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#dabi x you
katsuphilia · 2 days ago
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𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐒 | 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈
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𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐬: (noun) a nightmare. the demon incubus that supposedly causes a nightmare.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: dabi has a nightmare you leave him
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: repost from my old blog yet again
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“i think we should break up.”
the sentence comes abruptly, and dabi looks up at you in shock—for once, you seem to have caught him off guard. eyes narrowing, he stares at you angrily, but if you look closely, you can make out the small hints of hurt, the traces of panic that outline his blue orbs.
“what?”
“i think…” you speak hesitantly, “i think it would probably be better if we…you know? stopped this,” you gesture at the two of you with your finger, “while we can,” you mumble.
dabi stares down at his lap, and he almost wants to laugh, almost wants to be amused at how right he’d been, how he’d guessed things so perfectly.
he’s always known in the back of his mind that his life was never meant to mesh with yours. how could you be willing to be with him? to see a future with him? to leave behind the light you’d known for so long to venture the shadows with him?
he’s always been left behind, always been outgrown for the better options, but something about you was different to him. you made him weak, made him crave for a different outcome—and he knew he could never bring himself to hurt you, not even if you truly did rip his heart right through the seams. he looks up at you with a snarl.
“fine by me,” he shrugs. but there’s a tightness in his voice when he adds, “doesn’t make a difference.”
“it’s not what you’re thinking,” you whisper. “we’re just…in really different places, you know?” this time, he does laugh, standing up with his hands aflame. he’s almost hurt by the fear in your eyes and how you shrink back—perhaps you hadn’t trusted him the way he’d thought.
the flames slowly die down as he spits, “fuck you—”
—and suddenly, dabi’s being shoved off the bed—when did he get in here from the living room?—groaning as he comes to consciousness.
“dabi, what the fuck?” you hiss, voice laced with sleep as you rub over a slightly irritated patch of skin on your arm. he realizes his hand is a bit heated, and instantly, he sits up, grabbing your arm to check it over.
“doesn’t look too bad,” he mumbles. quietly, he adds a small, “my bad.” you sigh, rubbing your eyes as you blearily look at him, eyes adjusting in the dark.
“what happened?” he begins to remember the events from a few moments ago, and slowly, you watch as dabi becomes guarded, eyes turning stone cold as he glares at you. it’s a constant tug of war with him, to let you in and see him at his worst, but you’ve made progress, and you refuse to let it go down the drain.
“why are you here?” he spits. blinking, you furrow your eyebrows.
“umm…because i live here? what do you mean?”
instantly, he stands from his place on the floor, seething silently while he throws on his shirt and grabs his few belongings as he begins to walk out of your bedroom. all sleep leaves you as you frantically get out of bed, trailing behind him in concern.
“dabi! what has gotten into—where are you going? you nearly burn my arm and now you’re just gonna leave?”
“you’re the one who wanted me to,” he growls, and you take a step back at the look in his eyes. they’re wild and frenzied and so hurt—and it makes your heart bleed as you stare into them. tentatively reaching out, you slowly walk up to him, and for some reason, he lets you.
dabi’s always been a bit weaker in his resolve when it comes to you—far more than he wants, far more than he thinks is safe, but he can’t deny that being with you makes his usual defense tactics fly out the window. somehow, you’re enough for him to feel safe, to feel valued.
“dabi, what are you talking about? did…did you have a bad dream?” you hold your palms carefully up to his cheeks, hovering just a small distance away in case he wants to pull back. but slowly, he leans into them, eyes closing as his hands grip the bottom of your shirt tightly. he exhales shakily as he stands there for a moment, relishing your presence.
“dream,” he mumbles—more to himself than you—before his eyes open and he’s suddenly walking past you back towards your bedroom with no further words.
“wha—hey! get back here,” you pull him by his arm, but dabi refuses to meet your eyes. “you gotta tell me what’s going on,” you say sternly, eyes expectant as they bore into his.
“it’s nothing,” he shrugs off your grip. his voice is tight and his shoulders are stiff and you know he’s lying. slowly, your legs carry you before you can think, and your chest is pressed against his back, arms wrapping around his torso while your face buries itself into his back. you press a soft kiss to the scarred skin through his shirt and his breath hitches for a moment.
“baby, you and i both know that’s not true,” you murmur. the hand that trails under his shirt and over his stomach soothes him gently, and against better judgment, dabi leans into your touch once more. he can never seem to get enough of you.
“’s just a stupid dream, doll,” he brushes off casually. and dabi’s always been one to brush away his feelings.
you know his nature, and you know it’s to run, to leave behind things he grows fond of so that he doesn’t have to shoulder the weight of rejection, but you also know his loyalty runs deep. he’s yours until his last flame gives out, and you want him to see you’d give him your all to keep even the tiniest of embers aflame.
“it’s not stupid, dabi,” you whisper. “not if it’s got you this worked up.” you slowly walk around to face him, and he still refuses to meet your eyes, staring at the floor with a clenched jaw as you reach to cup his face. he jolts away from your touch this time, and you pause, heart crumbling as he takes a step back.
“just drop—”
“you can tell me anything,” you cut him off. “you know that don’t you?” and he wonders if he truly can—if he can really tell you who he is, who he was supposed to be, who he’ll become. they’re all despicable in their own right, he figures. but then you whisper “i love you, no matter what.” and maybe it’s the child in him that grew up all too fast, but he’s always grown weak when you utter those words.
“you don’t mean that,” he scowls, turning his face to the side. the gentle kiss to his jaw, though he doesn’t admit it, makes his lips wobble.
“of course i do,” you soothe, wrapping your arms around his neck and gently playing with the hair at the base of his neck. “i hide a well-known arsonist in my tiny apartment, that’d be a pretty big risk to take for someone i don’t love, don’t you think?” you nudge his nose with yours playfully, smiling as he rolls his eyes. his arms slowly find their way to your waist, snaking around them.
“it’s cause you’re dumb as hell,” he mumbles, and something about the way he pulls you flush against his chest, as close as he can, seems almost desperate.
“you’re not any better,” you huff. “now tell me what happened.” looking down, he sighs heavily. “told you, it was a stupid dream, that’s all. you just wanted to break up…and stuff,” he trails off quietly. your eyes soften when he finally meets them.
