love him and all of his broken pieces no matter how much they bite at your skin and dye them the color of mortals. And the fact that you can say his name with so much purity—as if it really is just another typical Friday evening spent together after a week of trying to bring hero society down and not you changing everything he knows about that goddamn name—just shows how much he doesn’t deserve you.
“What did you call me?” he asks, his face never daring to leave the crook of your neck in fear of you seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, but he can’t hide it from his voice. He knows how he sounds—knows he sounds like a child lost in a world that is far too vast for him to comprehend. Blood rushes in his ears, his hands shake as they grip your hips, blunt fingernails digging into your flesh in a vain attempt to starve off the longing that is filling his bones. It’s consuming him—chewing through calcium and turning it to mere dust between greedy enamel that only knows how to feed on what little affection he receives.
Your fingers lace themselves in his hair, a signal to let him know he’s safe, he’s okay, there’s no reason to sharpen his tongue and forge his armor around you. His heart is starved of love and you’re more than happy to flood it with so much dedication he fears it may burst out of his chest—worthless bones unable to contain all of the emotions he’s tried so hard to keep locked away. “I called you by your name. Is that okay?”
“I don’t know.”
And it isn’t because he doesn’t want you to know that it’s his name. He’s already announced it to the world. Of course, you’re going to know it. It certainly isn’t because he hates the way your lips so easily form the two syllables. It isn’t because he no longer wants to associate himself with the name.
He’s simply afraid of his greedy soul becoming attached to the way you somehow manage to make something that used to cause his skin to crawl now bring his heart a peace he’s never known before he saw your face.
“Can I call you it again?”
And you sound so uncertain, so scared you’ve prodded at bruises you didn’t even know existed, terrified of reopening a wound you’ve tried to stitch up before it bled all over your hands, that he can’t help but pull his face away from its safe space and rest his sapphire eyes on yours. Though they shake, he still runs his fingers along your lower lip and tugs so he can look at your teeth and all of the words sitting in them. You look as nervous as he feels. He’ll never tell you that, however, will never let you know how much power a simple word has over him—how much power you have over him. He’s a murderer with an agenda who has allowed rebellion and anger to corrupt his burning body. He can’t let something as fickle as love distract him from his end goal.
But sometimes, he thinks, it might be okay to allow himself to be loved, especially when you make it seem so simple.
“Just don’t get used to it, sweetcheeks,” he muses, a mask of ease sliding over his face and pulling your body closer to his. “That version of me died long ago.”
“Maybe we can resurrect him,” you whisper into his hair, and it’s then when he realizes he lost control long ago when it comes to you.
And before he can snap back that he killed it himself, you gently kiss the tips of his fingers with a touch so tender, his lungs forget how to function properly.
Still, he manages to mutter, “Some things are better left dead. No use in trying to bring something back to life that wants to stay dead.”
“But what if it never had a chance to live?”
“Then it makes grieving a lot easier. Less memories. Less things to be sad about.”
“Or it makes it more of a tragedy.” And it’s so gentle as how you say it, full of such sorrow for a man you never got to meet. The grief in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings until they’re completely unraveled, put on display for your pure eyes to dissect and analyze, and for once in his life, he isn’t afraid.
Still, only fools allow themselves to be distracted by emotions, and Dabi is anything but a fool. Using his body weight against yours, he easily flips your bodies over so you’re now straddling him, his rough hands ghosting over your soft skin and all of the imperfections he loves so much. His fingers easily find the places that turn you into a whimpering mess above him, and he regains the control he thought he lost long ago.
“C’mon, babe, I had a rough week. Let’s not talk about it, yeah? Let me just make you feel good. Doesn’t that sound so nice? Crying from my cock instead of a stupid name?” Before you can protest, he slips his thumb past your lips and presses it against your tongue, effectively rendering you speechless as you reflexively begin sucking on the digit. “Now that’s a good girl. Let’s not worry about something stupid, okay? Now, what’s my name?”
“Daddy,” you moan out around his hand, drool coating his palm in a lewd way that causes all of the blood to rush to his dick.
“That’s the only name I care about.”
The second time you call Dabi by his name, he remembers why it brings him so much pain.
It was such an odd thing to get angry about. After everything he’s done, the stunts he’s pulled, the countless times he’s burned his body trying to set others ablaze, you choose to get mad at him over the fact that he had to go radio silent for two weeks to keep you out of the attention of those who want to take him down. It’s nothing new, nothing you haven’t been through before. Hell, he’s had to disappear for a month before, and you welcomed him back with open arms.
So why? Why get angry now? Why do your eyes hold such hostility when looking at him? It’s something he’s grown accustomed to from strangers, from heroes who claim to fight for the greater good, from family members who forget the past, from colleagues who don’t agree with his extreme ideals. But from you? Such a thing could bring a man to his knees and grovel for forgiveness.
But not Dabi. Never Dabi. Dabi doesn’t bow to anyone—not even angels with pretty wings and glowing halos.
“What’s the big fucking deal?” he scoffs and plants himself in one of your kitchen chairs, an apple in his hand and a neutral expression on his face to hide the pain burning at his guts. “So what, I had to lay low for a little while? In case that pretty little head of yours forgot: I’m a goddamn villain and you, good samaritan, are not.”
“The big fucking deal, Touya,” you reply through clenched teeth, hands balled in fists and shaking at your sides, “is you just exposed the number one hero in Japan and then disappeared for two weeks. I thought you died. I thought they locked you up and threw away the fucking key.”
The sapphires in his skull alight with a fire you haven’t seen in a while, and he grumbles dangerously low, “Don’t think you can just sling that name around to get a reaction out of me, doll, because you ain’t gonna like what’ll happen.” before taking a bite out of his apple.
Closing the space between your bodies, you smack the cursed fruit out of his hand, demanding his attention be solely on you, your chest pressed against his, noses nearly touching as you bare your fangs down at him in hopes he’ll back down. He doesn’t, of course. Instead, he stands right up, towering over you, chair clattering to the floor from the sheer speed of him getting on his feet, his own fangs on display and covered in blood.
“Oh? What’s gonna happen?” you challenge. “Are you gonna disappear? Make me think you’re dying in a goddamn gutter? Or maybe you’ll reveal your identity on live TV for all of Japan to see, expose your family for the abuse and trauma they put you through, also out the number two hero as a fucking murderer, and then randomly not answer any of my calls or texts for two weeks and leave me here to wonder what the absolute fuck is going on? Oh wait, you already did that.”
When Dabi speaks, it’s a voice he barely even recognizes, a voice he’s only heard in the back of his head and never dared to speak aloud—unhinged, angry, scared. A voice he never, ever thought would be directed toward you. But you’re so stubborn, so hellbent on babying a man who has been on his own since he was a child. Though, he supposes he has no one to blame but himself. He is, after all, a goddamn villain, and you, good samaritan, are not.
“What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” The voice shakes with a fear he’s never wanted to show, a fear of losing you—the only thing he’s ever considered worth saving. “Do you want Endeavor, my dear ol’ dad, to come knocking at your door looking for me? Or maybe you want Hawks sending one of his stupid goddamn feathers in here to eavesdrop on you? Want the entire fucking hero comission here tearing your place apart? Do you want to go to prison because...because—” Because I love you.
It hangs in the air between your heaving bodies—a secret he thought he had kept close to his heart, but, looking into your tear-filled eyes, knows that his heart has always been on his sleeve around you. There’s no hiding anything from you because you’ve spent hours, days, weeks, months listening to all of the whispers trapped inside fragile bones and stringing together memories locked away inside of an unstable mind. You knew him before he even knew himself.
His eyes flit around your face in search of any signs of fleeting, any telltales of abandoning him now that you’ve seen all of his ugliness. Because love is such an ugly thing. Love makes people burn their bodies from the inside out just so someone will finally gaze at their flames. Love makes people spend years with the wrong person in hopes that one day they’ll receive the affections they’ve been craving all along. Love makes people foolish, irrational, idiotic. And Dabi has always considered himself smarter than the average man.
The anger in your eyes has dissipated down to pain, and he isn’t sure which one he preferred more. Your hand comes up to cup his cheeks, and he allows it for a breath’s moment before smacking it away as if it were offensive somehow, the limb falling limply by your side before balling into a fist. Anger returns, and it’s then he decides he’d rather have the anger than the hurt. It’s easier to cause a heart rate to spike than it is to stitch a wound.
“Because why, Dabi? Why the hell would I go to prison?” you dare to ask.
“Because we fuck around and they’d be able to trace you back to me.”
The words fall from his lips faster than he can catch them, splattering against your skin with an acid strong enough to strip you down to the bone, put on display and scared of scarring as it eats away at your body. It’s too late for regrets when he sees your eyes cloud over with an agony he can’t even begin to decipher. It wasn’t supposed to hurt you. It was supposed to piss you off, to rebuild the walls he allowed you to carefully deconstruct. He was supposed to make you hate him, to make you forget what the definition of love is and associate his face with villainous tasks not for the faint of heart.
He wasn’t supposed to hurt you.
“So that’s all this is?” you whisper, lowering your head and tucking your fangs back into your gums for safe-keeping. Your voice is strikingly low, quiet even, but that doesn’t stop each word from lacerating at Dabi’s barely-beating heart. “I’m just some fuck to you? Like the days I’ve spent rubbing your back because you drank too much the night before didn’t mean shit? Or the nights we’ve spent telling each other secrets and talking about a future without corrupted heroes was all just fun and games for you? None of it meant anything? I didn’t mean anything? Is that what you’re saying, Dabi?”
Venom sits in his enamel, eroding his tongue and any semblance of self-control he had.
It burns, it burns, it burns.
He thought he’d be used to burning by now—burning forests, burning bodies, burning himself. To be alive is to set yourself on fire, and Dabi bares the scars of his livelihood. It’s all he knows, all he was taught by a man who was determined to have the brightest flame the world has ever seen.
It burns, it burns, it burns.
Touya died in a self-inflicted fire set ablaze by a child who only wanted his father’s love and attention. Is Dabi going to die by yet another fire set ablaze by a man who doesn’t know how to allow himself to be loved?
It burns, it burns, it burns.
It burns to see you so hurt. It burns to know he’s the reason behind it. It burns to look in your cold eyes and see his own angry reflection in them. It burns to see your fists shake and wonder if you’re imagining driving them into his cheeks. It burns to know that he’s losing another home because even now, after all of these years, he still isn’t good enough.
The table sitting next to him splinters into a thousand little pieces as he drives his fist through the wood, all of his frustration and anger towards himself channeled into his bony knuckles. You don’t even flinch at the action, and that only seems to anger him even more. “I didn’t ask you to do any of that shit! You volunteered, in case you forgot, sweetcheeks. I didn’t come knocking at your door asking you to take care of me. You invited me in. You offered me a place to stay. You gave me food to eat, hot water to bathe in, a bed to sleep in. And what the fuck was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, no thank you, hot stranger, I’ll just stay homeless and sleep with rats in a cardboard box’?”
“You didn’t have to pretend to love me,” you shout back, eyes flitting around like a wild animal, fists trembling at your side, chest heaving as if you just ran a mile. “You didn’t have to rip yourself open and put on this whole ‘poor me, poor Dabi’ act if that’s how you really feel. You could’ve just been some typical useless roommate who pops in every now and then. You didn’t have to pretend. You...you didn’t have to lie to me.”
“Wait, I—”
“Oh, no, no it’s fine, Dabi. It’s fine. I’m the one who got caught up in their feelings. It was my mistake. I put way more thought into this than you did. It’s fine, really.”
But it isn’t fine. None of this is fine. The crystals forming in your eyes aren’t fine. The wounds splitting open on your chest aren’t fine. Your shaking hands and tight knuckles aren’t fine. His bleeding heart isn’t fine. His bulging throat clogged with every word he wished he could say isn’t fine. His fists filled with splitters and emotions aren’t fine.
Nothing is fine.
But you’re so determined to protect the treasure in your chest you thought was safe in the hands of a thief (what a foolish, naive thing to think, really), that you’re willing to believe any lie. As long as it’s sweeter than the bitter truth, it’ll go down easier. Deep down, you know the truth, know it before Dabi runs over to your side with his puppy-dog eyes and dulled flames, have known it since the first time the criminal fell asleep in your arms: he trusts you. And that, for Dabi, means more than something as fleeting as love. Granted, lingering somewhere in that scarred heart of his, you know he loves you. He wouldn’t keep coming around if he didn’t. He wouldn’t steal for you, sneak away from his group for you, try (and fail miserably) to cook for you, include you in his plans, allow you to call him by his name… But loving something as explosive as Dabi means you’re bound to get burned at some point, and you have a funny feeling you’re going to need some salve tonight.
“I...I didn’t mean it like that,” Dabi rushes to reassure you, his hands trying their hardest to find the wounds he caused even though he doesn’t know the first thing about healing. “I just… I’m not the best when it comes to this emotional bullshit, y'know?”
Flinching away from his touch, you whisper, “I think you should go.”
“C’mon, doll—”
“I mean it, Dabi.” Your voice is firmer now, steadier, and you wrap your arms protectively around your body.
“You’re kidding, right?” he incredulously replies. “I didn’t mean it. You’ve gotta believe me, doll. It was just something stupid that slipped out, and you’re gonna kick me to the curb for it? Just toss me aside after everything we’ve been through? After everything I’ve told you? I let you call me my fucking name, and you’re cutting me out over a dumbass mistake?”
And right behind his sapphire eyes, tucked away in the corners of his skull, he can see the white hot flames again, burning away at the tips of his fingers, dancing across his tongue and leaving blisters, new scars decorating his heart and flooding his lungs. He’s choking and sputtering, and though he knows he has the power to stop them, he can’t help but lose himself in the familiar sensation. It feels good to be on fire again. It’s home, it’s all he knows, it’s all he can truly feel—just fire, fire, fire.
Dabi, if nothing, is a man meant to burn. He was born with a flame his body can barely contain, and he’s determined to allow the world to burn with him.
And though he knows how close he was to finding a new home in your bones, and he knows how close he was to having his sins forgiven and the bloods on his hands washed off, he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve any of the smiles flashed at him, any of the seconds spent in your arms, any of the kisses exchanged between hungry mouths, any of the secrets placed on his lips for safe-keeping, any of the butterflies fluttering in his guts.
He was made for destruction, and he’ll die for it as well.
And though he doesn’t want to hurt you, he knows it’s inevitable. Fire doesn’t discriminate against who it burns. He’s living, breathing evidence of that.
When your eyes meet, he can already see the scars forming over them, can see his handprint seared onto the cornea and a new cautionary tale for you: never trust the man with blue eyes to match his blue flames.
“It’s time to go, Dabi,” you state, jaw fixed and twitching with anger.
He sneers down at you, “Don’t you mean Touya?”
“He died a long time ago, remember?”
You might as well slapped him in the face, spat in his eye, curse his name and everything he stands for. It hurts more than his own flames ever will—the ice in your scarred eyes, the gates closing around your soul, your fingers curling in on themselves, your lips sewing themselves shut. You’re closing yourself off to him, and he has no idea what to do now that you’ve changed all of the locks and threw away the keys. He’s over, done with, nothing more than the same traumatized child willing to burn himself alive just to have someone look at him for more than a second.
He’s Touya Todoroki: young, naive, driven, boisterous, eager to see the world and be a part of it, ready to prove himself worthy of being born.
He’s Dabi: self-destructive, sadistic, crude, violent, determined to tear the world apart, ready to prove how hypocritical heroes truly are.
He’s neither: scared, lost, unsure if he ever really was any of that, not quite the boy who wanted his father’s love but not quite the man who wanted to destroy him, unsteady on his feet as he tries to find his place in this ever-shifting world.
He’s both: driven, self-destructive, naive, eager to see the world, determined to tear it apart, ready to prove himself worthy of being born and show how hypocritical heroes truly are.
He doesn’t know who he is anymore, who he wants to be.
All he knows is you’ve given up on him, and that hurts more than any flame that has touched his skin before.
He leaves without another word, no more venom flung at you to add to the scars he’s left, no more furniture broken with shaking fists and scabbed knuckles, no more fiery eyes and sharp tongues. Just a man who has lost the only home he ever truly had.
The third time you call Dabi his name, he learns that love, as dangerous as it is, can heal even the deepest of wounds, and he’s ready to rid himself of the scars that have haunted his skin for as long as he dares to remember.
He isn’t sure how he’s wound up in front of your apartment, rain pouring down on him because his life was never a cliche until he met you, alcohol sitting heavy in his stomach and grounding his feet, new burns spreading across his abdomen and tainting what little skin he has left. He doesn’t want you to see them. He doesn’t want your fingers to trace the spaces his flames have violated and stained with their hatred. He doesn’t want your eyes to flash with pity as they scan him. He doesn’t want your lips to turn down into a frown when you open your door and see his soaked body, crooked grin on his face because everything about him is a little crooked, old staples missing and new ones in new places, his chest cracked open and put on display for you.
He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to get out of this surprise visitation. A part of him hopes to see you angry, because if you’re angry you care, and he isn’t sure how fit he is for a world where you no longer care about him. A part of him hopes to see you apathetic, because that would confirm the belief he isn’t worth anything anymore, and that would make destroying himself a little easier. Another, smaller part of him, hopes to see you happy, to see relief wash your features and erase the fight you two had about love and other fickle things. It might be impossible at this point, but he’s never been one for easy goals.
All Dabi truly knows, however, is he wants to see you. It’s really as simple as that, and though he isn’t a simple man and doesn’t like simple things, the desire to see you is that—simple. It’s been haunting him since he stumbled out of your apartment blinded with anger and fear. How long has it been since he’s stood here? A week? Two weeks? A month? Time becomes such a messy thing when it’s spent trying to find the next surefire way to burn your bones.
Despite the clothes clinging to his skin, he feels naked, stripped of all of his armor and put on display for you to use and dispose however you please. Dabi isn’t the type to come crawling back to places he isn’t wanted. He’d much rather fake his own death and fly under the radar for years until he’s long forgotten about. But Dabi has also never been the type to look at the stars and try to find someone’s name written in them. He’s never been the type to try to find a face in a sea of people bustling about their days without having to worry about how they’re going to make the world know about them. He’s never tried to find meaning in the clouds or why some planets revolve around stars together while others just crash into each other.
But then he met you and suddenly, he cared. He cared about why some birds hid from the rain while others embraced it. He cared about why stars liked to hide and where they disappeared to. He cared about why some wounds healed and served as a cautionary tale and why others stuck around and served as a personality trait. He cared about Touya Todoroki—the boy whose only dream was to be what his father wanted and to be loved by those who were in his life. And that, he thinks, is the scariest thing he’s ever done. To hate is easy, it’s simple, and though he’s not a simple man and doesn’t like simple things, he loved it. He loved being able to burn those who hurt him and have his world be as simple as: if it isn’t beneficial, turn it to ashes. Black and white and blue. That’s all it was.