“oh, baby,” you whisper. dabi hates the way you stare at him like he’s fragile, but he finds he craves the gentleness you offer too. “you know i’d never,” you promise. he gulps, the wall behind you suddenly more interesting.
“yeah, whatever. i told you, it’s dumb—”
“stop saying that,” you scold. “it’s not dumb, and i’d never leave you,” you say firmly. “you’re stuck with me.”
“yeah?” his forehead presses against yours and his grip on your waist is tight. you’re home, you’ve always been home—one he’d thought he wouldn’t ever find, and he doesn’t want to let it go.
the kiss to his lips is gentle, like it’s the last you’ll share with him. and maybe that’s why dabi believes you when you say you love him—you always cherish him like you’re afraid he’ll be gone the next second too.
“yeah,” you grin. “you won’t leave me behind either, right?” and finally, dabi chuckles, leaning in and kissing you hard as he hugs you close.
“getting rid of you as soon as you’re useless to me,” he grins. smacking his chest, you pout. dabi promises to himself he’ll give you everything he can’t right now, the tiny apartment on the wrong side of town wasn’t cut out for someone like you—someone so precious.
“dabi.” he huffs another quiet laugh as he presses a quick, chaste kiss to your forehead.
“i’m kidding. you can watch me burn shit right from my lap, doll,” he promises.
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kireirengoku · 15 hours ago
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Touch yourself for me
Dabi Racercar Au
CW: Guided Masturbation, Ruined orgasms, phone turned video call sex, Dom!Dabi, Sub!fem reader
Comments: Repost from my back up blog, @merumerucchi
Network: @planetonet
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I really hated it whenever Dabi was gone for a race. I missed him so much whenever he was gone. My fiancé, Touya Todoroki, known as Dabi the Cremator was the reigning  champion of the Grand Prix. He was away defending his title and unfortunately I was not allowed to come this time. I  changed into my pajamas, which consisted of one of Dabi’s large shirts and nothing else. I laid on the bed and flipped on the TV, quickly turning it to the channel the race was on.
My heart began to race when I spotted his sleek black car with chilling blue flames that curled into the number 26 on the sides. I cheered when I heard the announcer say that his car was in the lead by a lap and half with the other trailing behind. Dabi was going to win! As the white flag was waved to signal the last lap, I watched as Dabi soared around the track, his car smoothly gliding along the curves. My heart swelled with joy when the checkered flag was raised as his car flew past the finish line.
“YES!” I screamed, jumping to my feet on the bed and raising my hands above my head. As I was still cheering for my fiancé's victory, my phone rang. Without really looking at it, I answered rather annoyed, “Hello, what do you want? I’m trying to celebrate Dabi’s win!”
"Well, well, Dollface, is that anyway to greet your champion?”
A blush heated my face instantly at the sound of his gravelly voice. I quickly sat down on the bed and clenched my hands in my lap. I could felt myself getting wet just from his voice. “D-Dabi..I thought you were still racing. I just saw you.”
"You know that I never race live on TV.” His voice lowered in tone, knowing it would send shivers down his girl's body. He’d trained her to respond to his tone and he knew that she loved it whenever he growled in her ear over the phone. "Dollface, do you miss me?”
“What kind of question is that!” I yelled into the receiver. “You know damn well, I miss you!” I blinked when my phone buzzed with a notification that he was trying to video call with me. I realized that I was wearing one of his shirts and nothing else and my face grew even more hot. But I could not keep him waiting. Sighing, I pressed the button to accept the video chat. “Hi.” I said shyly.
Those chilling blue eyes of his narrowed slightly as he gauged her attire. “Damn, Doll, you must really miss me. You’re wearing one of my shirts. Does it smell like me? Does it feel like I’m wrapped around you?” His lips pulled up into a smirk as he watched her squirm around in her spot on the bed. Dabi knew that her little body must be aching for his touch. “Baby~” he purred out.
I jumped when he purred out my other petname as I felt a rush of heat flood my center. I rubbed my thighs together to ease the tension that was building up within me. “Dabi...I want you...”
“Baby, what do you want? Use your words or do you want me to tell you just how to touch yourself. How to touch that aching pussy of yours?” He sat back deeper into the chair he was sitting in, his pants becoming too tight. He pulled his zipper down to relieve some of the pressure. “You want to hear my voice while you imagine its my fingers fucking that slutty little hole of yours?”
I whimpered as I moved my hand down to my aching cunt. I needed him so much. I wanted to feel his fingers on me. "Dabi...please. Tell me what to do." I set the phone up on a pillow that gave him perfect view of my dripping pussy.
"Pull up my shirt and place it in your mouth." He instructed, pulling his dick out of his leather pants. His eyes watched as she did as she was told and his lips curled into a smile. She was always so obedient. He stroked his hand down the thick length. "Good girl..." Dabi purred. "Touch your clit. Just like that."
Another soft whine left my throat as I circled my sensitive flesh roughly. I used my other hand to twist and pull at my nipples. Fuck. "Dabi..." I said between the cloth in my teeth. “I...I...” I stammered, shifting my hands around and started to push two fingers into my clenching hole.
“Did I say you could fuck yourself on your fingers yet?” Dabi scolded, his eyes narrowing. He stopped stroking his cock and sighed as he tucked it away. “Now, you are going to have to wait until I return home to cum. You’d better not fucking touch your self until then, Dollface."
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kentoangel · 15 hours ago
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。˚ ✩ warnings. smut, afab reader
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dabi, even if it sounds odd, likes it when you’re selfish as you’re riding his dick. he likes — scratch that — loves the way you chase your own climax as he’s laying with his hands behind his head, eyes full of stars because you look so pretty gripping his sides, breasts bouncing uncontrollably (an extremely delightful sight for his sore eyes and his sore eyes only), eyes rolling to the back of your head. you’re sputtering nonsense, his name, how his cock feels so fucking good. before you know it, you’ve orgasmed and dabi has flipped you over to clean up your pretty mess, declaring it’s only right and fair — something you can agree with, since his pierced tongue feels like paradise against your folds. he’s the meaning of pleasure, he’s the one who makes you cum day and night, makes you moan his name like no other.
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yenyoulang · a day ago
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♡Don’t let me choose♡
Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader
Warnings: soft Dabi, SPOILERS (Dabi’s past), probably typos, angsty feelings, mild-yandere themes (?) 