Then he saw you look at him as if he had personally strung the stars in the sky for you and suddenly, the universe seemed a lot bigger than sick mothers and neglectful fathers.
He still doesn’t quite understand it and, truth be told, he doesn’t think he ever wants to understand it. For once in his life, he’s okay with leaving this mystery unsolved. He’s okay with having more questions than answers. He’s okay with having an unfinished puzzle and not turning every piece of furniture upside down looking for the right one to complete the picture.
As long as he has you, he’s okay with finding out who Touya could have been before he burned him to ashes.
The light from your apartment floods his sensitive eyes when you swing the door open, and he almost misses the confusion that flashes across your face before you settle for a guarded expression.
“What are you doing here?” It, like most things, is a simple question, but it still hurts nonetheless, especially when paired with your arms crossing over your body and your tone pointedly flat.
And, like most things, the answer is simple: “I wanted to see you, baby.”
You quirk an eyebrow up, but the rest of you remains emotionless, detached. “Baby? That’s a new one.”
He grins. “I’ve been trying out a lot of new things lately.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“Oh, you know, calling you baby. Sleeping by myself. Not killing everyone who pisses me off. Admitting when I fuck up.”
What little bemusement you allow to seep through is promptly sealed shut behind a frown, and you wrap your arms tighter around your torso in an effort to protect yourself from his charm. “You can’t just show up here and apologize and think that fixes everything. You really hurt me, Dabi.”
“But you haven’t heard the other new things I’ve been trying.”
You huff, knowing once Dabi has his sights on something it’s near impossible to distract him. He’s headstrong, determined, and that’s one of the many reasons you fell in love with him (and got burned for it). “Fine, I’ll listen. But we aren’t doing it out here in the rain. I’m cold and tired and want to finish my tea.”
For the first time in weeks, you allow him in your home, and it pains him how much hasn’t changed. While his entire world was falling apart, the same shoes have stayed by your front door, the same throw blanket has been strewn across the back of your couch, the same kettle sits on your stovetop, the same jackets hang on your coat rack, and you’ve even managed to find the same table to replace the one he smashed. Your life has remained the same without him and that is something worth shedding a tear over if he could.
He tries to sit on your couch, but you quickly stop him. “You’re soaking wet,” you reason, and motion for him to go to the bathroom. “I think I have some of your old clothes around here somewhere. Wait there and I’ll bring them to you.”
Thankfully, your compassion has remained the same as well. As he stands in your small bathroom built for one person, rain and the last of his ego dripping off of him, he’s reminded of the first time your paths crossed, when he passed out in an alleyway due to overuse of his quirk and woke up in a bed that smelled like tea leaves, old books, and love. He remembers wandering into the kitchen and finding you humming to yourself, a robe wrapped tightly around your body, two mugs of tea on your table, comfort radiating off of your skin and flooding the tiny space. He remembers how high you had jumped when you realized he had woken up, how quickly you rushed to make sure he knew where the bathroom was and how to properly work your shower so he may bathe, how you had a plate full of food ready for him when he returned to your kitchen a clean man.
He remembers asking you why let a strange, scary-looking man who was unconscious in a shady alley sleep in your home, and you simply replied over your mug, “because you look like someone who doesn’t receive help often.” It was so simple then, and he wasn’t used to simplicity. So ke kept coming around, trying to unravel the mystery of why such a sweet person would help such a tainted man, kept asking questions and prodding at your brain in hopes that maybe he’d find out you’re just as sick as he is. That was never the case, of course. It was and always has been as simple as you being a good person and him being someone in need of a home.
He’s drunk and nostalgic, which is not a good combination for men with shattered souls and too many scars to keep track of, and generous people with giving hearts and healing words. And although a part of him feels as if he’s taking advantage of the kindness you have shown him, he can’t bring himself to feel guilty. Maybe it’s the selfish animal in his heart that refuses to release its sharp teeth. Maybe it’s how even after all of these months spent together, you manage to find a way to surprise him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s finally ready to accept the love you’ve been offering him. Whatever it is that’s fueling this selfish desire to lock you away in his chest, nestled right between his lungs, safe from the others with sharp teeth and even sharper tongues, he’s allowing it to roam free and take whatever it wants.
He strips himself of his clothing just in time for you to knock at the door, your gentle voice ringing through the wood. “I found some clothes.”
“Well, bring ‘em in,” he replies.
“Are you naked?”
He rolls his eyes, though you can’t see him. “C’mon, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“Just open the door, baby.”
His voice is soft as he says it—so soft, in fact, you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly. But you did, and you’re more than aware of the fact that you’re about to see him soaked down to the bone and as naked as the moon in the sky. Hesitantly, you open the door just enough to accommodate your arm, and right when you slide your handful of clothes through the crack, Dabi’s fingers brush against yours. Electricity runs down your skin—hot, familiar, exhilarating. It steals the breath from your lungs, makes you feel as if the wooden floor beneath your feet is shifting, reminds you of how good it felt to have his rough skin pressed against yours. It’s far too tempting to rip the door open and drink in the sight of the man who holds your heart in his scarred palm, and if you still weren’t so hurt over his words, you might have. You almost think Dabi is going to do it, but, much to your surprise, he doesn’t.
“Do you mind closing the door? The draft is a little cold.” He isn’t being ornery about it. There’s no sneer to his voice. He’s almost...kind about it. Tender. Something you never thought you would associate with the man who just weeks ago plotted to murder his younger brother in order to seek revenge on his father.
You nearly slam in the door in your haste to close it and stutter out, “S-Sorry!” before scrambling to your couch. Whoever this Dabi is, you aren’t sure. The last time you saw him, he was angry, hurt, ready to burn everything he has ever known in a vain attempt to feel something other than the pain throbbing in his chest. He was a wounded animal lashing out at anything that dared to try to get close to him. He was a jaded man who never thought himself worthy of kindness. He was impulsive, impatient, self-destructive, and, above all else, vengeful. Whoever has come knocking at your door is not the man who walked out of it. This man, whoever he may be, is humble, quiet, hesitant, and retrospective.
He’s also drunk and has been out wandering in the rain.
Dabi joins you on the couch before your mind can start spinning in circles, his white hair still sticking to his face and droplets cascading down his face, sapphire orbs shining with something you can’t quite put your finger on but still shakes you down to your core. He isn’t iraite. He isn’t breaking furniture or complaining about Shigaraki’s next foolish move or ranting about how Endeavor has foiled his latest plan or about how he doesn’t trust Hawks and all of his easy smiles and charming laughter. He’s calm, his hands resting on his knees and eyes resting on your face, searching for something—a sign you’re ready to listen. And despite the wounds you’re still tending to and the bandages on your skin from all of the venomous words he flung at you, your heart and mind are open and willing to take whatever he wants to give you.
It’s an odd feeling to know you’re still okay with this man and all of his thick walls and bloodied hands even after he’s shown you the part of him he keeps buried underneath sneers and a mask of disinterest. Before his temper was turn towards you, you never believed him capable of murder, of violence, of all of those plans he stays up late stringing together and comes home battered and bruised from trying to execute. Before you saw how easily his hands can destroy, he was simply Dabi: the man you found face down and drowning in his own trauma. Now there’s burn marks on your furniture and soul in the shape of his palms, and though you aren’t too sure where to take the next step, you’re still wanting to take it regardless.
Topaz flits from your lips and back up to your eyes, the crystals dripping from his snow hair causing him to look ethereal. A hesitant Dabi is a rare sight but a beautiful one, nonetheless. “Do you want—”
“You must be cold,” you blurt out, shocking the both of you.
He cocks an eyebrow and the smirk you’re all too familiar with returns to his cracked lips. You’re nervous, fluttery, nerves causing you to act more erratic and unsure of yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, cute how you go from so stubborn and closed off to a school girl trying to keep the butterflies in her stomach from crawling up her throat. It’s also a relief to see you get jumpy around him like you used to before he kissed you until your minds turned to mush and your fingers tangled with his hair and he pinned you down to your mattress, bodies tangled so tightly together he wasn’t sure where he began and where you ended. You still care. “Yeah, rain is pretty cold.”
You nod a little too eagerly. “I’ll make you some tea.”
“You go do that, doll.”
“And I can get you a blanket.”
“If you want.”
“And I can make you some food.”
“Sure. I could eat.”
“And I’ll… I’ll be back!”
“Don’t be gone too long.”
He watches you leave with a grin full of amusement and affection, and that does nothing to help ease the anxiety rolling around in your gut. You feel clumsy, skittish, for all of the wrong reasons. You want to kiss him. You want to shake the water out of his shaggy hair and pull on the ends of it while his lips attack your neck. You want to wrap your legs around his waist and feel his thighs flex underneath you as he tries to pull you as close as possible. You want to hear all of those breathless moans that tumble from his lips whenever you nibble on his collarbone. You want to lose yourself in him. Forget the anger, the hurt, the nights spent shivering because you didn’t have him next to you, the mornings spent drinking tea alone and making enough food for one person. He’s back, and you’re almost certain he was forgiven before the moon disappeared from the sky the night he left.
You can feel his eyes burning a hole in your back as you prep your kettle to boil some water, watching the way your hands shake as you turn the burner on and how you nearly drop the lid to it, and you know for a fact he has that same smirk on his lips. Why are you so damn nervous around him now? He’s buried himself in you too many times to count, has whispered the most obscene things in your ear, has seen you at your most raw and unfiltered, and now you’ve turned into a neurotic mess? Why is your stomach doing somersaults and why is your heart slamming itself in your ribcage and why does your throat feel too large for your neck?
Because this Dabi isn’t the Dabi who left. You know in the deepest parts of your guts, past the pain and the hesitance, whoever is sitting on your couch is not the man who broke your table. And even if there’s alcohol swimming in his veins and an ego in need of nursing, there’s something alarmingly self-aware twinkling in his sapphires, something that lets you know he knows. He knows he hurt you. He knows he wasn’t in the right. He knows he bit the only hand that was willing and wanting to feed him. He knows your knuckles still bare his teeth marks. He knows it’s going to take more than a simple fuck to make everything okay again. Because, for the first time, it isn’t going to be simple with you. It isn’t going to be as simple as him needing a bandage and you pulling out a first aid kit. It isn’t going to be as simple as him being angry at the world and you helping him get lost in the stars. And he’s okay with it. He’s okay reopening any wounds that didn’t heal quite right. He’s okay with spilling every single word sitting in his guts. He’s okay complicating himself if that means making things easy for you. Because, like almost everything else that has to do with you, you’re simply worth it.
He speaks up while you’re digging through your closet trying to find a blanket suitable for him, his voice laced with an odd mixture of hesitance and bemusement. “While you’re being all fidgety and stuff, can I tell you the other new things I’ve been trying?”
“If you want.” You echo his previous words, careful to keep the anxiety out of your voice, as you prepare to make a meal for him.
Though you can’t see him, he smiles—a real smile for once. No sarcasm or scorn buried underneath taut muscle. A genuine smile with genuine happiness and genuine love. As scary as it is, it’s something he could get used to if he doesn’t keep himself on a leash, but he thinks he might be okay with that. “I looked at myself in the mirror the day after I left.”
That stops all of your tense movements in their tracks. Mirrors have been Dabi’s worst fear since the day you met him, because they contain his worst enemy. He’s avoided them, broken them, used the shards to puncture his heart and lacerate his lungs. He’s covered them, screamed at them, tried to erase them from his memory. To look at himself in the mirror is to face himself headon, and that’s something you never thought you’d see. “How was that?”
He chuckles, deep and sorrowful, a sound that comes from the bittersweet emotions he’s destroyed his feet trying to run from. “I fucking hated it. I’m a real scary looking bastard, eh?”
“No.” The word tumbles out of your mouth with a resoluteness Dabi never thought himself worthy of. Your eyes are full of conviction once they meet with his, your jaw set in the way that lets him know there isn’t anything that will change your mind.
It’s adorable how deeply you think he deserves love even after he’s shown you how much it can hurt, and he can’t help but chuckle at how quickly your demeanor can change when it comes to matters like self-hate and forgiveness. “Did you lose your eyesight while I was gone? Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I ain’t the prettiest face around here.”
You chew on your lip, careful that the words that leave your mouth help soothe the wounds on his mind. “I don’t care about your scars or your staples. I don’t care about the blood and gore. None of that matters.”
“Oh? Then what does? Because last I checked, society only likes pretty people with pretty quirks and pretty lives. Society doesn’t give a flying fuck about ugly bastards like me with ugly quirks and ugly lives.”
Dabi doesn’t expect you to answer, but you’ve always found ways to surprise him. The food on the kitchen counter is long forgotten about as you close the space between you two, your body just mere inches away from his. It’s the closest you’ve been since that night, and he has to fight the urge to pull you down on his lap. He doesn’t need to, apparently, because you’re practically sitting on it as your fingers trace over his brow bone with a touch so gentle, he could weep right then and there.
“What matters,” you whisper, “is how much your eyes shine when you laugh.” And then, your finger is tracing the corners of his mouth, ghosting over his lips. “What matters is how soft your lips are when they’re pressed on me.” And then, down the hollow of his throat down to his collarbone. “What matters is how you always smell like stale cigarettes and campfires.” And then, down his chest and right on the beginning of his abdomen. “What matters is how safe I feel when you’re holding me.” And finally, your palm rests right above his left peck, right over his hammering heart. “What matters is your passion, your drive, your determination. I don’t give a damn what society thinks about you. I think you’re beautiful, Touya.”
He knows it’s technically impossible but he swears he feels fireworks in his chest—bombastic, ribcage-breaking, heart-shattering, soul-breaking passion tearing his muscles apart until all that’s left is a body full of love. He loves you, and you think he’s beautiful, and he’s almost certain that, in this moment, everything is right in the world. “Can this beautiful man kiss you?” he breathes out, his eyes pleading with you to allow him to show you just how you’ve managed to piece him back together.
“Only if I can kiss him back,” you shyly reply.
If Dabi ever doubted the existence of angels, he knows now how terribly wrong he was, how utterly pessimistic and downright ignorant it was to doubt ethereal lives when he has one right here in his arms, sweet lips pressed against his, legs wrapped around his waist, arms pulling him closer and closer until your chests are touching and there’s not an inch of space between you two. Flashes of gold and thrones and feathers cross his mind as he breathes you in—all of the things he used to deny but now longs for. He wants to rule heaven with you, wants to make new worlds where other angels can’t follow and look down at him in disapproval, where he can’t hear their conspiratorial whispers of the saint who fell in love with the sinner, where he’s free to love you and worship you and allow his temporal hands roam your celestial body.
Dabi is a man who was born of corruption and greed and has fallen head over heels in love with purity and selflessness, and though he doubts he will ever think of himself worthy of such things, it won’t stop him from indulging. He is, after all, a bit greedy himself.
When his tongue brushes against yours and the taste of beer explodes in your mouth, you’re uncomfortably aware of the fact that only one of you is sober. You pull away, much to yours and his disappointment, but rest your forehead on his so you’re never too far from him. If you could, you would sew yourself to his skin, bury yourself in his bones and make a home out of his veins, play a prayer of love and devotion on loop so he knows that no matter how much heaven may shun sinners and all of their scars, you’re capable of a little rebellion every now and then.
But for now, while intoxication is a factor in a matter that should be dealt with a clear mind, you’ll settle for holding his hand.
“Dabi, you’re—”
“Drunk,” he finishes for you, a sort of sad smile on his face. “If it makes you feel better, I’m way more sober now.”
It’s a joke to help calm the guilt rolling around in your guts, you know it, and you brush your fingers against the corner of his mouth, wondering how long it’s been since he’s smiled and how often he might now. “Will you regret any of this in the morning?”
It stabs him right in the heart to hear such a question full of hesitance and apprehension asked so quietly, if he weren’t so dead set on catching every word that falls from your lips he might not have heard you. He feels the way your shoulders shake, can tell you’re just barely holding back tears, and he presses his hand to the back of your head to guide your face to the crook of his neck where you’re free to cry and hiccup however much you need. “I could never regret anything when it comes to you, baby. Why the tears?”
“I just…” A shaky sigh falls from your lips, your tears mixing with the droplets still clinging to his hair. “I thought I lost you before and now you’re back and I know technically you’re drunk but I know how sincere you are and it’s all just so—”
His fingers begin to massage circles into your shoulder blades, and he presses his lips to the side of your head, nose full of your scent and trying its best to burn it into his memory. “Babe.”
“Y-Yeah?” you hiccup.
“Fuckin’ breathe. It’s okay. It’s all okay. You didn’t lose me. I’m right here, baby, right fuckin’ here, and I’m not going anywhere. Not again. I fucked up, okay? I fucked up real bad and I know I did. I promise you, I’m not really drunk at all. I mean, I had a good buzz going on when I first showed up, but being here with you, talking with you, sobered me up real quick.”
And he sounds so genuine, so full of love and honesty, you can’t help but tangle your fingers in his hair, pull him so close you can feel his heartbeat against yours, bury your face right next to his jugular and commit mortality to memory. You cry until your eyes are almost swollen shut. You cry until your heart feels too large for your chest. You cry until your breath is a stuttering mess.
You cry for Dabi and all of the pain he’s carried around with him and no place to put it. You cry for Touya and all of the homes he’s lost and all of the times he was never enough. You cry for yourself and how deeply you love a man who only believes himself worthy of destruction. You cry for lost potential and empty promises of better tomorrows. You cry for broken furniture and shattered hearts because no one ever warned you love wasn’t easy. You cry and cry and cry until your voice is hoarse and the only thing you can taste is the salt cascading down your face.
And Dabi holds you through it all. His hands run up and down your back, gently rocking both of your bodies to a tune only he knows, his lips pressed against your head in hopes you can feel the adoration seeping out of his body. He allows you to unleash all of the emotions he’s stirred up in you. He catches every tear that falls from your eyes, thankful he’s unable to shed his own.
Once the world has stopped shifting and you’re able to steady yourself, he carries you to your bed without another word, a tender kiss against your forehead before he turns to leave.
“Where are you going?” you ask, barely managing to whisper.
He smiles down gently at you. “You left some food out. I was gonna put it away then crawl in bed.”
“Don’t care. Come to bed now.”
“Your wish is my command.”
With your face tucked away in his chest, your arms wrapped around his torso, and your legs tangled with his, Dabi falls into a peaceful sleep for the very first time since he learned that family will always be your first disappointment.
The fourth time you call Dabi by his name, he finally allows himself to drown in the emotions he’s spent his entire life learning to swim away from.
The sinner wakes up with angel feathers around his body, the spot where your body laid empty and cold but scent still clinging onto the sheets. He quickly finds himself in a familiar routine of glaring at the nosy sun peeking through curtains and violating his eyes, cursing his nocturnal nature and how much easier it is to be himself in front of the moon and stars. After contemplating if going back to sleep is worth it (it isn’t), he drags his body out of bed and into a warm shower. The smell of your shampoo is somewhere to be found in the leftover steam of your own shower, and he smiles to himself when he remembers where he’s at: home. And it isn’t a home where dishes are broken and voices crack and plead. It isn’t a home where fear sits in the living room and stress waits for him in the kitchen. It isn’t a home where he’s expected to be an adult with obligations without ever knowing what it’s like to be a child full of wonder.
It’s a home where angels sing in the kitchen as they cook breakfast while he tries to wash his sins away in the bathroom and that, he thinks, is the closest to perfection he will ever get.
He walks into the kitchen with a towel around his waist and his scars on full display—new ones angry and red, old ones melancholy and purple—and, for once, he isn’t afraid. He doesn't try to hide them under baggy clothes and jeering words. He allows your eyes to run over them and wince at the fresh one and squint at the old ones, because he knows you aren’t disgusted by them, you don’t pity him, you accept them as they are—reminders of times where he strayed too close to the fire.
“Morning, baby,” he says around a yawn as he sits at your table.
You smile softly at him and how easy he finds it to be around you. “You’re really laying the ‘baby’ stuff on thick, huh?”
“I mean, you only let me call you a cockslut when you’re being one, and I don’t see you on your knees right now so…”
Flustered, you quickly turn back around to tend to the salmon and eggs you’ve been cooking, probably adding far too much salt but trying to not pay attention to how much your hands are shaking. This causes Dabi to laugh—gentle, deep, melodic in a sense, carefree and raspy. “Oh, so you think you’re Mr. Funny Man, hm?” you challenge, though you don’t dare face him.
“I think I’m downright hilarious, baby.”
“Well, that makes one of us.”
“Whatever you say, baby.”
You swat a tea towel at him, which he quickly dodges with a grin, and you roll your eyes. “You aren’t giving up any time soon, are you?”
“Do I ever? Baby.”
“Point taken.”
Breakfast is eaten in comfortable silence—Dabi radiating a happiness you never thought possible, you soaking it all in with a sense of relief. He takes his time as he eats, as if he’s savoring every flavor crawling around his tongue, contemplative as his teeth shred his food to tiny pieces. You admire the sight of his furrowed brow and bright eyes as you sip on your tea, unsure of what to say and worried what you do want to say will scare him away. So rather than choking on the words sitting in the back of your throat, you take this opportunity to inspect his body. After all, it isn’t every day Dabi is comfortably shirtless, especially in the sun’s rays where all of his flaws are visible for anyone and everyone to see.
You spot the newer burns sitting close to his hips, not quite as wrathful as the older ones resting on his chest, but still containing a torment you don’t think you’ll ever understand firsthand (and you doubt he’d want you to). When he first began showing up at your doorstep and all you knew about him was he look different than anyone else you knew, you used to tell yourself stories about his scars—how he got them, how painful they were, which ones are newer than the others, which ones were self-inflicted and which ones were done by a resentful hand, how they all come together for form a man who’s become a sort of expert when dealing with macabre things.
If it bothers him to have your attention so focused on things he tries so hard to hide, he’s never said anything about it. When he first noticed how fixated you were on his scars, he cupped your chin and tilted your head up, forcing you to look at his sapphires full of curiosity and hesitance.
“Little distracted there, doll,” he observed.
“Do they hurt?”
He blinked, unsure of what to make of your harmless tone. “Not really. If I get new ones, they hurt like a motherfucker, but I get used to it after a few days.”
“Are they hard to take care of?”
“No. I’ve been taking care of them for a while now so it’s not a big deal.”
Your fingers gently traced the staples on his collarbone, careful to not pluck at any, not a hint of disgust to be found on your angelic face. “Can you teach me how to?”
He jolted back and immediately guarded himself behind walls high enough to reach the heavens. Suspicion clouded his eyes, laced through his tone and made his muscles more rigid. “Why?”
“So I can help take care of them,” you replied, as if everything were really that simple, and Dabi swore he saw a flash of angel wings fluttering on your back.
Back in the present, Dabi watches your eyes fill with nostalgia, a small smile on your face as your fingers trace the rim of your mug. He thinks he can stare at you all day if you would allow him to. He thinks he could spend the rest of forever memorizing all of the expressions you make as you try to dissect mortality and why seraphic beings are so fascinated with it. He knows that eventually, sacrifices will have to be made and one of you will lose themself serving a god who doesn’t like those in love with vengeance while the other one tries to pluck their own eyes out so they may be blind to how much suffering they’ve caused. But, for now, he’s happy being the fool in love who flew too close to the sun.
“Little distracted there, baby,” he chuckles, gathering up your dishes and placing them in the sink. “Am I just that handsome?”
“You never did teach me how to help take care of them,” you reply with a somber tone.
The mug he’s holding nearly slips out of his hand when your words reach his ears. So you really were thinking about morality and all of its ugliness. He tries his hardest to keep his voice light, to not show how much he envies angels and how easy ignorance is for them. “They aren’t yours to take care of.”
“No, but I’d like to help.”
“Because…” Because I love you. There is it again, that goddamn sentence that always manages to stick itself to the roof of your mouth. You’re choking on it, trying to allow oxygen to flow through lungs that are turning inside out because you can’t seem to find the courage to say you love a sinner in a world that shuns blood and fire. Acid fills your throat as your lips try to form the words burning at your gums. I love you, I love you, I love you. Why is it so hard to say? Why is love such a scary thing even though it presents itself as a cure for everything wrong in the world? Why does your kitchen seem smaller than before? Why are there black spots dancing in front of your eyes? Why is Dabi so afraid of anything he can’t burn and why are you afraid of giving him a reason to leave?
“Because…?” he prompts you, oblivious to your inner turmoil.
You try to flash an easy smile at him, though you fear it may look strangled. “Because I don’t want you to bleed everywhere if you miss a spot.”
That certainly isn’t the answer he was expecting given the way a chuckle stutters out of his throat, but he finds himself laughing until he’s nearly bent at the waist and struggling to catch his breath. It’s a beautiful sound, one full of long-lost joy and too many cigarettes smoked under a full moon, one that cups your heart and kisses it tenderly. “Well, I don’t want to ruin any more furniture.” he hums. “Better teach ya the secrets to my staples then and how to make this mug so pretty.”
After dishes have been washed and food has been stored away, you usher Dabi back to the bathroom and pull out the first aid kit you’ve learned to keep handy. He guides you with a firm hand and soft voice, tells you how to properly disinfect the burns and where to place the staples so they hold everything together, teaches you how to keep your fingers from shaking and how to not wince whenever metal punctures skin. Keeping someone from falling apart shouldn’t feel so intimate, but with every staple placed into taut skin a jolt of something warm, something precious, someone so fragile you’re afraid if you acknowledge it it’ll fall apart, spreads across your chest and causes sunlight to pour out of your fingertips.
With every brush of your fingers, the sinner is slowly learning to admire sunrises and how they highlight all of the things he tries to hide in the night. It’s not an easy task, and he struggles to fight the urge to find solace in galaxies littered across the sky, but if it means he can admire your face under the rays then he’ll bear through it all. You’re so close to him—the closest you’ve been in weeks. He can see every eyelash, every pore, every bit of stardust swimming under your skin and all of the oceans running through your veins. His body might contain destruction, but yours contains creation—the secrets to all of the universes and how to create life out of pure love. And maybe it’s a bit of an oxymoron to have such opposing things crash together, but Dabi is not a simple man and he doesn’t like simple things.
“Can I tell you the other new things I’ve been trying?” he asks timidly.
You look up in a pair of frightened sapphires and nod slowly, shyly. “Yes.”
Long, slender fingers stop your hand from placing another staple into him, and rough lips kiss all of the suns in your palms. His voice shakes when he speaks, nearly as much as his soul does, but he still forces the words out. “I’ve been trying out this...thing. It’s pretty fuckin’ scary. To be honest, I never thought I’d try it. And to be even more honest, I thought it was too late for me to try it. I thought it came with an expiration date, y’know? Like those credit card offers you get in the mail that say some bullshit like, ‘This offer is only good for the next two weeks! Sign up now!’ But recently, I learned that now is the perfect time to try it.”
“And what is it?”
The air is filled with anticipation, with words that have sat in throats for far too long, with feelings that have been locked away in chests, with pasts that have refused to die, with futures that may never live, with closets overfilling with skeletons. It’s suffocating, terrifying, absolutely world-shattering. But with your gift of creation, Dabi can destroy as much as he wants without worrying about leaving any new nasty scars on planets. He’s free to be himself, to unleash as much fire as he wants, and you’ll be right behind him, sweeping up ashes and leaving life in their wake.
Once the word drips from his tongue and lands right on your chest, the world stops turning. Stars can no longer be found and the moon buried itself in a black hole and oceans stop their waves. Angels have stopped fussing about forgiveness and gods are no longer worried about who deserves to be smited next. The entire universe and beyond has ceased to expand because all that matters in this moment is how Dabi’s heart is no longer caged and you’re no longer afraid to play with fire.
Tears fill your eyes before you can stop them, and Dabi brushes his thumb across your eyelashes. “You love me.” It isn’t a question, and it certainly doesn’t need an answer, but he offers you one anyway.
“I love you, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to realize.”
If the sinner didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he heard the angels begin to sing. But trivial things like sins and purity, heaven and hell, angels and demons, don’t matter because none of them could ever feel as freeing as loving you. He’s no longer bound by the past and all of its bloodshed, and he thinks it’s okay to forget it sometimes. His fingers shake as they brush tears away you didn’t even know you have shed, careful to not taint your divine skin with his infernal hands, a shy sort of smile on your lips as you pull his body closer to yours. He protests that you’ll get blood on your clothes, and you shush him by telling him you’ve always been fascinated with mortals anyway, and neither of you are sure who initiated it but your lips are slotting together and you remember why heaven never felt like home.
Before you could get lost in how good it feels to not have to worry about serving a vengeful god, Dabi picks you up and carries you to your bedroom, chest flush against yours and heart beating in sync with yours. He’s gentle as he lays you on your bed, careful to not disturb your wings and all of the feathers falling from your back. His fingers graze your thighs, and for a moment he fears he may be cast down to the deepest pits of hell before he’s able to worship you the way you deserve. But then, you pull his face down to yours and kiss him as if he hasn’t spent his entire life in search of his next big sin and, suddenly, hell is worth being dragged through as long as it means he gets to hold your hand.
“I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you, angel.”
Shaky fingers trace his jawline as if he were going to crumble to desk any second. “I love you, too. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. Everything is okay.”
He didn’t even realize he had blood streaming down his face until you gently wiped it away, fingertips glistening with newly formed rubies and trembling as you try to get rid of any evidence of sadness. Rather than trying to voice all of the emotions crawling up his throat, he kisses the wet pads of your digits, a silent thank you for teaching him that even the most corrupt of souls can be saved. Cracked lips trace over soft skin, and though it serves as a reminder of the different worlds you serve, the villain can’t help but lose himself in all of the pretty little noises falling from your mouth. It’s hypnotizing how you can make something as simple as a few breathy moans sound like the same harps in the clouds he’s spent his entire life trying to run away from. He’s barely taken your shirt and pants off and you’re already heaving underneath him—the visual reassurance he needed to know that you’ve been waiting for this moment just as eagerly as he had. And right as he lowers his head towards your thighs to provide the relief you’ve both needed, you stop him short, trembling hand finding purchase in his snowy locks.
“Angel…?” Sapphires full of questions scan your face, but he waits for you to speak, waits for your explanation, waits for you. He’s spent his entire life waiting for someone—something—like you, what’s a few more seconds?
You look hesitant—eyes darting around the room, incisors digging into your lower lip, heart thumping in the hollow in your throat—and, if Dabi didn’t know any better, scared. “I...uh...I’m unprepared.”
He blinks up at you. “I’m not following. What do you mean ‘unprepared’? No condoms? I’m fairly certain I’ve fried all of my swimmers so there’s a very small chance you’ll get knocked up, and I promise you no one has touched me in years so there’s no risk of any infections. There’s always Plan B too if I still have a few stubborn lil’ guys desperate to create a crotch goblin and—”
“No,” you cut him off, the heels of your hands digging into your eyes. “I haven’t...y’know...taken care of things down south in a while…”
A laugh bubbles up his throat once he realizes what your implications are. You haven’t shaved. He’s covered in nightmarish scars and staples, lanky body trying to destroy itself every second he’s alive, and you’re worried about some body hair? It almost pains him to think that you’re so self-conscious of something so miniscule, so human, so mundane it doesn’t even deserve a second thought. Who turned you away for keeping one of your temporal traits? Who shunned you for wanting to be mortal?
“Angel,” he breathes between chuckles, his knuckles brushing against your cheek and pulling your hands away from your face. “Have you looked at me at all? Like, really looked at me?”
You meekly nod.
“Then you’ll know that I’m the last person to give a fuck about some hair. Hell, I can’t even grow my own body hair because it’s all burned to shit. Your body hair is a part of you, therefore, I love it. I don’t care if you grow it, shave it, wax it, whatever. That’s your choice. So don’t be so ashamed of it, yeah? If you can look past my fuckin’ terryfying scars, I can look past a few hairs, okay?”
Rough fingers trace a soft cheek, and you find yourself nodding again, spreading your legs and allowing him access to the place he craves to be most. You’re completely and utterly intoxicating looking down at him through unshed crystals, fingers playing with the strands of his hairs while he tries to memorize how you look in this exact moment because he’s sure this is the closest to heaven he’ll ever get. He’s tender as he traces your soaking slit with his calloused digit, careful to not rush you nor taint you with the impermanence of humanity. A bit of stardust falls out of your mouth when you moan out his name, and he’s disappointed in himself for not bringing a mason jar so he may keep all of your celestial beauty on a shelf as a reminder that not everything is as ugly as he is. Still, he considers himself the luckiest mortal to ever grace this earth to see you wriggling underneath him, see how your mouth goes slack when his finger brushes against your swollen clit, hear how soft your pleas for more are, to know that even the holiest of angels are capable of a little sin.
“What’s that, baby?” he coos down at you, fingers never leaving the apex of your thighs.
The mewl you let out is cut short by a whimper as he drags his fingers down your fluttering hole, gathering up all of your juices and licking them clean, sapphires never leaving your face. It’s the most erotic thing you’ve been blessed enough to see, so fucking sexy and world-shattering as he brings his hand down to grind his palm against your throbbing heat. Lowering his body over yours, he nips at the sensitive shell of your ear, licking and sucking on the afflicted skin until you’re bucking your hips against his hand.
“S’matter, sweetheart?” he asks with feigned sympathy. “Can’t handle a little teasing?”
But, oh god, if only you knew how he’s barely hanging on. This last shred of control he’s somehow maintained is about to burst at the seams, tear his world to shreds until all he knows is you and all of your feathers and glittering halo. He’s a mere mortal who somehow found a way to break into heaven, and he’s about to lose himself amongst all of the clouds if he lets go. He can’t, not yet, not when he’s still unsure if you love him as much as he needs you, not when he’s afraid of you regretting having an affair with ephemeral beings. You deserve better than him, he’s sure of it, but you’re looking up at him with eyes full of stars and wonder and he can’t stop himself from breaking down his own walls he’s spent a lifetime building up.
Trembling hands grab at his neck, his hair, anything they can grasp to pull him closer, closer, closer. You want him, you need him, all of him, every last scar, every little staple, every tear he had shed before crying became impossible, every blood-curdling scream that has left his throat, every word that has dripped from his tongue, every insecurity that haunts his heart, everything. You need Dabi, you need Touya Todoroki, you need the man you found facedown in an alleyway, you need the man who shattered your soul and furniture, you need the man who came back and pieced them both back together. You need him, and he’s never been more sure of it than in this moment.
“I don’t think you’ll ever realize how beautiful you are,” he whispers, breath hot against your cool skin.
But before you can reply, his tongue is running along your folds and his hands are intensely gripping your hips and, oh my god, you swear you see stars on your ceiling. He drags his tongue across your pussy like a starved man, moaning and panting in sync with every noise that falls from your chest, determined to make you cum, desperate to earn every ounce of praise you’ve ever given him. Sapphires clouded with lust and love gaze up at you as a hot mouth toys with your desire, and you’re certain this is what it’s like to be worshiped in the best way possible. You brush your thumb against his cheek, a signal that he’s so good, the best possible devotee and all of his acts of (worship) won’t go in vain.
“F-F-Fuck,” you mewl, and earn a groan from him in return, the verberations hitting your pussy and causing supernovas to explode behind your eyes. “Oh, please, just like that! You’re so good, Dabi, so fucking good!”
His index finger replaces his tongue, langid strokes against your sopping heat as he tries to catch his breath. “Goddammit, you’re perfect.” His voice is somewhere between a moan and a whine, syllables catching in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he attempts to swallow down all of the words flooding his esophagus. “You’re so fucking perfect for me and I’m so in love with you it hurts.” He’s in awe, completely and utterly in shock that such an innocent creature—one with stars in their skin and oceans in their veins and all of the secrets to love and life trapped between their flower-filled lungs—can look at him with such…adoration. Passion, trust, tenderness, bliss—they’re all there, swimming in your irises, dancing across your face, beating in your chest.
You love him, you love him, you love him.
And it isn’t out of pity. He isn’t some sick stray dog you found and nursed back to health and fell in love with along the way. You love him as if you had no other choice to, as if your heart would explode without him, as if the world would stop turning if he left. And, god, does he love you. He loves you like Icarus loved the sun—dangerously, self-destructive and self-aware, knowing he’ll never be worthy but still determined to be close with you at least once during this lifetime.
“I love you,” he murmurs again, fingers finding your cunt and mouth attaching itself to your clit again.
He’s a starved animal, deprived of love and selfishly taking as much as he can now that he’s in a home full of it. But there’s not a damn thing selfish about the way he loves you, about the way he circles his tongue around your clit, about the way hs dips his slender fingers into your throbbing heat and grazes your gummy walls, about how his other hand is touching as much of your soft skin as he can—your breasts, your nipples, your hips, the swell of your ass, your legs, just everything, everything, everything, so he knows what dedication feels like.
Bony hips rut against your mattress in a desperate search for some form of relief, but he can’t stop himself from devouring every little piece of you until your halo falls off and you’re free from the clutches of a cruel god. You were never truly happy amongst the clouds, were you? Always forced to be something you weren’t, forced to shun anyone who was less than perfect, forced to convert anyone who didn’t believe.