Word count: 601
A/N: I am sick with one-sided interpretation of Dabi as some sort of heartless-sadist-creep, so here we go
Annotation:  They called him a villain, a heartless killer. Dabi certainly was not the most saint of all the people, but there was something behind his creepy facade, something that remained of his past self, or so Y/N hoped.
requests are open, but there’s always a chance that I wouldn’t be able to find time for writing:(
☆ have some fun today ☆
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They called him a villain, a heartless killer. Dabi certainly was not the most saint of all the people, but there was something behind his creepy facade, something that remained of his past self, or so Y/N hoped.
When she shyly looked in his ice-blue irises, she bet it was not Dabi, who stared back at her.
No.
That was not an indifferent and cold stare of a killer, instead it was warm and familiar, compassionate even... this were the eyes of a man she once knew, a man who used to love her, a man who was supposed to be dead.
She believed he was dead.
Was it wrong? To let him take her with him, to believe in the existence of a good side of a man, who has become a villain?
It was confusing.
The way his hand caressed her back, affectionately every night until they fell asleep, the way his brows furrowed in concern, at the sight of her quiet tears, his thumbs whipping away the wet traces on her soft cheeks... It was terrifying to realize that he was not the same caring person once outside their house, to know that the same warmth he provided to her, his quirk, was used against society...
"What's it, doll? What's on your mind again?" A low husky voice asked, once they were cuddling on his couch.
He noticed that something was bothering her, tugging on her nerves. He supposed it to be some kind of post traumatic stress, and was patiently helping her to acclimatize. He knew, that he had broken her heart in the past, but once he had her back to himself, he was not going to let that happen ever again. This is why he held her so tight yet so passionate every now and then.
"You know, you may tell me," his fingers went to shuffle her hair, massaging her scalp tenderly.
"I am... I think I am just afraid a little"  she muttered, voice muffled with his shirt as her head was rested on his chest.
"Well, what are you talking about, princess?"
The girl let out a sigh. How would he react if she told him that she was afraid of him? Likely he would not be pleased.
"It's hard to..."
"Is it because of me?" He interrupted. A hint of bitterness in his voice.
Y/N clutched his shirt tighter. This was getting dangerous.
"No," she replied almost too fast.
Uneasy silence hang among them.
"Y/N, listen... I am not going to hurt you. I thought this was obvious with the way things have been between us for the last month." If he was anger at her, he hid it very well. "I know I had... changed since our last meeting, I know that you have a right to hate me after everything. you may leave me if you want to, I would understand." he tried to remain indifferent, but a slight crack of his voice was still noticeable.
He stopped his movements. Mentally the man was ready for Y/N to stand up and leave. But she didn't.
He felt her arms snaking around him, her face nuzzling into his chest.
"Toya, I can't..." she sobbed. "I can't lose you... not again... Please, don't make me choose!" She begged.
His fingers were back in her hair, stroking them soothingly. She still saw him not for who he had become? This thought made his heart sore.
"I am not leaving ever again, darling." His calloused lips slowly kissed the crown of her head. "I love you," he whispered "And you love me, right?"
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Kindling the Flames
pairing: dabi x jewish!reader
word count: 4,865
summary: the hanukkah au in which dabi bust through your window on the first night of hanukkah and is too wounded to leave aka hanukkah sameach to my fellow jewish folk
warnings: swf but slightly suggestive, brief description of a wound, reader is jewish so mentions of religion, blessings, and other cultural practices, this is like mostly fluff w a hint of angst, i 100% wrote this to satisfy my need for a hanukkah au, let me know if i missed anything
notes: this is my first full fic im posting pls be nice !!
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The first time you see Dabi, he’s passed out on the floor of your living room, blood oozing from a nasty cut to his stomach. The bastard tracked snow into your house too. Wet, pinkish footprints litter the entrance to your living room, staining your freshly cleaned carpet. It’s been snowing for hours now, not the fluffy light snow that people wish for either; it’s that heavy, wet snow that fell too quickly and blanketed the world in its bitterness. You’ve always feared the cold; its presence has always filled your veins with ice water. Humans are warm which means life is warm. The absence of warmth means death.
The body on your floor is warm. He’s not dead, then, this mysterious stranger that broke into your house just as you where about to say the shehecheyanu. He doesn’t even feel close to death, which must mean he hasn’t lost that much blood. As you stand to scramble for a phone to call an ambulance, the man on the floor moves, his crimson hand jutting out to grab the skin of your ankle and you have to swallow down what would’ve been a rather pathetic yelp had you not caught it.
“No…no doctors,” the man slurs, lips curled in a halfhearted sneer. “No cops.” His fingers loosen and his hand slumps back down to the floor, unconscious once again. You’re going to call the cops. You’re at least going to call an ambulance. What kind of bleeding man wouldn’t want you to do that? A dangerous one, no doubt.
But you’re looking down at his face, and he doesn’t seem all that dangerous. He seems fragile, like something precious that needed to be handled with care. You have no experience stitching or sewing, but if you could just stop his wound from bleeding, he’d probably last the night. Maybe he even had someone you could call for in the morning.
***
Dabi wakes up on a sofa he doesn’t remember falling asleep on to the sound of something tearing. When he opens his eyes, your standing a few feet away from him on your tiptoes, patching up your smashed window with duct tape. The sight of you bundled up in a winter jacket armed with nothing but a dwindling role of peeling tape almost makes him laugh.
Almost.
His stomach hurts too much for him to actually let one out, so he settles instead for a, “the fuck are you doing?” For a moment he doesn’t think you’re going to answer, for a moment he’s worried that maybe the words didn’t actually make their way out of his mouth, but then you’re turning slowly towards him, something akin to anger glistening in your eyes.
“Some asshole smashed through my window last night. I think the legal term for it is breaking and entering, but I don’t make a habit of interacting with the criminal justice system of this country, so I could be wrong.”
And Dabi can’t help it, he is laughing now, wounded stomach be damned, because you must not know who he is if you’re willingly using that tone with him, you must not know that in a matter of minutes he could reduce your entire, dainty house to ash.
His amusement, however, is cut short by the searing pain in his torso. The exchange is still worth it; he’s used to trading pain for a little bit of pleasure.