But now, in this moment, with the very same face you were taught to fear is buried between your legs, when you’re stripped down to the bone and all of your galaxies are setting the room alight, when your soul is naked and free to be handled by even the most scarred of hands… You’ve never felt more free.
Your fingers pull on his wintry locks in an attempt to bring him closer to you, closer to heaven and all of its promises of healing. “I—” Dabi cuts your whines off by flattening his tongue against your clit, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves and pumping his fingers faster. “F-Fuck…! I’m so close! Wan’ cum, please, wan’ cum so badly!”
You’re barely hanging on. Flashes of gold dance in front of your eyes and you’re almost certain it’s a part of your halo falling, but who needs angels when the sinner right between your legs is the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen? He’s quivering—so overwhelmed with the trust you’ve given a man with bloodied hands to not taint your precious body that he can’t help but try to give you every ounce of reassurance that yes, he is trustworthy! He’s worthy! Even with scarlet stains on ivory skin and graveyards full of regrets, he’s been deemed worthy of one of heaven’s most pure angels.
The fifth time you call Dabi by his name, he’s ready to completely throw away his previous life in favor of everything holy and pure.
Your thighs are shaking around his head, hands tangling themselves in his hair and pulling for dear life, and he knows you’re so, so close to that final push that will permanently brand you a fellow sinner.
“Tell me how much you need it, angel,” he all but pleads against your pussy, the pace of his fingers becoming faster and sloppy, desperate, haphazard circles being drawn into your clit and hungry teeth nipping at your flesh. “Tell me how much you need me. Oh my fucking god, baby, please tell me how much you need it. I need to hear it. I need it, I need you.”
“Touya, I need you,” you cry out. It’s a demand—give me all of you and let me love every piece. It’s a plea—love me as much as I love you and don’t ever leave my side. It’s a promise—I’ll wash every wound for you if it means I get to be close to you. It’s everything Dabi could have ever wished for and more—an angel finally allowing themself to be free of their divine restraints in order to love the very same thing that might kill them. “Oh, fuck, I need you. I need you, I need you, I need you.”
You love him, you love him, you love him.
His ears are filled with your prayers and his mouth is full of your ambrosia and his chest is full of all of the suns you’ve saved for him, and, for a moment, he thinks he’d be okay if he died right now. Your whimpers are intoxicating, the very same harp that tempts every sinner with a tainted soul. The pleasure that has been rumbling and knotting deep within your gut finally snaps with a few licks to your clit and his knuckles brushing against your slick walls, and you’re sure that you’ve officially lost your heavenly status. It’s worth it. It’s all worth seeing Dabi looking up at you with his hypnotizing topazes and smile that would make God himself weep.
Unsteady hands grab at his sharp face, heavenly fingers swiping away the rubies that have begun to cascade down his cheeks and splash on the bed sheets, a wobbly smile on cracked lips.
“You’re crying,” you observe, tender as you try to pull him close to you. “Are you okay?”
But rather than answer you, Dabi takes both of your wrists in one of his hands and delicately pins them over your head, his other hand tracing your body with feather-light touches. He’s measured with his ministrations, hesitant, careful to keep all of the flaws trapped in his bones away from you and all of the galaxies in yours.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The rubies are still falling from his topazes and all you can think of is how terribly wrong he is because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Not the clouds in the sky, not the other angels fleeting around carelessly, not the supernovas you see every night, not the sunrises you see every morning. Nothing could measure up to how painfully beautiful it is watching Dabi finally accepting the love you’ve been trying to offer him for what feels like a lifetime.
“You’re gorgeous,” you manage to reply, voice and heart wobbly. “You’re handsome and beautiful and—”
Rough lips slotting against yours cuts you off, calloused fingers cupping your face, and when he finally releases his hold on you, you wrap your arms around his neck. He’s shaking like a lost child, salty tears and copper mixing with your hungry kisses and clashing against greedy tongues. Your chests heave together as sobs wrack both of your bodies, so desperate to finally be together after heaven was so determined to keep you separated. Fumbling hands rip the towel that clung to his hips off, and he sinks himself into you, his hips stuttering with every centimeter he pushes through.
The sixth time you call Dabi by his name, he understands why generations of men have gone to war to feel a fraction of what he’s drowning in—earth-shattering, skin-searing, sanity-robbing fulfillment.
Eyes rolling to the back of your head, stars exploding under your skin, you dig your fingernails into his back as he snaps his hips against yours. He’s lost in you and all of your healing touches, all of the prayers echoing in your chest, all of the feathers falling down your back and glitter falling down your face. He’s completely and utterly in love with the saint underneath him, and he silently vows to protect you until his dying breath.
“A-Angel,” he groans, his pace sloppy as he tries to chase the high only you can provide him. “Oh, f-fuck, you feel so fucking good. You’re so good to me. So goddamn perfect. I love you so fucking much. Please, don’t leave me.”
Somehow, someway, you manage to find your voice and sob, “I love you, Touya, love you more than anything! ‘M not going anywhere, I promise.”
The seventh time you call Dabi by his name, he allows the past to die and begins to set up a home for the future.
His hips stutter when the sound of his names falls on his ears, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck to bring your chest flush against his. “Say it again,” he pleads. “Say my name again. Just like that, baby, say it again.”
The eighth time you call Dabi by his name, he swears he sees a flash of golden gates.
He kisses the hollow of your throat, watching the way your pulse skyrockets at his touch. “Again.”
The ninth time you call Dabi by his name, he starts to feel galaxies form under his own skin, and it’s then he knows his sins have been forgiven.
He’s drunk on purity and innocence and forgiveness—all of the things he’s been denied his entire life but has found waiting for him in your ribcage. “Again.”
And though he knows he’s just a greedy man who was lucky enough to catch the attention of God's greatest servant, he thinks he might be able to sit in heaven with you. He hopes, for just a moment, he might be able to see all of the golden gates and hear all of the harps that have haunted his dreams. His soul is still tainted with broken promises and broken families, but laying right underneath him, with the secret to healing and the key to salvation in their palm, is the very definition of love and everything right in the world.
And hovering right above you, with all of his passion and determination, with all of his flaws put on display for anyone to scrutinize, is a reminder of how beautiful and brave it is to be human in a world that only praises heavens. His cock brushes against your cervix, his lips kiss every inch of skin they can touch, his hands are buried in your hair, his voice is rough with desire and need, and nothing in heaven could ever be as breath-taking as Touya Todoroki.
“Oh my fucking god,” he moans against your skin. “I love you, angel. I need you.”
Lost in love and all of its intricacies, you whine and buck your hips up in sync with his, grinding your clit against his pelvis and sobbing at the galaxies you both are creating. Your own heaven to get lost in, where gods can’t spy and angels can’t judge. Where forgiveness is commonplace and greed is acceptable. Where family is who you choose it to be and love isn’t a tool for manipulation. Where everything is simple and pure and right.
And although Dabi is not a simple man and does not like simple things, Touya is learning that simplicity holds its own beauty worthy of loving.
The tenth time you call Dabi by his name, he’s ready to allow himself to be loved without any attachments, any suspicions, any ill will—the past, along with Dabi, have finally laid to rest.
“I love you, Touya,” you cry out, and he’s sure that it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I love you so much!”
You’re close to coming undone—he can feel how much your pussy is clamping down on him and how your voice becomes more and more distorted by hiccups and sobs. He just needs a little more, just a little more to add the finishing touches to your heaven and build a throne out of gold. Just a little more, just so he can relish in how sweet forgiveness tastes and how good it feels to no longer bear the burden of corruption.
“I love you too,” he whispers into your hair. “I love you more than anything in this world.”
His thrusts are becoming sloppier and sloppier with each passing minute, and he knows he’s only a few pumps away from spilling over. Cupping your face with his hands, he uses his thumb to brush away the tears streaming down your cheek and slots his lips against yours in a moment of heated passion.
“Cum, angel, cum for me,” he pleads, angling his cock brushes against scared places in you. “Cum for me, cum with me, just cum, baby, cum.”
Who would’ve known the creation of a new heaven could feel so sinful? Clutching his body to yours as much as you can, you cry out his name followed by a string of curses as your pussy milks him for every last drop he has. His bliss follows right after yours, and he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself from groaning too loudly so as to not drown out your melodic cries. Visions of gold and white and purity flash before his eyes as cock throbs inside of you.
His body goes limp on top of yours, breath shaky and bloody stars falling from his eyes. He thinks he can feel your fingers running through his hair, but he’s so high on simplicity and absolution he can’t seem to feel anything except your heart beating against his. Tender lips press against his sweaty temple, and he buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck.
“‘M sorry,” he mumbles after a beat of silence. “For everything. I should’ve realized sooner. I…I should’ve been stronger.”
Delicately, you bring his face out of its hiding space to press your forehead against his, examining the regret and hesitance dancing inside sapphire. “All that matters,” you whisper “is that you did realize. I’ll be your strength if you’re feeling weak. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on. There’s nothing to worry about. All is forgiven.”
And for the very first time in his life, Touya no longer feels like a sinner forced to bear the wrongdoings of a greedy man. He no longer feels like the product of selfishness and vanity gone awry. He no longer feels like a family secret buried in the backyard never to be spoken of or acknowledged.
Touya Todoroki feels like a man with his entire life ahead of him, an angel by his side and a heaven to come home to, and that, he thinks, is more than anyone with a past such as his can hope for.
2K notes · View notes
sakusins · a month ago
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word count: 5.1k
tags: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+, fem! reader, blow jobs, cum swallowing, humping, natsuo walking in on yall lmao, unprofessional work relationships, ceo’s son! dabi aka touya, modern / business au
a/n: he does not have scars in this, they’re tattoos, but they aren’t everywhere like his scars. also endeavor isn’t a piece of shit here, he’s just a lacking dad lmao what else is new. THANK YOU to my love ris for hearing me cry about this for hours ily
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“so you don’t know what i’m talking about?” you raise a brow, and touya simply props his feet up on your table, casting you a lopsided smirk as he shrugs. he has the audacity to level your chair down to accommodate his height, and if he weren’t your boss’s son—and your hopeless little crush—you’d have half a mind to drag him by his dyed roots out the door.
“nope, sorry doll. no clue.” gritting your teeth, your hands find their way to your hips, and touya’s eyes glint in amusement at the way they hug your waist perfectly—much like your tight little pencil skirt, and it drives him up a wall.
“ahh, i think you mean dabi, doll,” he corrects you instantly, raising a brow. sighing, you pinch your nose in irritation. touya is entirely too much for you to handle, but somehow, you still can never seem to get enough. he’s intoxicating, he’s got the eyes of the devil, and all it takes is one fleeting glance your way, and you’re more than willing to sell your soul to him.
“this is an office, not your streets,” you hiss.
“and yet you still fuck me here like it’s your bedroom. we still haven’t fucked in the conference room, you know. i want to cross that off the bucket list—”
“touya,” you say sharply, and instantly, he sits up a little, eyes slowly turning cautious at your sudden shift in tone. he tries to read you, staring at you calculatingly as you let out a heavy exhale, shaking your head. “it’s getting way out of hand,” you say seriously.
and a ghost of a pout forms on his lips, and you fight all urges to kiss it off. he’s insufferable, but he’s got you in a tight grip, wrapped around his finger.
“i didn’t even do anythi—”
“you switched all the coffee to decaf the other week,” you challenge.
“you have no proof—”
“and our receptionist is sick of you clicking a pen around her nonstop,” you add, cutting him off. huffing, he crosses his arms with a frown.
“have you even met her? she’s so annoyi—”
“and, the entire third floor said they’re all missing their staplers,” you continue to list, and he grumbles under his breath, muttering something along the lines of it’s their fault for being the worst floor as he sags into your chair once more.
todoroki touyai is painfully off-limits. you’re supposed to be his father’s assistant. you’re supposed to be professional, but somehow, he manages to make those thoughts fly out the window and have you bent over one thing or another. and even though you tell yourself each time that this really will be the last time you let him fuck you in his father’s company building, he manages to worm his way through anyway.
but truthfully, it’s not just sex anymore. it’s little moments in between too. he walks you to your car, he stands by your window and talks to you for a good amount of time, he texts you cheesy little texts—that more often than not have hidden innuendos, of course, he gets to know you, and little by little, he lets you get to know him too.
you’ve learned that todoroki touya is a lot more than the family disappointment—so he calls himself—and despite it being a largely inappropriate idea, you can’t help but slowly lose yourself to the thought of getting to know him outside of your little arrangement.
“are you…are you getting in trouble?” he questions quietly after a few moments. tilting your head, you furrow your brows.
“the old man,” he scowls, jaw slightly clenched at the thought of you paying for his actions. he’d never let it fall on you. “is he getting onto you for all of it? i’ll talk to him, i’ll handle it, okay? don’t worry about that old fossil, he’s not firing you. not if i got something to say about it.”
he’s got a lot to say about it, you’re sure that that’s true. you’re not entirely in the loop why touya and his family seem so estranged—though you do know he has a soft spot for his mother and sister, and the thought makes your heart swoon a little—but he seems to cast a glare at his youngest brother every time they’re of the vicinity of each other, and being civil isn’t exactly his strongest suit when he speaks with his father. you don’t ask why, though.
“no, touya—”
“dabi,” he corrects with a scowl. “just call me dabi,” he mumbles.
“okay, dabi,” you roll your eyes, fighting the small smile on your face at the intimacy of the nickname. “no, i’m not in trouble. he just asked me to see if i could handle it. but quite frankly, i am sick and tired of hearing complaints every lunch break,” you purse your lips in irritation, rolling your eyes at the memory of the same topic of discussion for the last week. touya smirks, hands finding their way behind his head as he sends you an all too confident wink.
“jealous people are speaking on me, princess? don’t worry, you’re the only one i’m balls deep in—”
“office setting,” you cut him off with a scowl. “we are in an office setting.” chuckling, he holds his hands up in surrender, giving you a small wink. he finds it a tad bit too amusing that you insist on being professional with him in your workplace during work hours.
“alright, alright,” he stands from your chair, stealing a mint from the small jar on your desk. you don’t bother to mention that you keep them there because you know they’re his favorite, just like he doesn’t bother to bring up that he asks to get a coffee in the mornings with you, even despite hating coffee. “i’ll tone it down just for you, doll. and i’ll keep in mind this is an office setting,” he snorts, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek before leaving the room.
you pretend your knees don’t wobble when you make your way to your chair, rolling your eyes when it’s slightly too low from his earlier adjustments. but there’s a soft smile tugging at your lips that he’s given you his word.
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except with touya, just because he is a man of his word, it doesn’t necessarily mean he is any good at keeping it. you of all people should know by now that he always finds a loophole to keep at being a menace.
“shoto,” you grin, setting your chopsticks down and waving the young boy over as he walks past your table, motioning for him to join you. with a soft blush dusting his cheeks, he quietly stalks over, hands fiddling with his fingers as he doesn’t quite meet your eyes.
“uh…y-yeah?” he mumbles quietly, and before you can speak, a certain nuisance pokes his head through the doorway instantly, scowl on his face as he studies his youngest brother interact with you. you cast touya a warning glare behind shoto’s head.
“could you hand your father this folder for me? it has some notes and papers i need him to look over—”
“you know, i can always take it for you, doll,” touya offers you with a dashing smile, a little too dashing for your liking. walking past his brother—and bumping shoulders with him in the process—he snatches the folder from your hand before shoto can reach for them.
“i told you to call me dabi—”
“touya? what are you doing here?” shoto asks with a tilt of his head. touya’s eye twitches in aggravation and you mouth a sinister be nice as a warning, and it makes him clench his jaw. it’s a massive blow to his pride that you defend his little brother of all people, and it takes all his self-control not to smack the young boy’s head with the folder in his hand.
“aww, you wound me,” he chuckles dryly, hand over his heart in faux offense. “i can’t come to the family business anymore? c’mon, i’m still part of the todorokis, aren’t i? or are you just too embarrassed your brother’s here in front of your little school girl crush—”
“cut it out,” shoto scowls, cutting his older brother off, and touya narrows his eyes menacingly at him. before he can open his mouth and retort, you cut him off.
“thanks for the offer, touya,” you snatch the folder from his grasp, thrusting it into shoto’s hand instead, “but i think shoto can handle it. can’t you shoto?” you ask him, turning to face him with a forced smile. the younger todoroki takes the hint, nodding and leaving you to deal with the older one—although, you really don’t want to at the moment.
“well, at least he’s gone—”
“he’s your brother,” you interrupt. “you’re supposed to be older. act like it,” you scold, and his eyes harden instantly, and it’s not something you’re used to from touya. he rolls his sleeves up slightly before he crosses his arms, and you catch a glimpse of the tattoos that litter them. they run across both his arms, full sleeves that extend up to his shoulders, and your mind instantly wanders to the other ones across his chest and abs, ones only you see often. before your thoughts can escalate, you blink.
“me and my brother aren’t your business, doll,” he spits. “you would do good to keep out of family issues,” he bites harshly, and a lump forms in your throat. and maybe he has a point, you’re not exactly in a position to insert yourself in his family life anyway, but you like to think you know touya a little better than many have gotten the chance to. and you like to think the morning coffees, and the late-night talks by your car, and even the small displays of affection and cuddling after a hook up he indulges you in sometimes, are all things that make you a tad bit closer to him.
but perhaps you’re wrong, and his tone makes your heart drop.
he seems to sense the shift, but before he can say anything else, you pick your chopsticks back up, turning your attention to your lunch before you.
“of course,” you say curtly. “well, i’ll see you later, it’s my lunch break, and i have a lot of things to do after this, so i want to enjoy it as best i can.”
“doll, listen, i didn’t mean for it to come out—”
“i’ll see you later,” you dismiss, and he rubs his face with a groan, running a hand through his dark locks. the red roots are starting to grow in, and before you can stop yourself, you point it out.
“you need to dye your roots,” you mumble. smirking, he looks up from his hand before plopping himself beside you, nudging you with his shoulder.
“you pay close attention to me, huh?”
“not a chance, you dickhead,” you huff, shoving him back harshly, and he snickers, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you to his chest. “anyone would notice it with how dumb your hair looks.” his thumb rubs small circles into your hipbone, and you sigh, relaxing into his hold and giving in.
if not for the teal eyes he’s inherited from his father, you’d have never guessed that todoroki touya was the son of todoroki enji. in fact, at first glance, he looks nothing like the rest of his family. with jet black hair, a body adorned with tattoos and piercings, and fingernails painted in black polish, touya is the exact opposite of what you’d expect the eldest son of your boss to look like. but somehow, you think he’s even more alluring this way, not because he looks like the dictionary definition of bad news, but because of his loyalty.
touya is nothing if not loyal to himself, he snaps back at his father and powers through harsh stares and quiet whispers, but he remains intact to himself. you can’t help but admire him for it.