“Fuck,” he swears suddenly, as the seriousness of his wound finally sets in. “You…you didn’t stitch it?” The statement isn’t technically true. Once you had seen how he was holding his many other wounds together—hundreds of rusty, old staples—you’d figured a few fresh ones couldn’t hurt him. Besides, doctors used staples nowadays too.
“I’m not a nurse,” you tell him plainly, returning to your window, “and you’re the one who didn’t want me to bring you to a hospital. I did the best I could given the situation. It’s not like I planned on having some stranger smash his way into my house of the fist night of Hanukkah.”
“I have to…” he begins, standing up too fast. The speed of the motion makes him lightheaded and sends him spiraling right back onto your couch. Head spinning from blood loss, it takes him a moment to realize you’ve abandoned patching up your window to tend to him. Your nimble fingers are tracing the outline of his pulsing puncture wound.
“Stop,” he shouts, or rather tries to shout. The word comes out whinier than he intended and if his cheeks weren’t already flush from the pain they surely would’ve reddened in embarrassment. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he tries again, remembering who he is.
He doesn’t remember reaching for your hand, but your fingers are intertwined with his, both of your hands hovering dangerously close to his injury. “It hurts?” you say, words coming out as a question rather than a declaration. Realizing how stupid that must have sounded you add, “we have to put pressure on it to quell blood loss. I’m not sure how deep the wound goes, but if it’s any deeper than an inch your odds of bleeding out are…”
The end of the sentence dies in your throat. You’ve made the mistake of looking into his blue eyes, and there’s something troubling in them. He’s like a wounded animal: hurt and afraid. He’s aware he needs help, but he’s unsure how to receive it. His wide eyes dart frantically from his wound to you as he weighs the pros and cons of just burning you and bolting. It’s not like he can let you live after this anyway. Not after you’ve seen him.
But his wound hurts; of course it fucking does; stab wounds always hurt, no matter how deep they go, though that isn’t why he doesn’t want you to touch it. Wounds are easy. Pain is easy. He was weened on it. Pain is familiar. He finds it comforting. Tenderness is its own kind of pain, though not one he has a tolerance for.
“Fine,” he eventually relents, releasing your fingers from his vice grip, “quell away.”
***
You manage to get the wound to stop bleeding a few minutes and a couple towels later, during which time Dabi had asked if you had any drugs and had nearly tore the wound back open laughing when you returned from the bathroom with a bottle of Tylenol.
After that he’d drifted back to sleep, and you finished taping the gaping hole in your window closed. It was a temporary fix at best, a band-aid over a bullet wound, but too much frigid air was seeping in through it for you to do nothing. Even with the layers of duct tape, a draft bellowed through your home now, a harbinger of another terrible night.
You check on him often. In between frying up latkes and lightening candles. After you’ve eaten dinner and before you brush your teeth. Despite the chill of the room, his body remains warm, like his heart is a coal smoldering inside him. You place the palm of your hand against his forehead one last time and slink off to bed.
He’s still there in the morning. You catch him rummaging through your cabinets around noon, muttering about the distinct lack of coffee in your home. “I can make hot chocolate,” you offer instead.
He stares at you incredulously, “why the fuck would I want hot chocolate?”
“Why would you want coffee?”
The two of you settle instead on orange juice and a breakfast of eggs and toast. He scarfs the food down like a man starved and doesn’t refuse when you offer to fry him up two more eggs. It occurs to you once again as he scarfs those down how fragile the man is.
“You got a name?” you ask him as he polishes off his third glass of orange juice. You’d left the cartoon on the table after realizing this man would sooner choke on his words than use them to ask for help.
“Most people do.”
You tell him yours.
He digs the meat of his knuckles into the brink of his nose. “Dabi,” he relents. “Name’s Dabi.”
***
The fourth night he asks you about your job and you tell him your agency was burnt to the ground last week. You’ve been furloughed ever since, but you’ve been taking the time to enjoy your holiday. You don’t normally get off for it unless it falls around Christmas.
There’s an ache in his chest as you talk about talk about the event. You were on your lunch break when it had happened and just missed being consumed by the flames. He wants to chalk up the churning in the pit in his stomach to the stab wound, but he knows that isn’t what the knife punctured. His own memories of that day swirl around in his mind as you talk, tumultuous and tormenting, raging like the outside storm. Something akin to regret seeps its way into the hollowness of his bones. It’s been so long since he’s been full of anything except hatred, he’s unsure what to do with it. He figures the only this left to do is apologize; he forces the word sorry past his lips.
You shrug at him as he does it, “it isn’t your fault.”
It is his fault, he thinks as you clear away his dinner plate. You’d fed him fried potato pancakes with sour cream, laughing about how some people prefer apple sauce or ketchup. He didn’t get the joke, but he didn’t celebrate this holiday. He didn’t celebrate anything.
It is his fault, he thinks as he watches you light the shamash. Again, you had laughed about something he didn’t understand, about the difference between a hanukkiah and a menorah. He wondered, then what it must be like to believe in something other than yourself.
It is his fault, he thinks as you hand him a crudely wrapped present. This time you were babbling about how the original holiday had little to do with gift giving. You’d wrapped a piece of the window he’d shattered in an old magazine for him. A keepsake to remember you by, you’d told him, as if he could ever forget someone like you.
***
The next day he realizes the sound of your voice has begun to sooth him. Listening to it gives him something other than the thoughts tumbling around in his brain to focus on. He starts pestering you with questions so that he can hear it. You don’t seem to mind. If anything, you seem to welcome the idle chatter, even if it is largely one sided.
“We eat fried food to commemorate that even though there was only enough oil to last one night, it kept the menorah lit for eight,” you’re telling him, eyes fixated on the simmering latkes. “You’re supposed to eat sufganiyot too, but I think they’re yucky, so I’ve always respectfully declined those at synagogue or parties.”
“Suf, suf-gone-what?”
“Sufganiyot,” you correct him, edges of your mouth quirking. “Jelly donuts. Horrible stuff. But it’s fried and we have to pay homage to the miracle oil, so most Jewish folk make do and gobble them up.”
When you don’t add anything else, he’s asking, “s’it true that the oil lasted eight nights?”
You laugh, turning one of the latkes over, “no, but it’s a fun story to tell the kids.”