“well, i need help doing the roots,” he insists.
“you did them just fine without me before,” you raise a brow, losing a battle with yourself and reaching over and pressing a soft pinch to his nose. he scrunches it slightly, and you chuckle at the sight.
pressing a swift kiss to your temple in return, he shrugs, a grin on his face that makes your heart flutter, and your earlier distress starts to melt away.
“you do ‘em better,” he murmurs, lips hovering over yours, breath fanning over your face, and you can smell the mint in it, and you know he was in your office looking for you before he found you here. gently shoving his face away, you roll your eyes, turning back to the food before you.
“you just want an excuse to come over so we can fuck,” you say flatly, and he snorts.
“what, and you don’t?” you do, but you’d rather be swamped with even more paperwork than admit that to him—he needs his painfully large ego bruised here and there. scowling, you huff, shuffling away from him, but he only presses himself into you again.
“if you’re gonna insist on being here, you might as well be useful and do something,” you snap, though there’s no malice behind your words.
“old man makes me sign papers with ‘im,” he rolls his eyes. “he seems thrilled i’m suddenly into the family business,” touya sneers. carefully, you glance over at him, watching him cautiously before digging a bit deeper.
“and are you? into the family business, i mean.”
“nope,” he pops the end of the word. “i’m into the crazy hot assistant my old geezer dad’s hired though,” he winks at you. you can’t help the laugh that bubbles in your throat, and his smile widens at the sound. and for a moment, you both stare into each other’s eyes, neither willing to look away.
you break eye contact first, turning to your food once more after a bit, heat flooding your cheeks.
“i have to finish eating and get back to work,” you mumble.
“can i have a bite, at least?” he whines, and with a roll of your eyes and a shove of his face, you shuffle away from him again.
“no, touya.”
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evidently, you’re not as good at denying touya as you thought you were, or you wouldn’t be here in his room, kneeling between his spread thighs.
“fuck, doll,” touya groans, panting as you kiss up his length, tongue swirling around his flushed tip. with a low groan, he throws his head back, hand moving to the back of your head and pushing you down closer to his throbbing cock, making you take him in deeper. your tongue runs over the vein on the underside of his length, and he lets out a strangled gasp, chest heaving raggedly as a layer of sweat covers his inked skin. hand rubbing soothing circles over his thigh, you hollow your cheeks, sucking on the tip before taking his length until he hits the back of your throat.
the todoroki household is empty, save for you and touya, and with no one meant to be back for another few hours, touya calls you over. and like a true gentleman, he makes you dye his roots for him before he asks you to suck his dick, and maybe if he wasn’t so pretty like this, you’d have left as soon as he brought the idea up. but your chest swells with affection for touya, and the idea that only you get to see him like this, only you get to touch him like this, fills you up with excitement and a carnal need.
and just like the slight flutter of your heart a few moments ago when you helped rinse the dye out of his hair and he whined about making sure not to get any shampoo in his eyes, you feel a heat pool in between your legs as he cries out for you, a mess of broken curses and moans above you.
“sh-shit, princess,” he moans, letting out a small whimper when your hand reaches to fondle his balls, heavy and sensitive as he approaches his orgasm. you feel pride swell up in your chest when you look up at him, watching as he closes his eyes, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as a whine bubbles from the back of his throat. “close, doll, ‘m so close. th-that’s it, just a bit more,” he groans, deep and drawn out as his hips buck into your mouth, hand keeping your head in place as he all but fucks your throat. and with a guttural moan, he cums down your throat, thick spurts pumping into your mouth as you bob your head and work him through his orgasm.
touya can’t remember the last time he felt like he was special to someone—all on his own, just as himself, but he thinks that he’s pretty close to that feeling when he’s with you. he feels a taste of intimacy with you that he’s craved for a long time, but this time, it’s his. alone. no younger brother to share it with—not one that’s everything he’s not, everything he won’t be, everything he can’t live up to. shoto may have enji wrapped around his finger, but touya has your lips wrapped around his cock—and he thinks that’s infinitely better.
“f-fuck,” he rasps, grunting when your hand plays with his balls through his high, his hips raised and mouth parted as the last rope of cum paints your mouth, one final quiet groan falling from his lips before he slumps back into his mattress, panting as he catches his breath.
finally lifting his head up with a smirk, he holds an arm out for you, motioning you over. you straddle his hips, rubbing your clothed cunt over his member, feeling it harden once more. you both groan at the friction, and touya’s hands grip your waist tightly, guiding you to a steady rhythm. just as his fingers slip past your waistband, moving to plunge into your dripping core, the door opens, making you freeze.
“touya? you okay, man? i heard you—holy shit,” you hear a deep voice curse, the door slamming shut once more. and you stare at the man below you in shock, watching as his eyes widen before he’s sitting up.
“touya! you told me that we were home alone—”
“we were supposed to be,” he hisses, pulling his sheets to cover himself. he’s never been religious, but he sends a silent thanks to whoever listens that you’re at least still clothed.
“what is it, natsuo,” he asks flatly. “i’m kind of in the middle of something here,” he adds, making you slap his chest. touya snickers, pressing a tiny kiss to your forehead before his brother enters once more, face bright red as natsuo clears his throat.
you try to climb off his lap, but touya’s arms tighten, keeping you firmly in place.
“i uh…didn’t realize you had company over,” natsuo mumbles. touya raises a brow with a scoff, rolling his eyes at the fact that he’d been interrupted from some free time he finally had with you.
“i didn’t realize you’d be home so soon. thought you said you were gonna be back late,” he raises a brow. his brother shuffles uncomfortably, avoiding looking you in the eyes.
“forgot my wallet and then i heard—hey, wait a second,” natsuo cuts himself off, narrowing his eyes as he focuses on you. recognition flashes his eyes, and you fight with yourself to keep from burying your face into touya’s chest. “aren’t you dad’s assistant? touya, you’re fucking dad’s assistant?”
“keep your mouth shut, natsu—”
“does he know? wait, what am i saying of course not, he’d make a scene if he did by now. holy shit, do you have any idea how mad he’ll be?”
“it’s not your fucking issue—”
“are you gonna tell him? what are you gonna say? did you tell mom? does fuyumi know? she’ll freak,” natsuo asks question after question, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, you can’t help but giggle softly at touya’s obviously increasing irritation.
“would you stop talking for a sec—”
“are you dating? or is this like a fuck buddy type of thing? i won’t judge, you can tell me,” his brother continues, and touya’s hand grips your wrist tightly, and you gently take his hand in yours, soothing the back of his hand with small circles of your thumb as you bite your lip to keep from laughing again.
“dude, shut up,” he groans, and natsuo holds his hands up in surrender.
“well, it was nice knowing you, bro,” he shrugs before turning to walk out the door, but before he shuts it, he peeps back in and meets your eyes. “just so you know, touya still keeps his baby blanket in his closet,” he adds with a smirk, shutting the door with a loud laugh as touya curses at him, making you chuckle. turning back to the eldest todoroki, you pinch his cheek, grinning at the way he scowls at the sheets and avoids your eyes.
“aww, you’re blushing,” you tease, and he gently swats your hand away.
“yeah, well, did you know that he still—”
“i don’t need to know all the todoroki secrets,” you chuckle. “i don’t need a family feud starting.” rolling his eyes, he groans, slumping back against his headboard, pulling your face to press against his chest. your finger traces soft patterns into his shirt, and his hand rubs slow circles along your back.
“well, the mood is ruined,” he grumbles.
“i agree,” you nod. “but you know what?” he raises a brow for you to continue. “i like your brother, i never met natsuo before. you never talk about him,” you add, eyeing him up as he avoids your gaze. sighing, he looks off to the side.
“yeah, i guess we’re pretty close, me and him,” he shrugs.
“what did poor, sweet shoto ever do to you?” you tease gently, poking his cheek. clenching his jaw, touya doesn’t meet your gaze, no matter how intensely you stare at him. you wait a moment before cupping his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes.
“hey,” you say softly. “you know you can talk to me, right?” his gaze softens, and touya presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and nodding.
“yeah,” he sighs quietly.
“you don’t seem too fond of shoto,” you murmur, dragging your fingers through his freshly dyed hair, scratching at his scalp. touya’s face falls to your shoulder, and he hugs your waist tightly, shoulders relaxing when you press a sweet kiss to the side of his head.
“‘s not his fault, i guess,” he mumbles. “i just…never really lived up to my dad’s expectations.”
“yeah, i supposed not,” you hum, rubbing the back of his neck. “you two aren’t exactly peas in a pod.”
“well, shoto’s perfect,” he grunts. “he’s got what it takes to keep the family business going, and me and natsuo want no part in that,” he rants quietly. “old man thinks we’re wasting our potential. like i’m some failure just cause i don’t want to sit in a suit and tie all day. so what if i’m not like shoto? fuck shoto,” he spits, gripping your waist tightly.
and touya can’t remember the last time he felt this vulnerable, he can’t recall the last time he’s let himself feel the emotions he’s bottled up for so long and pretended weren’t there, but something about the way your hand glides over his back and shoulders makes him spill his heart to you.
he doesn’t realize that a few stray tears have slipped down his cheeks until you pull him out of your neck, swiping them away with the pads of your thumb. pressing a delicate kiss to his nose, you pinch the tip, making him let out a watery chuckle.
“yeah, screw shoto,” you nod, agreeing, smiling gently at him as he sniffles. it’s what he needs to hear. that someone is willing to pick his side.
“do you…think i’m…bad?” touya croaks, staring at you with wide eyes. “for being bitter with shoto?” shaking your head, you kiss his lips softly, and he melts into it, eyes shutting closed. touya thinks he’d have withered if you said yes.
“no, i don’t,” you whisper. “i think you’re just hurt. sometimes we tend to blame things when we’re hurt. we’re just human,” you mumble. “you’re good, touya. so good,” you promise, and his breath hitches in his throat. sniffling, he hugs you closer.
“thanks,” he says simply, but you know how important your words are to him. you can feel it.
“if it’s of any solace, i think you’re the farthest thing from a failure,” you kiss up his jaw, and he snorts, poking your side gently, laughing when you flinch away.
“so cheesy,” he huffs out with a quiet laugh, but your words make his heart flutter, and his lips wobble once more.
for the first time in so, so long, it feels like someone is proud of him, and he latches onto the feeling as tightly as he can. touya’s always thought that he was destruction for the longest time, always thought he destroyed his father’s dreams and reputation and his family’s name, but you give him salvation, and he feels like he builds something with you.
he’s not sure if he can let that slip past his fingers.
“nevermind, you disappoint me,” you huff, glaring at him. but he sees the softness in your eyes—he could never miss it.
“you can’t take it back now,” he bites your cheek, laughing at the way you shriek. it’s quiet for a moment, just the two of you staring at each other before he decides to break the silence, hesitantly looking away from your eyes and down at his lap. “i…okay, promise me you won’t be mad.” raising a brow, you chuckle.
“did you do something at the office again? i knew it would be a matter of time—”
“i told my mom about us,” he blurts, cutting you off.
“oh,” is all you can say. oh. and suddenly, everything feels a lot more serious, and your stomach twists painfully. you’re not used to being this serious with touya.
“that’s it?” he whispers, searching your eyes for more. it’s your turn to stare down at your lap.
“what did…what did she say?” you ask quietly. you always knew touya was wrong. he’s unprofessional, he’s off-limits, he’s everything you shouldn’t want given your position. but you can’t help but crave him desperately, and even if it has to be in secret, you want every piece of him, and it makes your heart drop and lungs feel like they’re about to give out that this might be where it ends.
“she wants to meet you,” he mumbles. “only if you want,” he adds quickly.
“but…i’m your dad’s assistant,” you mutter.
“i know.”
“well, does she know?” rolling his eyes, he nods, scowling at you.
“yes, i didn’t miss that big of a detail. she knows.”
“and she still wants to meet me?” he nods, eyeing you carefully, watching as you bite your lip.
“but your dad is my boss—”
“i know!” he groans, pouting at you with a huff. “you gonna meet my mom yes or no? i…i never…never brought a girl home, okay? she’s gonna be real disappointed if you don’t show,” he grumbles with pink dusting his cheeks, not meeting your eyes. your heart hammers at the sight.
“even if the girl is her husband’s assistan—”
“for the love of god,” touya groans, flicking your forehead. the pout on his face deepens, and you can’t fight the urge to poke it with your finger, pulling away when he moves to bite it. “she knows, okay? she knows. the old fossil can shove it up his ass if it bothers—”
“that is my boss you’re talking about, touya,” you smack his chest, making him scowl at you. “highly unprofessional.”
“yeah, and so is fucking the bastard old man’s son, what’s your point?” giggling, you roll your eyes, cupping his cheeks and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, closing your eyes when his lips mold against yours perfectly. pulling away, your nose brushes against his as your foreheads meet.
“yes, i’ll meet your mother,” you murmur, smiling when he lets out a breath. “baby’s first steps, aww,” you tease, pinching his cheeks and making him scowl. you chuckle as he pulls away from you with a grumble under his breath, but you don’t miss the faint tilt of his lips at your news.
and you shouldn’t be this excited, you shouldn’t feel this trilled to be the first he brings home, to meet his mother despite your compromising status, to make things that much more serious with touya—but you are. you are and you can’t bring yourself to regret it one bit.
“good,” he grins, leaning back and pulling you to his chest, draping his blanket over your bodies and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’ll take you on a real date soon, and i’ll pay with my old man’s credit card, so you’ll have a blast,” he winks, making you roll your eyes.
and you know that there’s a lot more to todoroki touya than what you’ve learned today, and you know that it’ll take some weaseling out of him to get him to share more, but there’s a certain shift in the air that makes you think that maybe it won’t be so hard, and maybe he’s not so off-limits after all. you grin at him softly, heart fluttering that maybe, you’ll get to learn everything there is about touya, and it makes you inch closer to him, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw.
the late-night talks and the morning coffees and the small displays of affection do make you closer to him than anyone else has gotten, and you want even more of the taste of closeness he gives you.
“so, are we going to just stay like this?” you question, raising a brow. he nods, flashing you a smug little grin.
“we got the place to ourselves, natsuo won’t be back for a bit. we can always pick up where we left off,” he wriggles his brows, grunting with a pout when you elbow his ribs.
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bonus conference room sex scene
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got too lazy to beta it fully *sobs* so lmk if there are errors and also its ooc and not accurate obviously—it is an au
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saintdabi · 2 months ago
begging u to elaborate on dabi w an oral fixation (if u want too that is) - fang
fang my beloved.......anything for you
dabis little...oral fixation is subtle, at first. sort of. he just seems to really really enjoy having his mouth on yours. or on your neck. or cunt. or really any piece of you he can sink his teeth into.
make out sessions with him can last for hours. and they're always messy. and a little suffocating. he's sucking on your tongue, licking inside your mouth and barely ever pulling back for air. and when you start grinding on him, start whining, try getting him to focus his attention anywhere else other than your mouth he just tells you to be a little patient darling, you can do that can't you? and sometimes you can. sometimes you can't. its especially difficult when you can feel him, hard and excited beneath. it makes you a little desperate. it makes you fussy. and when you get like that he's usually kind enough to slip his slender fingers beneath the waistband of your pants and get you off a few times until you settle down again.
you finally figure it out while you're riding him one night and he just won't shut up. he's all teasing and cocky and so fucking annoying. the first thing you can think to do is gag him, sticking your index and middle finger right down his throat. and it works just like you thought it would. his words die off so fast it nearly makes your head spin. though you didn't account for the pornographic moan he'd let out. or the way his eyes would glaze over so sweetly.
and it clicks. right then and there. and you can't help but think about how obvious it all is now. how blind you've been.
you can't help the smile that spreads across your face. or the way you lean down, still bouncing on his cock, ignoring the burn in your thighs just to whisper in his ear baby, you should've told me how much you liked this. you push your fingers in a little deeper, watching with an almost sadistic sort of glee as his eyes roll to the back of his head. i think we're gonna have a lot of fun with this.
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bokurooslut · a month ago
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FEATURING izuku, bakugo, dabi and shigaraki
— all characters are either aged up to be over eighteen or already of legal age! 
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$ IZUKU uses his hands on you to teach you a thing or two about self love. he absolutely hates it when you're insecure because it makes him feel so helpless. he loves you so much and it breaks his heart seeing you tear yourself apart like this. to him, you're perfect in every single way, so he'll just have to make you see yourself through his eyes.. with just a tiny little bit of help from his hands. 
"feel good, love?" izuku asks you, his thick fingers repeatedly hitting that one special spot inside your walls, making your cunt throb and drip in arousal. you feel tears prick at the back of your eyes as you quickly bury your face into your arms, drawing in shaky breaths as your thighs shake in anticipation of your impending orgasm. 
izuku clicks his tongue, displeased by your actions. you feel your arms being ripped away from your face, his free hand pinning both your wrists onto the wall that your back was pressed against. "don't you dare hide your face from me, y/n," your boyfriend warns you, "and when i ask you a question, i expect an answer, okay?" you nod, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your mind clouds over from the intense pleasure of izuku torturously picking up his pace, fucking his fingers into you faster and harder as his thumb clamps down on your throbbing clit almost painfully. 
"f- feels so good, 'zuku," you gasp, pristine tears slipping past your drenched lashes as you screw your eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open as you moan obscenely loudly, unable to hold yourself back anymore. "don't stop, please." 
"that's my girl," izuku praises you, thumb moving to encircle your clit as his lips press onto yours, swallowing all of your saccharine moans and pretty whimpers. your orgasm washes over you soon after, cum spurting onto his fingers as he slows down his movements, helping you ride out your high before retracting his hand from inside your aching cunt. 
"you know, y/n," your boyfriend speaks, "this is the only way i ever want to see you cry." his cum covered hand inches closer to your lips, prying them apart as he shoves his fingers into your mouth. "you love my hands, don't you?" izuku asks and you nod fervently, tongue swirling over his fingers, licking him clean as you taste yourself on them. you pop his fingers out of your mouth, duly swallowing everything you're given. you aren't one to mess with izuku when he's being serious, you know him well enough to be aware that he's not somebody you'd want to rile up. 
"i do," you answer him promptly. "i love them so much." izuku smiles at you, softening up a little when you bring his hands up to kiss his scars. "well, i don't," he admits, withdrawing his arms from the touch of your lips to hold your face. you frown, heart dropping at his words. "i used to think they were unsightly, a constant reminder of all my failures, but you know what? i don't hate them so much now that i have somebody like you that finds beauty in them and appreciates them everyday."
your boyfriend's lips capture yours in a sweet kiss, his gaze filled with nothing but love and admiration as you pull apart. 
"these hands that you love so much are all yours, love. every scar, every burn, all yours, just like your insecurities are all mine," he says, smiling sadly. "i can't stand seeing you demean yourself, alright?" you feel tears well up into your eyes at his words, so simple yet so sincere. 
"hey now, i literally just told you that the only time i want to see you in tears is over how good i'm making you feel," izuku says, his smile finally reaching his eyes.
you grin at him mischievously, thumb tracing his jawline. 
"my bad, maybe you should make me cry on your dick this time to really drill it into my head, you know?"
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$ BAKUGO loves using his hands to play with your tits, especially after a particularly long and hard day of work. his arms are fully exhausted from fighting villains all day, palms still hot from the ungodly amounts of explosions he's had to create to keep up his work as one of the topmost pro heroes in the country, and after all that overworking, all your boyfriend wants to do is push his tired arms up your shirt and squeeze your boobs, using them as his personal stress balls while he buries his head into your neck, nuzzling closer to your comforting presence. unusually quiet and not so snarky, this is one of the rare occasions where you can baby bakugo all you want without being yelled at. 
"katsu," you whine, head buried in your boyfriend's messy blond hair as his fingers pinch your nipples under your shirt. bakugo doesn't respond, continuing to give your boobs harsh squeezes, not forgetting to pay some attention to your hard nipples as well. you know he's just doing this as a form of stress relief, but you're getting hornier by the second, panties sticking to your core from how wet you are. 
"please, katsu," you repeat yourself clearly, letting out a shaky moan at a particularly hard pinch to your nipples. "i know it's been a really long day for you, but i really need you right now, baby. let me take care of you, just for today. please?" you rub the aching muscles of his shoulders while you speak, making him grunt in relief. normally, he'd be fully against you taking control at any circumstance, but today's different because he's too tired to even move. 
"fine," he groans after what seemed to be hours. "just for today, alright? you better not get bratty on me." you nod eagerly, gently pushing him down to lay on his back as you position yourself over his clothed cock, grinding against his growing erection gently. bakugo grunts under his breath, giving your boobs one last squeeze before moving his hands down to hold your hips as you soothingly run your hands along his muscled forearms, proceeding to rub circles on his biceps as you continue to grind against him, making him shut his eyes in pleasure as his hands tighten around your hips, biceps flexing as his thumbs trace invisible patterns on your skin. 
"of course, baby. just for today." 
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$ DABI lives for the way you tense up when one of his calloused hands envelopes your throat while the other is shoved inside it, fingers pressing down onto the sensitive flesh with the exact right amount of pressure as the cool metal on his stapled knuckles sends shivers down your spine. 
he has you ride his thigh while he sits back and enjoys the view of your drool dripping down your chin as you try to suck his fingers deeper into your throat, tears forming as he chokes you hard, tiring your throat out from both the outside and the inside, all while one of your free hands is busy jerking his erect cock as the other clings onto his shoulder, your body rocking back and forth trying to ease the building frustration inside your core. 
"getting impatient, darling?" your boyfriend asks you, his tone condescending as he grins at you. you whimper, unable to answer him thanks to his fingers silencing you in every possible way. "don't get sloppy now." dragging his fingers out from your mouth, your parted lips connected to his long digits with a thick line of drool and spit. he moves his hand onto yours, making you jerk him off faster as he flexes his thigh, making you choke out a moan as you ride his thigh faster and with more fervour. 
his grip around your throat gets harder, more tears slipping out your eyes as your grip on his shoulder tightens even more. your cunt clenches at how much you enjoy being manhandled like this. 
"fuck," dabi rasps, pulling you closer by your neck and crashing your lips on his, tongue easily claiming his dominance over yours, mouths tangled together as the dull buzzing in your head drowns out the lewd squelching noises of you jerking his cock. 
"you sure like it when i use you as my fucktoy, don't ya, doll?" 
you feel your cunt drool even more at the sound of his deep voice calling you out on your masochism. "y-yeah," you manage to whisper. "so dirty, baby," dabi coos at you, his shit eating smirk not showing an ounce of sympathy for you. "so fucking dirty, all this because of my burnt out hands?" 
you nod feverishly, your voice betraying you. "such a pretty girl, all laid out for me to play with," dabi says, dipping down to kiss your jaw. "only slutty for me, yeah? tell me, whose girl are you, y/n?" 
as his other hand frees your throat to wipe the drool off your chin, the hand that was previously over yours leaves to cup your ass, kneading the flesh hard.
"yours," you mewl. "all yours, touya."
you move your thumb over his sensitive slit, applying pressure on the entire tip, making him hiss in pleasure. "touya, i'm close," you gasp out, your hand movements getting faster to match the speed of your hips rocking against his muscled thigh. 
"mhm? me too, pretty girl," dabi grunts. "keep going, we'll cum together." you nod, resuming your movements, only faster and harder, the entire room engulfed in soft whines, low pitched groans and filthy wet squelching of skin on skin and before you know it, you're cumming all over his thigh, riding out your high as the rocking of your hips gets slower. 
dabi cums soon after, shooting his seed into his palm, some of it escaping and dripping down his exposed abdomen. you bring your fingers near your parted lips, cleaning them of his cum as you stare at him straight in the eyes. he sighs at you, the smallest hint of a smile tugging on his face. 
before you can register what was going on, his arms drape your legs on either side of his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance as his hands move towards your inviting throat again.
"you're gonna be the death of me someday, you know?" 
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$ SHIGARAKI is in awe of how his hands, his weapons of mass destruction, the very hands that everyone else runs away from, make you squirm in ways he didn't think were even possible, begging for more and more of whatever he gives you. he doesn't show it much, but he appreciates how you've given his hands a new purpose, a less cruel purpose, and in return, he'll make sure he does whatever it takes to keep your insatiable cunt pleasured. and that's what he's been doing for the past one hour. 
"you want more?" shigaraki rasps in your ear, making you clench harder, sucking his fingers deeper into your gummy walls. he grins at you, lightly biting your earlobe, making you whimper quietly. "you're greedy as always, aren't you, sweetheart?" he comments, flipping your positions so you're laying on his bare torso as his back is laid on the bed. 
he then pulls his fingers away from your cunt, making you whine in protest. he brings his cum coated fingers up, curling them into a fist, holding one up against your slightly parted lips. "suck," he orders and you oblige, knowing you won't get to cum if you disobey or act bratty. 
you moan as you taste your own slick on his fingers, the slightly salty taste sending tingles down your spine. shigaraki doesn't miss your reactions, chuckling at how needy you are. "you're really turned on by the taste of your own cum?" he mocks, pulling his boxers down, his cock springing out hard, slapping against his abdomen. "that's so fucking nasty, y/n." he slaps your ass with his free palm, rubbing over the red area before slapping it again, all while you feel your core heat up in fresh arousal. 
shigaraki's free hand busies itself with pumping his cock and rubbing his tip all over your awaiting folds, coating your precum and previous wetness onto his dick before he slowly sinks you down on his length, both hands moving to squeeze the soft flesh of your ass. you moan into his neck, pressing deep kisses and sucking hickies onto his skin as he plants his feet on the bed, his knees in the air and all weight placed in his hips as he roughly thrusts into you, hands alternating between giving your ass cheeks hard spanks and soothing squeezes and rubs. 
the irrationally pleasurable feeling of his lengthy cock brushing against your sweet spot combined with his hands working their magic on your ass and the force of your previous denied orgasms washed over you all at once and you find yourself gushing all over his dick, your cum being fucked back into you thanks to his rapid thrusts, a semi transparent ring of white coating the base of his cock. he doesn't stop fucking you, chasing after his own release as his hands abandon your ass and find your tits instead, squeezing the sensitive flesh hard and pinching your hard nipples as you find yourself shaking from overstimulation. 
"tenko," you whimper weakly, hitting his chest. "please, 's too much, i can't." his thrusts stay steady despite your complaints, cock dragging through your walls as your clit throbs painfully. you feel another orgasm  beginning to bubble up inside you, but you're not sure if you can handle it without passing out, spots of black already beginning to cloud your vision. 
"you can't?" your boyfriend asks, tilting your chin up so you can face him. the stinging skin of your ass is met with one more harsh slap, making you welp in surprise. "you shouldn't be so selfish, baby. you want to make me cum at least once, don't you?" you nod, your thoughts beginning to go fuzzy, mouth falling open against your will. you fall back onto shigaraki's chest, your body spent and you being reduced to a moaning, whimpering mess as you finally feel his cock twitch inside of you before pumping your walls full of his cum. he drags his cock through your cunt a few more times, riding out his high before pulling out. 
his fingers drag across your sensitive folds, painting themselves with his release mixed with yours before his hand pulls your head back by your hair, shoving his cum coated fingers into your mouth as you taste yourself for the second time that night, but this time mixed with the taste of your boyfriend's cum. you latch both your hands over his arm, your delicate fingers gently tracing patterns on his rough calloused arm, sucking on his fingers as you try to hold onto the remains of your consciousness. 
shigaraki softens, his hand letting go of your hair and moving over to soothingly give you back rubs instead. you sigh contentedly, popping his now clean hands out your mouth before passing out on him just as you were, his strong arms enveloping your frame, one hand caressing your hair while the other lays on the small of your back protectively. the last sight you see before drifting off is him smiling at you, whispering gentle words of care that he'd never say when you're fully awake. 
"sleep well, love." 
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druighoney · 7 days ago
MHA men and their guilty pleasure!
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Synopsis: MHA men x guilty pleasure
➷Characters: Denki, Bakugo, Kirishima, Shoto, Dabi
➷ CW. F! Reader, aged up characters, dacryphilia, sadism lmao, electrostimulation, cnc(?), minimum prep, branding, degradation, praise, choking, size kink, corruption kink, dirty talk. mdni.
➷ Note: idk what this is, I was just entertaining yoko till she went bacc to sleep... Now hab this before I go to watch the new demon slayer episode😌 not proofread lmao
#tags. @yesitsmewhataboutit
Reblogs and interactions are appreciated!!
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Denki Kaminari
With your legs quivering on his shoulders, Denki lost track of his powers. Soft jolts of golden electricity flowed from his fingers to your thighs where he gripped the soft flesh as he accidentally zaps you. But the way you clench around him— his eyes are blown out with realization and lust. He feels bad that his cock throbs inside your warm cunt at the little tears pebbling in your eyes.
His eyes roll back and mouth falls open in a breathless curse when he feels you clench even harder as his fingers tap a little jolt into your swollen clit.
"Fuck just like that, baby, cum f'me, you fucking love it when I zap your cute little clit, don't you?"
Katsuki Bakugo
It's no secret that he's a sadist. But he loves to fuck you with minimum prep. Seeing you squirm under him, beg him to slow down, it's just a massive turn on for him. Bakugo's favorite is your little cries of 'Suki please, 's too much turning into incoherent babbling as you start drooling because his cock keeps assaulting that spot inside you till you're creaming on his cock.
Besides, you got your safe word, so it's not like you dont want this. He knows that you not so secretly enjoy it when he manhandles you into taking his cock before he fucks you dumb.
"Weren't you saying it's too much not a while ago? Then why are you cumming already?"
Eijorou Kirishima
Everytime your hands push at his broad chest and you huff with a meek,"Kiri, too big, won't fit-" He coos at you, soft praises of how you're doing so well for him but in reality, he knows it's at least a bit painful for you. And he hates the rush of arousal to his dick at the thought of you whimpering from the slight burn when he shoves his huge cock in your tight little hole.
Kiri is soon stuttering because his head reels from feeling your slick walls clamp down on him. Your little whispers tuning off into breathless moans with each hard thrust from him.
"It's alright, baby. You're so good for me, now shhh take it all, yea'?"
Shoto Todoroki
"Sho' please, need ya' to fuck me till I pass out." Shoto's chest swells in pride as he urges you to say the filthy stuff you want him to do to you. When you look up at him with innocent doe eyes but the words spilling from your tongue is anything but that. He loves to corrupt your body, soul and mind. A rosy tint spreads on his cheeks at your words.
He rubs his cock at your entrance, teasing by dipping just the tip. Heterochromatic eyes observe as your greedy cunt pulsates in need, swallowing his cock.
"Go on baby, tell me, where do u need my cock?Here?"
He wants you all desperate, taking his cock like a good girl. He'll edge you before finally fucking you, this way you'll be an obedient little whore for him. And just as you are about to cum, his hand wraps around your neck like a collar, "Do u wanna cum or breathe?" He heaves hastily, cock twitching from how you look at him with wide eyes and your hands claw at his wrist.
His other hand placed on your thigh heats up when you gulp fresh air just as soon as he let's go of your throat, "Bad girl," He's gonna leave a hand mark on your thigh, you're sure of it from how your skin stings from the blue fire.
"You don't deserve to cum. Maybe I should just leave after fucking this slutty pussy."
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2022 © all content belongs to druighoney. Do not repost my work anywhere.
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blessedlance · 2 months ago
like smoke
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[wc:] 9k
[cw:] dabi x f!reader, dabi is needy, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering
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unknown number: hey
unknown number: If you’re still at the store can you grab something for me
Shoes squeak against the linoleum as you come to a sudden stop in the aisle. Brows furrowed, you stare at the incoming messages. Who the hell is texting you this late about errands?
It’s definitely not Toga—not enough emojis.
But that leaves just about everyone else in the League with your number, including Giran.
Damn burner phones.
Lips part in a sigh. You can’t plainly ask who it is—that would leave a text trail. They really need to create a system for this sort of thing… But it’s not as though you don’t live in the same building as everyone else, so it wouldn’t be that big of an inconvenience. Might as well humor the request to at least get some context, right? Maybe the mystery texter will even make it up to you.
Not likely.
outgoing: i am. what do you need?
unknown number: black hair dye unknown number: any kind is fine
Black hair dye? Maybe Twice needs a disguise for a while? That’s unlikely, though. He wears his suit 90% of the time, anyway. Definitely not Spinner or Compress (not that you’ve ever seen the man’s face...) And you won’t even entertain the idea of Shigaraki. There’s only one person, other than Toga, who would be this friendly with you over text. And that means…
No fucking way. It’s dyed? A small laugh leaves you through your nose. The thought of Dabi staring down his reflection, dying his hair—doing any sort of personal decoration, really--is laughable. Dabi is not one to exercise self-care, accept help--show any sort of vulnerability, really. Nevermind going so far as to ask favors. When you were first brought on as the League’s medical assistant, he waved off every offer of aloe, pain killers, ice packs--all of it. At the time, you thought maybe the deep burns had completely desensitized him. It’s not entirely unusual for severe burn victims to have an abnormal pain threshold.
And maybe it is that, in part, but everyone has their limits.
Dabi, it seems, sustains himself on pure stubbornness. There’s not a doubt in your mind he would have denied help to the bitter end had you not finally insisted he let you do your job--‘Look at how crooked the stitches on your left hand are! No wonder you have to re-do these so often. Just let me. It'll last longer.’
And after his initial acquiescence, things were easier. Comfortable, even. Certainly less awkward than treating any of the other members of the League. With Dabi, something was different. The two of you fell into a pleasant, quiet closeness each time you sat next to him on his couch. In a few months time, he had gone from complete refusal to expecting you at his door nearly every day. Burns like his needed such regular maintenance, after all. There was the occasion though, when he would return riddled with fresh wounds and reeking of bonfire. At the telltale sound of your knock upon his door, he’d shout for you to let yourself in, slumped against the fraying, stained couch in his living area. And though you would utter a soft, “What happened?” the answer never changed.
“Don’t worry about it.”
You’d sigh, as always, and set to work.
Only once, when he came back bloody and bruised, breathing with the sort of precise caution someone trying to swallow down severe pain does, did you dare to look up from your kit and stare down those cerulean eyes when you asked. “What happened?” And only once had you seen the churning vortex behind those eyes, threatening to swallow him whole if he let it--before he shifted his gaze away from yours. Hiding his face beneath a mess of dark bangs.
Speaking of--
What is his natural color?
It’s unusual for him to share anything remotely personal with you. This is a first.
It's… kind of nice.
Your head pops up, searching for the sign hanging over the aisles reading Health & Beauty.
outgoing: sure. be there in 20.
- - -
You pause outside his door. There’s a moment of panic—you really should have clarified it was Dabi requesting this. What if it’s someone else and you knock on his door at an hour to midnight for nothing? He doesn’t seem the type to take too kindly to late night disturbances.
But it couldn’t be anyone else… Could it?
You roll your shoulders back, re-centering yourself as you inhale one big, slow breath and release. No reason to stress. The two of you have shared enough evenings together for the awkward unsurety of two strangers forced together by business to have long since melted away.
You bring a hand up and knock three times.
There’s a long moment of silence. Teeth sink into your lower lip.
Then, the door is opening, and Dabi’s eyes—blue, so strikingly blue—are staring back at you.
“Delivery~” You tease after a beat, holding up the plastic bag.
He smirks, reaching out to take it. “Thanks. What do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it.” You wave him off. “Really.”
His gaze narrows skeptically before he utters a soft, “Fine.”
There’s a beat of silence. Your bag very suddenly feels like an awkward weight on your shoulder. You readjust it, shuffling your feet. “I uh... never would’ve guessed the black isn’t natural.”
And Dabi is in rare form tonight, because he lets go of the open door and leans against the frame. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You wear it well.” You try to sound genuine. Try to sound like it’s just a friendly compliment. Between coworkers. Partners. Friends, even.
He scoffs, eyes rolling. “You comin’ in or not?”
The offer strikes you--frozen, with your shoes glued to the hallway floor. “I—sure.” Another slow, calming breath. Carefully, you unstick yourself and step through the threshold to his apartment. It’s not as though you haven’t been in here before, but it’s always on business. Always stitches and gauze and the scent of rubbing alcohol heavy in the air. Always with a purpose. He’s never invited you in just because.
Dabi shuts the door behind you, resting the bag on the kitchen island. Rustling through the plastic, he pulls out the requested box along with another unexpected plastic bottle. Those bright blues are on you again, his face questioning.
“Oh, I got you a deep conditioner. I wasn’t sure if you had some. It’s good to keep your hair soft after you dye it...”
He quirks a brow up at you. “You saying my hair isn’t soft?”
“No, asshole.” You deadpan. “Just trying to… be nice. I can probably even write it off as a business expense, if I really try.”
He hums at that. “Careful with that, or you’ll become the gofer for the whole league.”
“Oh, god.” You groan. “No. Not for everyone.”
“Just for me, then?”
Your cheeks burn at his implication, mouth caught agape. “I--I just don’t think their requests would be as tame.”