His eyebrow quirks at that. Kids? What kids? You live in a one bedroom house, and he’s been staying with you for days, Surely if you had a family he would’ve at least seen a picture of them. (He’d looked for pictures of them one night after you’d fallen asleep, noiselessly scouring your apartment for tidbits of information about you. All he’d manage to discover is that you had nothing of value, sentimental or otherwise). “You have kids?” he asks just to satiate his curiosity.
You laugh again—Dabi’s unsure if it’s at him or with him— “no.”
“Why not?” he can’t help himself now from asking such invasive questions. You’re cute and kind and clearly care about others. How had someone not snatched you up already? “You’re that age. You have the hips for it.” The last sentence comes tumbling out of his mouth before his brain has the good sense to filter his words.
Your eyebrows raise, “I suppose I just never wanted any.”
He hums, rapping his fingers against your kitchen table, “so what’s it all about then?”
“What?”
“Hannukah,” he clarifies. “What’s it really celebrate?”
You smile at the question, eyes suddenly swimming with nostalgia. Someone important to you told you the story. Someone important to you passed this knowledge onto you, and now you were passing it onto him. “Victory in battle. The preservation of our culture. The success of a few brave warriors against a society hell-bent on changing or slaughtering them.”
He lets the words ruminate. That’s certainly different that the Hanukkah story he knew. He’s thinking suddenly about your ancestors, about a group of people joining forces to fight oppression, about a group of people who’d rather die fighting against persecutors than succumb to them. “Why,” he trails off, “why not teach the kids that?”
What he wants to ask is how could you not teach kids that? How could you know something so special and spin tales of an elaborate fantasy instead? Do the youth not deserve to know about the courage of their ancestors? Should they be denied such knowledge simply because they are young?
You’re plating him a latke when you respond to both his asked and unasked questions, “oil is more palatable than war.”
***
When he wakes the sixth day, the throbbing pain in his torso has subsided to a dull pressure. Rationally, Dabi knows he shouldn’t push himself, that he needs more time to heal, but your house is beginning to suffocate him. His clothes smell like the oil you fry your potatoes in; his skin is being held together by the staples from your stapler; everywhere he looks he sees things that are so distinctly you.
You’ve sunken your teeth deep into him, woven bits of your flesh to his.
He has to leave before he becomes more you than himself.
The problem is he’s still bloody from the fight. You didn’t have any clothes that would fit him, so you’d left him in his once white now red tattered t-shirt. And the snow hasn’t stopped falling since the night he broke in. It’s still gradually piling up outside your home. He thinks, maybe, that he could use the snow for cover—no one in their right mind would be out in such a storm—but in his current state he’s not sure that even his fire quirk could protect him from the raging blizzard. He’d fought too hard to get to where he was to let hypothermia or frostbite kill him.
He settles instead for a shower. Another horrible idea. The water feels warm against his skin, and he’s grateful for the water pressure, but everything in the bathroom reminds him of you too. He’s washing himself with your soap, shampooing himself with your shampoo. He wonders if he’s going to leave the house with any parts of him left.
He’s prodding at his healing wound with his fingers, towel tied snuggly around his waist, when you trot into the bathroom. Your eyes immediately find the puckered skin of his most recent battle scar, and you at least have the decency to not let your eyes wander to any others. You back out the door uttering a stream of apologies, and this time when Dabi closes the door behind him, he remembers to fucking lock it.
***
You stand on the other side of your bathroom door, willing yourself to calm down, trying to remember all of the breathing exercises and grounding techniques you once knew. The sight of Dabi shirtless in your bathroom has your heart lurching free of its confines as if it was trying to break free from where it’s imprisoned in your chest, like it’s trying to shatter the ribs that have for decades served both its protector and jailor.
Resentment quickly takes the place of whatever emotion you’d briefly been captivated by. This is your house. Dabi is the guest here. And he’s made himself a little too comfortable. Everywhere you look there’s something to remind you of the intruder in your home, from the broken window to the stained carpet, to the imprint on the sofa where he slept, to bloody bandages in the trash, to the pairs of dishes and glasses in the sink.
You have to ask him to leave. You have to make him leave.
You don’t.
Instead, you’re hanging one of your robes on the bathroom door for him. You don’t have anything that’ll fit his hulking form beside that, not even a pair of pajama pants. When the snow melts you can pick him up some shirts and sweats. Or not. He isn’t your responsibility. When the snow melts, he has to leave.
***
He watches you light the candles from his designated spot on the sofa. Always the tall one in the middle first, then the others. You told him the middle candle was called the shamash and it had to be lit first so that it could help light the others. He didn’t understand why you had a designated candle for that when your lighter could do the job just fine. He asks you to repeat the blessings several times. He asks you what they mean. You talk about higher powers.
“I’m not a man of faith,” he tells you. “The way I see it, faith is about as good as fathers are.”
You’d cocked your head at that, “how do you figure?”
He shrugs, “neither are worth believing in. Neither are ever there. At the end of the day, no one is listening to our prayers.”
You inhale slowly as you let his words marinate in your mind, contemplating if you should respond. “I think,” you say gently, averting your eyes, “I think you’ve just never had either.”
***
The seventh day the electricity and gas shut off. The storm outside has overwhelmed both systems. The electric and gas companies weren’t prepared for this much snow so early in the year. You’ve been walking around the apartment swaddled in your fuzziest pajamas and blankets, obviously suffering for the corporations’ lack of planning, but Dabi has never felt better.
The only thing nagging at him is that he’s barely seen you all day. You’d emerged briefly around noon to make yourself some hot chocolate, swearing when you realized that if the electricity was out, that meant your microwave was out of service, and then slinked right back to the comfort of your bed. It shouldn’t bother him that you’re not around as much; it’s not like he needs you for anything. The staples in his stomach are holding, and he’s familiar with the lay out of your kitchen. He could feed himself if he got hungry.
Still, though, he wants to see you. He misses your idle chatter. You’ve been such a constant in his life these past six days. Your absence is like a phantom limb.
A little after dark he wanders by your room. You’ve left the door open. He could walk right into it if he wanted to, which he does want to, yet he doesn’t. Your bedroom is the only place left in your house he’s yet to explore. He’s seen the rest of you, seen the way you organize your kitchen cabinets, seen the books you keep by the sofa for easy access, seen the skin care products in your medicine cabinet.