He’s staring now. Expression impassible. Evaluating your reaction.
You feel a bit like a mouse being lured into a trap.
He turns and the tension is broken. Two tall, plastic cylinder take-out containers murky with noodles and broth are pulled from inside the microwave.
“You haven’t eaten yet, right?”
Again, you’re left stock-still. What the hell is with the sudden domesticity? It's wildly uncomfortable… and strangely pleasant.
“You didn’t have to do that—I don’t mind.” You choke out, still surprised by his generosity.
“Too bad.” He says, pulling out two large bowls from the nearby cabinet and setting one in front you. “You can have whatever’s in the fridge to drink.”
You murmur a quick affirmation, grabbing a canned tea from the fridge before returning to the kitchen table.
But as you slide into your seat, your curiosity peaks. “This is quite the treat, Dabi. What’s gotten into you?”
“I wonder.” He hums, cheeky as he takes his place across from you with his own food and drink.
You and Dabi are decently comfortable with each other. Whether it’s because of how frequently he actually ends up requiring your services, or because of the unspoken camaraderie from possibly being the two least unhinged people in the League, you couldn’t say. But something about this felt… weird. Something about Dabi tonight seems… unguarded. Like that hard edge he has spent so many years honing has somehow been ruined, leaving him raw and new again. Why the sudden openness? The cheeky jabs? Sure, the two of you are friendly, but this?
Your heart beats wildly within your chest. Desperate to break the ice, to shatter this weird tension between you two, you speak up.
“So…” You start, biting your lower lip. “What’s your natural color, if not black?”
Blue eyes flit up to meet yours. “Can you guess?”
You rest your head in your palm, scrutinizing his facial features. “It’s hard to picture you with anything but dark hair. My only guess would be… brown?”
His face remains impassive as he returns to his food.
“Try again.”
“Okaaay... Blonde?”
He shrugs.
“You have to at least tell me if I’m getting warmer.”
He stares down at his bowl, shoulders slumped in on himself--making his figure appear smaller, softer than usual.
“Just look for yourself.” He finally says, refusing to meet your eye.
“What--did you want me to help dye it?”
“’S just been a while. Been busy. Roots are starting to show.”
You squint, straining your eyes to see if you can tell from across the table. It looks lighter at the roots, but from where you sit it’s impossible to differentiate.
“It’s not that obvious. I can’t tell.” You admit. “But if it’s not brown, not blonde… Red?”
He smirks a little.
“Red?!” You ask again, excited at the possibility.
“It’s complicated.”
You’re laughing, miso ramen left forgotten. “What kind of an answer is that?”
He hums, taking a second, and then he’s leaning back in the chair. Crossing his arms over his chest. “It was red when I was born. But when I was… maybe four… It started to change.”
Confusion colors your face. “Like how some blonde kids will turn brunette?”
Dabi huffs a laugh. “Hardly. Went white.”
You’re taken aback by that. White? That’s abnormal, to say the least. It doesn’t take your medical knowledge to figure that much. But why white? From red?
Your gaze falls to the beaten, burned state of his body. One of the first things that struck you about Dabi when you started with the League was how fragile he actually is. How he shields it with such a cold, confident exterior. Physically, he’s lean with the slightest bulk in his arms and chest (a fact you're keenly aware of after spending so much time tending his wounds). But his quirk had clearly capped his body’s physicality at a limit he seemed determined to surpass.
“Did… Did your quirk cause that, too?”
There’s more he wants to say. You can feel it simmering, just below the surface. But he stands instead, taking his now empty bowl with him.
You take that as your cue. “Sorry--I’ll finish and get out of your way.”
He stands at the kitchen sink, back turned to you.
The utensil en route to your mouth stops mid-air. Slowly, your head turns, staring down his back. Tracing the sharp curves of his shoulder blades beneath the thin white shirt he wears.
The air is stifling--silence hanging heavy. Your eyes never leave his back.
Eventually, you dare to breathe again and speak.
With that, he moves, returning to the seat across from you at the table.
Pushing aside the half-empty bowl of noodles, you let out a long, slow exhale. “Dabi.”
His eyes flit up to meet yours and you lean toward him.
“Are you OK?”
He looks back down at himself, evaluating. “I don’t look that bad, do I?”
You frown. “I don’t mean physically.”
He sighs, head lolling to the side as he leans back in the chair.
“Didn’t think you treated that, too.”
“I don’t. But this isn’t like you.”
He’s silent, staring off at nothing.
“That’s OK.” You say softly, gently. Wanting to reassure him that it really is ok if he’s not ready to dig it up, to bare his soul. The chair squeaks as you push it out to stand. “You don’t have to talk about it.” Careful not to make a sound, you pad across the wood floor to the kitchen island. “But I’m here, when you want to.” Your eyes are trained on him, watching for any sort of reaction.
He doesn’t move.
You turn to the counter, grabbing the box dye and walking it over to him. Carefully, you approach, until you’re so close you can smell him--like burnt sandalwood. “You look tired. Let’s get this done so you can get some rest.”
You watch as first, his eyes slide to stare at the box in your hand. They creep upward, roaming your figure slowly in a way that leaves your skin feeling hot in its wake, before eventually landing on your face. You try to smother the incessant heat collecting in your cheeks at the attention--at the way he’s looking up at you, but Dabi doesn’t break his stare. It lasts just long enough for you to start to worry you’ve overstepped the line. Crossed a boundary he wasn’t yet ready to breach. But he was the one who asked you this favor. He asked you to stay. So he wouldn’t be upset--would he?
A palm, rough and smooth all at once rises to rest over yours on the box. The unexpected contact makes you realize just how much larger Dabi's hands actually are. How warm his skin feels against yours.
“Yeah.” He breathes before standing and walking toward the bathroom.
The skin of your hand tingles in the aftermath. You’ve held Dabi’s hand before. Angled it just how you needed as you fixed the broken sutures between burn and flesh. But this--This was Dabi reaching for you. The wretched thumping in your chest restarts, blood rushing to your face.
It’s nice--to be touched. To feel wanted like this. Even nicer when it comes from someone as attractive as Dabi.
- - -
The squeak of the shower handle turning pulls you from your half-asleep stupor. You’re reclined on the couch, waiting for Dabi to finish rinsing the product from his hair. You stare up at the yellow tinged stipple ceiling, thoughts whirling. Wondering what could have possibly happened to make Dabi so rattled today. Wondering what you can do for him beyond simply staying. Wondering if his request could have been rooted in something more...
The old, shitty hinges of the bathroom door squeal when he emerges with only a towel wrapped around his waist. A second, ruined white towel stained with black sits atop his head where he rubs gently in an effort to dry his hair. Slowly you come to your feet, stretching with both arms over your head, the bottom of your shirt lifting up the tiniest bit, the chill of the air raising goosebumps on your skin. You shiver, righting yourself before walking toward him.
“Turn out OK?” You ask with a grin.
“You tell me.” He bends over. Enough for you to see the top of his head--to smell the mix of the perfumed box dye and his body wash.
“Y-yeah. Looks good.” You murmur after a quick glance.
He stands at his full height again. Very suddenly, you realize he’s usually sitting every time you’ve been over to treat him. He’s decently taller than you.
“Good.” He breathes, no more than a whisper necessary with your current proximity. Your eyes lock for an instant and then he’s turning, bare feet padding back to the bathroom. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, debating if you should attempt to breach the tension that has been steadily coiling itself around the two of you since he asked you to stay. Or if you’re looking too far into it. If you’re overstaying your welcome.
There’s rustling coming from the bathroom and the sound of a hairdryer. Feeling the need to make yourself useful and distract from the whirling doubts--the suffocating tension--you mosey over to the kitchen and busy yourself with the dirty dishes from earlier. Eventually the whirring of hot air comes to a stop, and Dabi walks himself in the kitchen, no doubt to investigate the sound of running water. You shut it off, having finished your task, and turn your gaze his way.
The absolute bastard is standing there having replaced his towel with nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, hanging loosely on his hips. You can feel your eyes go wide, face heating as you quickly avert your gaze from the cut of the V where his hip bones meet fabric, back to the sink to dry your hands.
He sidles up next to you, leaning against the counter. “You didn’t need to do those.”
“It’s fine!” Your reply comes out unnaturally high-pitched. You clear your throat. “I wanted to.”
He hums. You keenly feel the weight of his eyes on you in the silence.
“How’d you like that conditioner?” You ask jokingly, slightly sheepish.
He huffs a breath out through his nose and leans forward again, head level with the top of your shoulder. You take his silent cue and carefully reach up a hand, rustling it through the dark locks. It’s soft, and the heat from his skin beneath is warm. Without thinking, your fingers softly toy with the strands--extending the moment longer than strictly necessary.  You laugh a little, both at yourself and Dabi. At the situation as a whole.
“Feels nice.” You grin, quickly giving his hair a rough tussle before you let go. He huffs indignantly, standing up straight and running a palm (that same big, warm palm that had grasped your hand earlier) through the black to fix it, smirking as he shakes his head. “You laugh, but your hair will thank me.” You shake a chastising finger his way. “The color will keep longer, too.”
He scoffs. “We’ll see about that.”
The moment passes, and your eyes fall away from him down to the floor.  "Can I ask you something?"
You risk a glance back up towards him. "Why do you dye it?"
"What kind of question is that?” He deflects. “Why does anyone?"
"I just think...” You taper off, sighing.
"I dunno. I think you'd look good with white, that's all." And he would. He'd look good with white. Or red. Or any color he wanted. Him and his unfairly attractive face. "I'd be curious to see it one day."
He exhales loudly, "Don't count on it."
He turns toward you, the proximity between your bodies reduced to mere inches, and suddenly the air is scorching. As if inhaling would only flood your lungs with smoke--a heat that would burn you from the inside out. Your breath is caught, trapped within your lungs. Sudden dizziness sets upon you. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen to your brain. Maybe it’s the scent of his aftershave--that subtle mix of sandalwood and smoke--filling your head. But your eyes slowly roam upward, tracing the source of the remaining few water droplets missed by the towel still gently sliding down his neck to his bare collarbones. Eyes roam up further still, over the cut of his jaw, the rough skin of his chin that extends to his lower lip--where your eyes pause, lingering… Wondering what his lips would feel like. Staring longer than you realize. You will yourself to break the trance, flicking your eyes upward to his--those deep blues staring right back at you, partly lidded. Your pupils shift about his face, trying to glean anything you can from the look in his eyes. But for all his fragility tonight, for all his softness, the tidal waves within those bright blues hold their ground, shielding their depths from view. Like a fisherman at sea amidst a storm, you are lost.
“It’s late…” You whisper, so softly you hardly hear yourself. “You should get some sleep, and I should go.”
He says nothing, maintaining his stare. Where the weight of it upon you usually feels like a spark--like a strike of electricity or the hottest of fires burning blue, now there is an eerily silent void. The quiet of the middle of the ocean. The calm before the storm.
You feel it rising in you again. That question that tumbles from your lips every time you fix his sutures and clean his wounds. The one that always goes unanswered. But something about this moment--about his attitude tonight gives you hope. You part your lips to speak.
“Do you want to go?” He interrupts, his voice low and rumbling. Blue eyes fall down, over the curve of your cheek to pointedly land on your parted lips, intentions made clear. Your traitorous stomach flips, breath caught in your lungs.
“Dabi…” His name leaves you with an exhale.
“Well?” He asks again, inching closer. So close you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin.
The moment feels frozen. If you do this, if you let him do this, what then? The two of you are technically coworkers. Is Dabi even in the right mindset to be doing something like this? Would it be selfish and cruel to indulge in it even so? What would this even mean to Dabi? What does it mean to you? Would you only hurt yourself in the long run?
Dabi doesn’t make a move. Whether he is trapped in the same mental limbo or waiting for your verbal consent, you cannot tell. Blood rushes loudly in your ears with the pounding of your heart. You lift a hand, trembling the slightest bit from adrenaline, and softly, gently, rest your palm against his cheek.
His eyes meet yours.
“Are you sure?” You ask. Quiet, uncertain.
His gaze is scrutinizing. Like he’s searching for something in you. For a breath, it feels as if all the sounds of the world outside have stopped. As if all the air has been sucked from the room. There is no League. No cruel world that has wronged one too many people one too many times. There is just you and Dabi and this liminal space. At this precipice that threatens to crumble beneath the weight of the two of you unless you make the leap into the black water below.
The moment is gone as fast as it came, and his lips are pressed to yours. With the sudden shift in weight, the hand you had pressed to his cheek rushes downward to land against his bare chest in an effort to keep yourself from tumbling forward. Dabi brings his own hand to rest atop yours, holding your fingers in his grasp. His other hand lifts your chin, drawing you upward and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. To press against your pliant mouth harder. Asking you if you want more.
And you do.
The moment seems to drag on forever, yet ends all at once. When you part, it’s an effort to regain your breath. Dabi’s lashes flutter open and he takes a moment just to look at you, silent.
“Fuck.” He curses, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder. Like an involuntary reflex, your arms wrap themselves around him, feeling the unadulterated warmth of his bare skin against you. You’re at a loss for words, stunned silent from the kiss, the touch, all of it. Dabi’s chest expands against you with a big inhale and fingers clutch at the back of your shirt--gently, carefully, like he isn’t sure if the contact is welcome after the kiss. When you don’t pull away he leans into it, face buried in the junction of your neck as he lets out a shaky exhale, his breath hot against the sensitive skin. In this moment, that deep-rooted fragility you had seen within Dabi--the one he so desperately tries to stifle and starve out until it dies--is palpable. Right now, he is as brittle as glass. It feels as though if you squeezed him too tight, he might shatter in your arms, splintering you with the jagged edges. 
“Dabi…” You whisper. “It’s OK. It--It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. It’s OK.”
He sighs again. The crushing weight of his loneliness, of his enduring solitude all this time, all these years suddenly bearing down. The burden of being alone, of having only himself to rely on has held his head below the water for so long, he has forgotten what it feels like to breathe. And now, he finds himself very suddenly above the surface--able to breathe the air again. Yet all he wants to inhale is you. To breathe in nothing but the sweet scent of you, you, you into his lungs until that is all that remains.
“Dabi,” You try again. “Please tell me what’s going on. I can’t--I can’t help you unless you talk to me. And I want to.”
At this, he pulls back to face you. Defensive. Hackles raised like a cornered animal. Hot palms still resting on the small of your back.
“You don’t mean that.” His voice is cold, accusatory.
You find yourself taken aback by this. “Of course I do! I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t. I wouldn’t--wouldn’t have kissed you back...”
“Why?” You parrot back at him, surprised at his indignation. “Why do I want to know? Because…” You swallow, mouth full of cotton. “Because I… care about you, Dabi.”
His eyes soften and he turns his head away, ashamed by his lashing out. You sigh and return your hand to his cheek, turning his face back to you. It hurts you to think Dabi would assume your intentions were anything but genuine. To think of who could have hurt him so much, so deeply that he would balk at kindness.
“Dabi. Just… Tell me what I can do.”
He looks at you long and hard. You feel compelled to stare back, brows upturned in concern. His gaze turns downward toward the floor when he speaks, softly, like he’s afraid he might break this--this thing between the two of you--if he speaks at a normal volume. “Can you…” He stops himself, clearly mulling over his question in his mind. Unsure and unused to asking anyone for anything. “Would you stay?”
“Tonight?” You ask uselessly and he nods, turning his face into your palm and kissing the skin.
“OK.” You breathe. “I’ll stay.”
- - -
Quietly, you tiptoe your way back down the hall to Dabi’s room. Shortly after agreeing to his second request of the night, you had come to the realization of just what spending the night with Dabi entailed and had rushed down to the studio you called home, one floor below Dabi’s. Both to retrieve your things and to make some sort of effort to settle your fluttering nerves. Even if the League didn’t pay particularly well, the ease of access with the provided lodging certainly had its benefits.
Standing before his door (for the second time this evening), that same creeping anxiety from earlier coiled around your stomach, pulling taut. This time, instead of knocking, you took a deep breath and let yourself in. Dabi is sitting at the kitchen table, hands clasped with his thumbs pressed to his face. His right knee bounces restlessly under the table. He’s still clad in nothing but those sweatpants--a fact you are keenly reminded of the moment his attention turns to you.
“I grabbed my kit.” You say with a hushed voice, setting it down on the table before him. “Just in case you need anything…” A half-truth. You were well aware Dabi’s current ailment was anything but physical. But it also gave you an excuse should you be caught leaving his room tomorrow.
He looks at it, then back at you, brow quirked and smirking. “I’m good. Really.”
“You can shower if you want. I put a clean towel in there for you.”
Your face burns hot. Teeth nervously sink into the flesh of your lower lip. “O-Ok.” You nod, dragging your small duffle bag of clothes and toiletries along with you to his bathroom. Shutting the door behind you, you make quick work of shedding your clothes and folding them carefully to tuck away in your bag. You flip on the shower and the exhaust for good measure. It’s already a struggle to breathe without the steam of a hot shower pressing down on the atmosphere. Your body moves through the motions of shampoo, conditioner, shave, on autopilot. Everything feels hazy--mind spinning wildly--orbiting in circles around Dabi. What you can do to help. What could possibly be wrong. Why you care enough to put yourself out like this. Why it doesn’t really feel like putting yourself out because you want to be here. Something in you delights in the fact that he had come to you and no one else.
And he had kissed you. He had kissed you like he wanted it to last. But you know--you know how loneliness can eat at someone. How it can make you so forlorn, so desperate for human contact, for a soul to cling to for even a moment, that the who matters less and less. But fuck if you didn’t want him to really, truly want you. To kiss you again. To kiss you more. To feel his lips on your neck. To feel the gentle brush of his hands on your skin--his soft hair between your fingertips again. You’re flushed with want. With the idea of his warmth intertwined with yours. Craving to bare your very soul to him and let him do the same. To have him trust you with the map to those raging seas behind his eyes, that you might bring your lost ship to port.
You want him. You want Dabi. And maybe, just maybe, he wants you, too
You know you brought your bar soap with you--but he doesn’t. You purposely wash yourself with his body wash, scrub at your face harshly under the water, and step out to towel off. Staring into your bag, you tug out the sleeping clothes you had packed: dolphin hemmed shorts and a dark, oversized tee. Something modest, but not too much. The rest of your nightly routine passes in a blur--mind flooded with thoughts of caressing jet black hair (or white--or red) hair between your fingertips. Of that same head making its way down your body. The unforgiving mirror shows your reflection and you gently slap your own cheeks in an attempt to calm yourself. Facing Dabi right now, like this, would ruin you. Eventually, you allow your fingers to clutch the doorknob and re-emerge into the apartment. Dabi is across the way on his couch, elbow on the armrest and head against his hand, face impassive to whatever program flickers on the television. He must notice you, because he raises the remote in his other hand and presses the off button wordlessly. 