You hear him pacing around the outside of your room, just beyond the forbidden boundary of your door. You’d left it open on purpose hoping he’d come by in case he needed anything. It’s too cold in your living room now. The crude duct tape job you’d done on your window is barely holding. The room is saturated with the bitter outside air. You still fear the cold. It foreshadows something wrong.
“Can I help you?” you finally snap, words coming out harsher than you mean for them to. Your body has been eating through calories all day trying to keep itself warm, and no matter how many layers of blankets you’ve burrowed into, the coldness permeates them.
He’s standing directly under your doorframe now, his silhouette barely visible. You think that you may have startled him. Like everything else in the house, he appears frozen, waxen like a statue, but then he’s saying, “you haven’t eaten anything all day.”
“What do you care,” you bite, wincing as the words leave your mouth.
You’re pushing him away, you realize suddenly.
You fear more than just the cold.
“You have to eat something. It’ll help warm you up.” He isn’t sure why that’s what he choses to say to you. He’s never been one to concern himself with the well-being of others. He’s never cared. Caring sucks, which is why Dabi doesn’t make a habit of it. It leads to heartaches and mistakes. As a rule, Dabi doesn’t care, especially for people, but you, well, you’ve somehow become an exception to his rule.
“Can’t cook anything,” you reply.
“Don’t need to. I know you have cereal.”
The two of you eat it on the sofa, taking turns dipping your hands into the box, actions illuminated by the candles of your menorah. The meal isn’t satisfying, but your body is grateful for the extra calories, even if you had to leave the comfort of your bed to consume them. The two of you eat through the entire box in silence. It would seem Dabi’s out of questions to ask you.
“Finished?” he asks when the very last of the cereal has been eaten. He says it because it’s the only thing to say. He says it because it’s the only thing left to say.
His scarred fingers brush yours as he attempts to take the box from you, and you can’t help but moan at the contact. He’s so warm. Impossibly warm. His long, inky fingers are radiating heat like ten miniature rays of sun.
You hope, vainly, that he missed the pathetic sound that smuggled its way past your traitorous lips. For the first time all day, you’re thankful that the lights are out so he can’t see how flush you’re becoming.
He does notice, though—because of course he notices—and he just can’t resist teasing you about it. “What’ssa matter, hmm?” he’s cooing. “You cold princess?” He’s wrapping his hand around your wrist now, pulling it against the exposed flesh of his chest that’s peeking out from under the robe you’d given him.
“Fuck,” you whine, momentarily forgetting yourself, “how are you so warm?” You curl your frost-bitten fingers into the fabric of the robe. The cereal box drops to the floor beneath the two of you forgotten.
“If you weren’t so stubborn,” he preens, “we could’ve done this hourrrs ago.”
The words are mean and condescending, but they do little to deter you from scooching closer to him. How had you not noticed earlier that Dabi was a walking furnace? A mean furnace sure. Probably even a criminal furnace, but if you could really satiate your chilled body with his…
“Dabi…” you whimper, unsure of yourself. You want him to tug you closer. You want him to share his unnatural warmth with you. You want him.
And Dabi, Dabi is sure of himself. He’s scooting closer to where you sit on the sofa, pulling at you, drawing you into him so that you’re flush against his chest. He pulls you up and onto his lap, letting you burry your face into the crook of his neck. His legs are bare and warm beneath your own. You can feel his heat through the thick fabric of your pajama pants.
It should be enough, it is enough, but you selfishly want more. You hunger for his heat. You want to feast on his molten core. You want to tuck yourself inside the robe with him. You want to burrow deep into his skin, take up residence in his marrow.
You settle for pressing your fingers into the meat of his arms, letting them leech the chill from your hands.
“Dabi…” you try again, but he’s silencing you with a “shh, I know, I know,” while he strokes tenderly at your hair. He grabs at one of the many blankets you’d been tucked into earlier and wraps it around the both of you. “’M tired, baby,” he says, “just let me hold you. Let me have you. Let me take care of you. You’ve been such a sweet host, it’s only fair I return the favor.”
***
You wake to a steaming cup of hot chocolate in the morning. Dabi won’t tell you how he’d managed it, only that he had his ways. You cup your hands gratefully around the mug as he scoops you back into his lap, your protests falling on deaf ears.
“’S healed,” he mumbles into the top of your head as you remind him about his stab wound that keeps threatening to split back open. “But if you’re that worried about it, I suppose you can kiss it and make it better.”
You wrinkle your nose at the suggesting, taking a sip of your drink, letting it warm you from the inside out. The hot chocolate is both bitter and sweet on your tongue. The combination is safe and familiar. It’s somehow the best cup of hot chocolate you’ve ever had.
***
He asks you to read to him, which surprises you. You don’t tell him no. You pick up one of the paperback novels you’ve been working your way through and flip all the way back to the first chapter. The two of you take turns reading to each other until the sun dips to far beneath the horizon for either of you to make out any more words.
***
Your lighter refuses to work that night. You’ve been trying to coax a spark out of it for almost ten minutes now. When he tells you the thing is probably out of juice, your shoulders sag in defeat.
And fuck, the forlorn look in your eyes shatters something inside him. He recalls, briefly what it was like to be devoting to something. He remembers, fleetingly, what it was like to want to be a hero. “Close your eyes,” he tells you.
You blink at him, “why?”
“Just be a good girl and do as your told.”
When you open your eyes again, nine glowing candles greet them, their dim orange glow illuminating your tiny living room, their shadows dancing on the walls around the two of you. The urge to ask him how he managed to light your menorah is overwhelming, but you’re certain he’ll just tell you that he has his ways. You ask him anyway.
“Hannukah miracle,” he shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Dabi-”
“Shh,” he says, pulling you snug against him. “Mysteries are more palatable than truths. Besides, don’t you have some blessings recite?”
As he listens to you sing your prayer, he thinks vaguely about higher powers. Until now he’d always been worried that there was something out there watching him somewhere, omnipotent, keeping track of all of his sins so that when death finally came for him his place in Hell would already be carved out; now he’s worried there was never anyone watching at all.