You’re struck still, watching him move. “I was gonna--” You motion to the couch.
“Nah. Shit sucks. You can sleep in here.” He steps toward his bedroom.
“‘S fine. Really.”
Your jaw hangs open--virtuous protest dead before you could even voice it. Teeth clink together quietly when you do finally shut your mouth, turning to follow him into the bedroom. Inside, the lights are low. Dimmed to almost nothing. A nightstand with its wood stained black sits next to the mattress, housing a single shaded lamp. Dabi stands next to it, stretching to touch his toes and holding the pose. A healthy habit you’re surprised by. Though you suppose it only makes sense with the physicality his sort of profession requires. From here, you can see the way his obliques tighten, activating to keep his lower back straight. It’s an effort to pull your gaze away and move quietly to the other side of the bed. how these old floors creak under the slightest weight. Carefully you slide beneath his comforter, noting how lightweight the fabric feels over your bare skin. He must get hot in his sleep. After he finishes his stretches, Dabi opens the door to the closet on his side, retrieving a single pillow and tossing it to you without looking.
“Need anything else?” He asks before turning and stepping toward the bed.
“I’m--I’m good.” You say, having barely caught the mass of down feathers before it completed its arc to your face. Setting it down, you turn to lie on your back, fingers nervously fiddling with the comforter as you pull it over you. If Dabi honestly expects you to just go to sleep with your heart pounding as frantically as is from lying so close to him, in his bed--he is sorely mistaken. Dabi sits, the mattress dipping from his weight before he turns to lie facing you, head propped up on an elbow.
“You seem awfully stiff.” He says, letting a knowing grin slip.
You give him an incredulous look. Dabi is a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them. “Bite me.”
“Why? You into that?”
Huffing loudly, you turn away, face steaming hot when he chuckles softly at your reaction. “Y’know you’re the one who asked me to stay. Not the other way around.”
“I know.” He responds, quieter. There’s a beat of silence before you turn back to face him--finding his face significantly closer than before.
His features twist and he leans in closer, sniffing the collar of your shirt. “Is that my body wash?”
“I…forgot mine.” You lie.
He hums, eyes narrowing skeptically with a half grins. “‘S Fine. Smells nice on you.”
You swallow, feeling breathless as your eyes drift over his face. “Thanks…”
He studies your face, in turn. Crystalline blue roaming the curves of your cheeks, your nose--repeatedly falling back to your lips…
You inhale carefully, breaking the silence. “Are you sure you're ok…? Does it hurt?” You ask, a hand reaching up to gently caress the skin of his cheek as you had earlier. In the kitchen. We he---
“You’re always askin’ me that.” He laughs quietly, very cautiously leaning into your touch. Like he's not sure what will happen when he does--like he's afraid the moment he gives in, the rug will be pulled from under him. “Gonna have to be more specific.”
And it does hurt. You know it hurts. Everywhere. All the time. That deep rooted ache for something, anything that sits and festers in your chest until it spreads, relentlessly, to every part; leaving you cold and empty.
“You know what I mean.” You whisper, hand sliding down over his neck, his collarbone, to the planes of his chest. There’s a dull, steady thump thump thump beneath your palm. A reminder that Dabi is human. That he is delicate flesh and blood just the same as any other. That he bruises and tears just as easily, hurts just as keenly--if not moreso. His hand raises to intertwine with yours, drawing you away.
“I’m fine.” He whispers.
He’s not. He probably hasn’t been for a long, long time now. But you can't stifle the want--the need to reach out and touch him, hold him, tell him he is worth it and then some.
You must look sullen, lost in thought, because he’s lifting your chin gently, pulling your attention back to the present--to him. “Let me kiss you again.” He breathes, asking without asking.
“Please.” You murmur and he laughs a little, the corner of his mouth curving up as he turns his head to properly seal his lips against yours. It’s gentle at first, like before. The careful kisses of two people learning the feel of the other's lips on their own. Your fingers move to card through the soft, fresh black tresses near the nape of his neck, tugging them a little. Just enough to urge him on, to silently ask him for more. A small, low groan rumbles against your mouth and you can’t help the way your lips curl into a smirk against his. Dabi sits up straighter, emboldened, and you sink deeper into the mattress beneath you. He kisses harder, lips increasingly frantic until he has his upper body on top of yours, arms a cage on either side. Teeth tug gently at your lower lip and your mouth falls open with a quiet gasp. Every part of you, soft and pliant against him as his tongue slips between lips to taste. His weight shifts, the shitty sunken mattress leaning with it and a hand wraps itself around the side of your waist, sliding upward beneath your shirt. Dabi's touch is feather-light, tantalizing against your skin. His hand reaches the curve of flesh at the underside of your breast and he pauses, mouth parting from yours but staying close. Your eyes flutter open, breathless as you pant against him.
"This OK?" He asks.
You bite your lip, nodding.
Your top is suddenly tugged up, arms going with it to let him slip the fabric over your head. Blue eyes--dark in the low light, simmering with lust--drink you in. Something about it feels… right, in a way. Bare before him as he has been to you so many times before.
"Dabi…" You whisper, breathy and wanting.
Eyes flick up to yours at the sound of his name. He looks a little dazed staring up at you like this while his tongue peeks out to wet his lower lip. He leans down, lips pressed to the skin of your neck when he whispers,
"You're so beautiful."
And then his head is moving further down, lips sealing themselves around a nipple while his palm cups your breast, squeezing gently. You can feel his tongue, tracing slow circles around the nub and your back arches, molten honey pooling in your stomach. A whine parts your lips. The fingers of his free hand slide down over the expanse of your stomach slowly, until he reaches the band of your shorts. He tugs at them gently and again you comply without hesitation, lifting your hips. His other hand begrudgingly leaves your breast, pulling the shorts and panties off with gentle precision. It's surprising, the softness of his touch. The way he treats your skin like the fine marble of a statue. Something to be revered rather than manhandled--already molded into perfection. It warms you all over, simmering just below the surface. Hands glide up the meat of your thighs, squeezing softly near the apex, and a small whine rises in your throat, legs squeezing together in an attempt to ease the rising need. Dabi smirks, crawling his way back up your body to slot his lips against yours again. Legs part, cradling his hips between and he rests them against you, letting you feel him--hard and big in his boxer briefs.
"Oh fuck, Dabi--" Your muscles are tensing, hips desperate to grind your wet, bare sex against him. To show him just how badly you want him, need him.
He pulls himself up, just enough to let the middle and ring fingers of his left hand slide between your folds, already slick with want.
"So pretty like this. Knew you would be." The bass of his voice thrums in your ear as he strokes, your core clenching around nothing. His fingertips circle your clit carefully, deliberate yet soft to the touch. You moan at the momentary release of pleasure but it only serves to further stoke the flame. You roll your hips against his touch, urging his fingers to give you more. You feel absolutely desperate to have him inside you. Need to be filled until there is nothing but Dabi, Dabi, Dabi. Want it so badly you could cry.
"Dabi please." Your hips rise against his touch, trying to direct his fingers down, inside, right where you want them.
“Lemme get a condom--”
“Don’t.” You cry, a hand reaching up to stop him. His brows fly up, an incredulous look on his face.
“‘Scuse me?” He asks, looking nearly perturbed in his surprise.
“I’m… on the pill. It’s fine. Just…” Your eyes flutter as you stare up at him, chest heaving. "Need you inside me."
A dark look passes over Dabi’s face before he speaks again.
“Flip over.”
“What?” You ask, stunned.
He sits up, grabbing his pillow. “On your stomach.”
Your body follows his instructions on its own accord, and before your lust-addled mind can process the position, his voice is in your ear again--rough and low.
“Ass up.”
A shiver races down your spine as you curve it, pushing your ass into the air. Part of you expects him to slap it--wants him to, even. It’s difficult to imagine Dabi as anything but a rough lover. A hand does make contact, but it's soft. Gentle, as he squeezes the flesh caressing the curve of your ass carefully while his other hand slides his pillow beneath your pelvis, elevating you slightly.
“'S so nice. Be a shame to hide it.” He sounds so goddamn smug praising you. You can’t suppress the whine that leaves you.
“I know, I know.” He tuts, moving on his knees behind you. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, pretty girl.”
Rough hands slide over the swell of your ass and come to rest at your hips. Your back arches, pressing up and back--desperate for contact. For anything to quell the aching heat inside you. Dabi laughs quietly, under his breath.
“Eager, are we?”
You turn your head against your pillow, eyes straining to see his face behind you. “Haven't you teased me enough?"
One of his hands leaves your body, and then you can feel him. Hard cock sliding between your thighs, the swell of his cock gliding gently, easily against wet lips.
“Shit, you're so wet… ” He leans forward, the skin of his chest warm against your back. “Just for me?”
You moan a little, nodding--as much as you can manage--against the pillow.
Teeth skim the outer shell of your ear, and you can practically feel his grin--so close his breath fans hot against the back of your neck.
“Squeeze these together for me.” He whispers, big hands pressing your plush thighs together around where he’s fitted his cock. Muscles tense and you follow his instruction, knees pressed against each other so tightly your legs start to tremble.
“Shit--” He curses, low and long. “Good girl.” The praise slow and lulled, like the movement of his hips as he thrusts forward and back between your thighs. With every drag, the head of his cock bumps against that bundle of nerves between your folds, making you wetter, hotter. It feels like you’re dripping onto him, lubricating every thrust.
“Oh--Oh my god” You breathe, air leaving your lungs in one fell swoop with every push inward--every gentle slap from the skin of his pelvis meeting your ass.
“So fucking wet n’ messy.” He groans. “Wanna feel it inside--”
“Please…” You huff, the apprehension of foreplay long past its boiling point. “Please I need it. Need you--ah--inside...”
“Yeah?" His voice lilts with a tease." You need me?” Fingers sink into the flesh at your hips.
“Yes, yes, please.”
His thrusts come to a stop, cock slipping free from between your thighs. Before you can turn around, Dabi’s hands are grasping your lower back, pushing you down to lie with your stomach flush against the mattress, legs together and hips raised slightly by the pillow beneath them. The back of his fingers caress the skin along your back before it leaves you, making you shiver, and then you feel it--his tip pressing against your entrance. But he does not press forward, no matter how you squirm. Instead, he returns his lips to your ear. Lets you feel the full weight of his larger, longer body against you as he speaks.
“How long have you wanted this?”
Your hand makes a fist in the sheets. “I don’t---I don’t know.” You feel hysterical. Unable to form coherent sentences. “Probably… a long time. But when you--when you kissed me, I just…”
“Yeah?” He mocks you. “Did you think about me? In the shower?”
This is fucking cruel you think, responding with only a moan against the pillow. Your hips rock backward against him, impetuous and desperate.
“Because I thought about you.” He whispers, letting fingertips ghost down the skin of your back. Your body trembles. Mind, body, soul sent into overdrive at the thought of Dabi wanting you just as bad as you have wanted him. The thought of Dabi’s skin flushed pink from heat--both inside and out--while he fists his cock. Shower water trailing over him--eyes shut, mouth open.
And he thought about you.
Dabi’s hips finally shift forward, length slowly stretching the taut muscle of your cunt around its intrusion. Your nails tear at the bedsheet beneath you--breath trapped in your lungs by the burn of his size stretching you so thoroughly. It feels impossibly tight with your legs pressed together. Like he'll never fit his full length inside you like this. But you want him to, so so badly. Dabi notices the stutter of your breath and moans, getting off on your oh so valiant effort to take his full length in one go.
“You are so fucking tight like this.” He moans, pausing and granting you the mercy of catching your breath before he continues. “You can take it, though. You can take it.”
You moan, long and broken. “Dabi please, it’s so--” but he shushes you, leaning in close and continuing the push inside--deeper and deeper within. Your mouth hangs open in a near soundless “Ah--” as he splits you open, movement gentle and languid.
“That’s it, that’s my girl.”
You think if your heart doesn’t give out from the rush of this, from the feel of his cock pressed this deep inside you, the mix of praise and filth he whispers in your ear might do the trick.
A moment passes, body adjusting to the weight of him within you, and he kisses a spot on your back softly.
“You OK?” He asks. And his voice is so soft, so genuine and kind that for a moment, he’s not Dabi. He’s just the boy he was before all this. The boy that died when the world--when someone (who? will he ever tell you?) hurt him so dearly, he lost his way. He dyed his hair and pierced his ears and tried to erase every trace--and ended up here. Just like the rest of you.
“Yeah.” You whisper in response. “Yeah, I’m OK. You can move.”
Fingers intertwine with yours against the sheet, overwhelming your hand with their size. His other hand grasps at the bone of your hip, tugging you backward against him as he thrusts forward.
And then he’s fucking you in earnest. In and out over and over again. Cock dragging against the constant pull of your tight walls around him. He pulls your hips up and back against him, in rhythm with every thrust. Pushing that much deeper, that much harder into you.
“Feels good doesn’t it?” He pants, his grip on your body squeezing the flesh tighter in his pleasure. It only feeds the flame. That sweltering heat building within you. So fiercely hot--you wonder if this is how he feels all the time.
“Dabi… Dabi…” You chant, trying to turn over the hand he holds down against the sheet, that you might hold his palm in yours.
He groans at the gesture, allowing it. “Yeah… yeah, I got you.”
The skin of your ass slaps quietly against him with every thrust. Every conceivable inch of his body flush against yours.
“Dabi,” You call again. “Let--Lemme flip over.” You stammer out between deep breaths. “Wanna see you.”
His rhythm stutters, and for a moment you wonder if he’ll protest. If he’ll ask you if you’re sure you want to bear witness to the tragedy of his body in such a state. Eventually he slows and breathes an affirmation before carefully pulling out.
You turn yourself over, hips lying atop the pillow again. Shocking blues rove up your body beneath long lashes--the quiet, the sadness in them from earlier still present, but hidden in the inferno of lust. You make it a point to touch him, to feel the full expanse of his chest with gentle fingers. Delicate around the staples and stitches holding skin together. Fingers trace their way around his torso, following the curve of his ribs, to the muscles of his back--flexed while he holds himself over you.
“Dabi,” You whisper, leaning in to kiss along his jaw, inching up toward his ear. “Fuck me.”
And he does. He takes you again with such fervor and passion--makes you feel so good and full you could do this forever. One big hand squeezes the flesh of a breast, rolling the nipple between dextrous fingers and you keen, arching up further against him. You press the pads of your fingertips against the skin of his back, trying not to claw. Hyper aware of his skin’s fragility. “Dabi” and “Dabi” and “Please” are the only words you still know.
“Y’feel so good.” His head falls against your shoulder. Breath coming in rough pants from the exertion. “Fucking knew you would.”
Knees come up, his hands pressing them up and back against your chest. Bringing his body closer to you--like he cannot get close enough. Pushing you into submission beneath him. Giving his cock that little bit more of you to fill. The cry that leaves you is nearly involuntary. You want to wrap your legs around him, pull him closer, merge his very being with your own until there is nothing but you and Dabi and this feeling of constant, unimaginable pleasure. You’re tugged from your reverie only by the sound of his voice, rough as gravel in your ear.
“Touch yourself for me, baby. Show me how you do it.”
Fingers, clumsy from adrenaline, make their way to your clit. They move in tiny, fast circles over the nub and your head flings back against the mattress. “Oh fuck--Oh god Dabi I’m--”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I feel it. Fuck, you’re so-- shit--so pretty. Wanna see you cum.”
You think you might cry. It’s all so, so much. His cock bullying your g-spot with every thrust inside. The pleasure coils, tighter and tighter within you with every circle of your fingertips over your clit. “Please don’t stop. Want you to cum in me so bad. I’m--I’m so close, I’m--I’m gonna--”
“Yeah, I’ll give it to you.” He pants, watching the way your eyes screw themselves shut, mouth agape in focused pleasure. “I know you need it, I know you do. I need it, too. Need you.” He swallows loudly, his admission ringing in his ears with your moans. "Need you to come for me."
“Da--” The second syllable dies on your lips, orgasm overtaking you. Cunt spasming around his length, eyelids fluttering in ecstasy.
“Fuck--Yes--Can feel you cumming. So hot n’--fuck--tight I’m gonna--” He gasps, groaning unabashedly, tumbling over the edge along with you. It feels serendipitous, this moment of all-encompassing pleasure shared between the two of you. Something so special you continue to rock yourself against him as he cums, desperate to draw the moment out--to make it last.
Dabi lets himself collapse on his back next to you, breathing hard while he wipes the sweat from his brow. Slowly but surely, your heart returns to its natural resting state. You chance a glance in Dabi’s direction to find his head already turned to you. There is a terrible weight lodged in your throat--the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is the part where he tells you, ‘Thanks doll that was fun now get the fuck out.’
He smirks at you, breathing returning to normal. “Want a towel?”
You shake your head. “I’ll get up in a bit.”
He reaches over, fingers gently brushing your hair behind your ear before he strokes your cheek with his thumb. His touch is soft and reverent against your skin. “How was it?” He asks, genuine.
“Good.” You whisper, still drunk in everything that is him. “You?”
“Fuck yeah.” He breathes with a laugh. And despite his choice of words, it feels so honest, so genuine that you could choke up. The way Dabi feels… whatever it is toward you--enough for him to trust you with this vulnerability, it makes you hope. Claws into your chest and lights your heart ablaze with yearning that this might be more. He watches you for a while. Watches the way you analyze his face, lost in thought. Eventually he sits up, patting your thigh and tugging the slightest bit with his fingertips, gesturing for you to come with. He flicks the dimmer light on within the other room--and you do. Damn your burning heart, but you do get up and follow him into the bathroom. The way lovers might. The way you want to if it’s with him. His arm reaches out and catches you upon entry, pulling you into him tightly. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, grip strong around you. “You’ll still stay, right?” He asks, breath blowing against your hair.
“As long as you still want me to.” You reply, face buried against him.
“‘Course I do.” He says, voice gentle and low, letting the silence settle in for a moment before he follows up. “Need you to.”
You tug yourself away from him just enough to look in his eyes. His gaze is lowered, aware and shy of your analyzing look. You breathe his name, giving him a moment to work up the nerve to turn back to you. When he finally does, you caress his face with your thumb, smiling. Letting yourself indulge in this tender piece of himself Dabi has bared to you.
“I want to, too.”
Dabi doesn't smile, but you can see the light glisten in his eyes. Feel the way his arms around you tighten just that tiny bit. He drops his head to your shoulder, tense muscles relaxing against you--content to just hold you there for a moment. You turn your palms to press them against his chest, letting the gentle beat of his heart lull you away. The two of you adrift in this moment, tiptoeing your way into something more. 
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