He supposes it doesn’t matter if there’s someone out their listening to your prayers because he’s with you and he hears you. Your body thrums gently against his as you finish off the final blessing. He rubs the place below your bottom rib absentmindedly, thinking about genesis and creation and light.
He thinks about how Adam so willingly bit into the forbidden fruit, not out of naivete, but because the woman that he loved asked him too, because part of the fruit lived within her, which meant he needed part of it to live within him too. Dabi doesn’t think he could refuse the offering of a beloved one. He’d tear ravenously into forbidden fruits too.
In this scenario, Dabi’s unsure if you’re the temptress or the tempting. Are you Eve, Adam’s beloved, or are you the fruit, humanity’s beginning? Has your home become his Eden? What will he do with all the newfound knowledge bore to him from the sacred tree?
You turn to him after a couple of minutes, eager eyes illuminated by the golden flames, “Remind me, have I taught you the art of playing dreidel yet?”
He shakes his head and lets you guide him back into the living room where the two of you play dreidel until the flames from the menorah burn too low to read the lettering. He sits holding you on the sofa long after the candles burn out.
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deleteddewewted · a day ago
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Giving you creative freedom 😅😅 chubby fxreader with either Dabi or Shinso. Just horny and thirsty for anything ;)
- C
NSFW
(Dabi. I like a challenge. How about some nipple play with nipple piercings and tongue piercings?)
The cool sensation of the hard metal abasing your clit made you ride his face harder. He was clearly running out of air but he wasn't complaining, in fact, no real noises came out of him other than the sound of his wet tongue abasing your dripping cunt. He sucked and mouthed at the sensitive bundle of nerves while he pushed his finger into your ass and gently thrusted it in and out. You took the chance you got and played with the circular barbell he had on his nipple. You pulled and played with the piercing and watched as his nipples stretched with each tug. Dabi moaned as you messed with him and he pushed his tongue inside you to stop his pleasured sounds from humiliating him even further.
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sukunababy · a month ago
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STOCKHOLM
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Day 13. Yandere
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Pairing: Yandere!Dabi x f!reader
Synopsis: In order for you to be safe, he had no choice but to subject you to his will, making you a real doll 
Warning: Yandere!Dabi, stockholm syndrome, manipulation, dubcon, deepthroating, blowjob, hair pulling, f. masturbation, cum eating
wc: 0.9 k
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Reblogs and interactions are appreciated
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Kinktober m.list
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"Good morning, doll" he smiles as you blink a few times to adjust your eyes to the light in the room.
Your head aches as you sit up, "where ..." you try to say but he shushes you, "it's okay" he murmurs laying a finger on your lips, "you're safe here".
The chain around your neck jingles as you try to move, "what ..." it feels like days you've been standing still in that cage.
"Dabi..." big tears start to flow down your cheeks, "I want to go back home" you pray that the man in front of you will listen to your pleas but he gives a sadistic smile before opening the cage door and undoing the chain, "come out baby" he says in a soft voice.
You are forced to crawl to get out of your little pink cage, and when you are outside he sits on the floor spreading his arms wide to let you sit down, "you know I can't, doll" he whispers in your ear, "it's for your own good, I am the only one who can protect you".
You still remember how sweet he was the first time you dated, candlelight dinners, walks in the woods, moonlight sex on the beach. But soon that slight obsession with you had turned into something bigger.
Dabi had gotten into the habit of checking your mail, your phone, following you when you went to work and when you went out with your friends. When you decided it was time to put an end to it he set your entire apartment building on fire, "to make it up to you, I'm going to let you stay with me" he had told you, "I'm so sorry" he whispered as he dressed the wounds his flames had given you.
"Drink," he said when, once at his house, he handed you a glass of juice.
You remember how after one sip your head had started to spin, and then darkness.
When you opened your eyes again then you were inside a cage, pillows, blankets and stuffed animals kept you warm. You don't even know how long it was, every time you opened your eyes and started to cry, Dabi would cuddle you and then give you a drink, after that you would always collapse into a deep sleep.
"Dabi please" you cry as he keeps stroking your hair with his thumb, "it's okay" he hums kissing your forehead, "here drink this" he says handing you a glass filled with juice.
"Nooo" you yell hitting his hand and causing him to drop the glass which shatters on the ground. He is calm when he looks at you, "did you see what you did?" he asks pouting.
His pout soon becomes a smirk as he stands up and pulls down his jeans, "you know what you get when you disobey" he says starting to pump his cock into his fist.
"I want to go home" you whimper wiping your tears with the back of your hand, Dabi clicks his tongue before answering, "but honey, you don't have a home anymore" he murmurs with a smirk, "you only have me".
He taps his cock on your lips when the tears stop running down your cheeks, "open" he orders pushing himself inside your mouth.
His piercings are cold as they stroke your tongue, and his big head scratches at the back of your throat as soon as he pushes his hips against you, "be a good girl, come on" he says pressing his hand behind your head and shoving his swollen cock down your tight throat.
Drool runs down your chin as you pull your tongue out for more room for his cock, "so good" he moans as you start to bob your head back and forth, suppressing sobs and gags taking him deeper and deeper.
The words die in your throat as you remain breathless, "slow baby" he chuckles pulling out of your moist lips slightly, "you're my pretty little toy aren't you?" he murmurs moving back and forth, your hair in his fist as he fucks your throat mercilessly.
As he continues to use you as if you were his own personal fleshlight his words keep buzzing in your head, "I don't have a home anymore" the tears begin to flow down your face again, your throat begins to burn after the several strokes Dabi inflicts on it, - "I only have him," you grab his shaft with one hand as you slide the other into your shorts, - "he's the only one who can protect me."
"Mhp ..." you moan with your mouth full, you rub your nub quickly as you run your hand over his cock, "good you finally got it" he smirks throwing his head back, "don't stop" he urges you as you run the tip of your tongue along his thick vein, "shit, doll" he moans.
Your juices wet your thighs as you cum on your fingers, "you came, good girl" he praises you - "that's what I want" his big cock twitches as you suck the tip, you make him cum slowly in your mouth, swallowing sip after sip of his seed.
"You're my good girl," he murmurs as you quickly swallow his cock one last time and sit back on your heels.
Satisfied with your new attitude Dabi leans over you, his blue eyes in yours are bright, "do you still want to leave?" he asks with a smirk. - "no Dabi" you murmur batting your eyelashes, "why not?" he asks rubbing his calloused thumb over your lips, "because Dabi is the only one who can keep me safe" you suck his thumb into your mouth when he leans over his knees, "that's my good girl" he murmurs pushing you into your little pink cage.
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Taglist: @cinnamonwishes @akinokisetsu @kuroohoeee @cookiesformytummy @ghostietales @kamizama @eremikakisses @softjaegerhours @Nelvvyyy @NamiKawaiiNeko @haobrcndy @heichouswife @nezsded @mutsu422 @justcellie @tangorohamado @atshena @br4tsuki @shawtybethicc @akiko-cum @whalecage @daddykakashisensei @dibhachu @kamustyles @akaashi-todorki @katsuki-baby @zekesblckgf @smilling-death @suga-tofu @bluellama7 @tojibreedingme @tirzamisu @yumijeager @haitanihime @quacksonlover81
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fuwushiguro · a month ago
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I'm Locked In This Space
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Day Twenty: Lactation + Bukkake | 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Tomura Shigaraki x Dabi x Twice x cow hybrid f!Reader Genre: Smut Notes: this is a sequel to this... enjoy 🐮 (you can probably read this without reading part one but... part one is bomb and u should totally read it 🤪) Warnings: 18+, noncon, pseudocest, lactation, bukkake, rough touching, nipple play, degradation, praise, group sex, cumplay??, fingering, masturbation, dacryphilia, slapping, spitting, kicking, hair pulling. Words: 3.7k
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“Nii-San! Too rough!” you cry. “Too rough with me!” you continue.
“Shut up,” Tomura hisses. “They’re fucking broke, why doesn’t it ever work when I do it?” he complains.
“Because you’re a fucking incel and have no idea how to touch women.” Touya teases.
The light provocation is more than enough to rile up your brother. And who is lucky enough to be at the receiving end of his frustration? You. He slaps you, spits in your face and shoves you further into the ground. That slinky tail of yours waves around in the air as you try and pick yourself up. It was like you were begging for Tomura to yank it. You screech eerily, it’s jarring enough to cause everyone to cover their ears.
This would not be happening if your daddy wasn’t away on business. Touya was right, Tomura didn’t have a clue how to touch a woman. But your daddy was perfect. You miss him. He’d keep you safe; he always does.
If only Tomura and his friends hadn’t stumbled across your little indiscretion with your daddy. If only Tomura hadn’t discovered that your tits leak milk when you’re aroused.
You wouldn’t be in this fucking mess right now.
Jin drops to the ground. He can be just as mean as the others, but he has a sweet side too. There’s no doubt that he’s your favourite of Tomura’s friends. You curl your body away from him, still sceptical of his intentions. But he looks at you with pleading eyes. He’s begging for you to trust him. And maybe you’re dumb for having faith in him; but something is telling you to believe he won’t hurt you.
He sits with his back to the wall and spread legs, inviting you between them. You accept. You shuffle along, doing your best to prevent the swishing of your tail. If any of them must violate you like this, desperate for their milky reward, you’d rather it be Jin. He hooks his feet around your ankles, spreading you open for your brother and Touya to see. You nestle your face into the crook of his neck. You’re embarrassed, ashamed. He doesn’t mind. He wants to help.
Two thick fingers plunge into your already sopping hole. You mewl from the stretch, his fingers are a lot bigger than your brother’s. He lightly rolls a nipple between his finger and thumb. You instantly feel at ease. It’s obvious he has experience, something your dear brother severely lacks.
“Just relax sweetheart, gonna make you feel good.” he whispers as his face turns to you. A grin forms on his face when he sees your cute little ears twitching from the positive reinforcement. “Cum already! I’m getting bored!” he adds, the risen volume making you jolt.
You wrap an arm around his neck, pulling your face closer into him. For some reason, it’s irritating Tomura. He’s never been protective of you before. He hates you, after all. But seeing Jin be so kind to you and seeing how affectionate you are with him. He’s worried. Is he, jealous?
“You’re doing great baby, sorry I shouted. I didn’t mean it okay?” Jin hums. You nod, tears pricking at your eyes. It’s so unusual for boys your age to be nice to you. Tomura had made it very clear that you would never be allowed to make friends at university, he easily turned everyone against you. So, to have Jin be so sweet with you, almost like a friend. It was foreign, but it was nice.
“Stop being fucking nice to her, makin’ me feel like I shouldn’t be watching.” Touya interjects. Jin snickers but ignores his friend. Much to Tomura’s chagrin.
“Come on bitch, cum for me already!” Jin repeats in a similar vain to his previous outburst. How could you possibly cum when you were so nervous? But because of his irritating secondary voice, he’d mastered the art of speaking whisper quiet when he needed to. He lined his mouth up with your little, twitching ears, so he could help move things along. “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” he murmurs. “even your cow parts, in fact, I think they make you even prettier.” he confesses. You pull your face out of your hiding spot and look at him.
“Yeah?” you whisper back.
“Yeah.” he assures you. The feeling of his big fingers fucking your insides all of a sudden feels a lot more enjoyable. “Think you can cum f’me? Wanna make you feel good, gorgeous.”
Tomura has had enough, he’s not about to stand around and watch while you have a private conversation with his friend. Slut. Ugly cow slut. He begins to approach to drag you away from him, but Touya has noticed something he hasn’t. He holds his arm out to prevent him from moving any further. Your cute little face scrunches up and your mouth falls into an ‘O’ shape as your brother’s blonde friend batters your insides. The squelching is obscene, you’re desperate for this to be over so you can get on with your day. You’re close, so close.
“Jin!!—Nggh!” you moan.
You feel embarrassed as you cum in front of an audience. Touya and Tomura are lording above you while Jin holds you gently against him on the ground. You’ve done what they ask. So, you know what’s next.
“Make her do it, Jin.” Tomura commands. So Jin gets to work, pulling gently and carefully on the nubs of your breast. It’s so tender, loving. It reminds you of how daddy is with you. “Hurry up.” Tomura orders. With the right pull and a perfect pinch, your breasts are leaking. Tomura scrambles to the ground and hurries towards you, not wanting to waste a drop. He latches onto your breast and suckles greedily.
“Fuckin’ freak.” Touya hums. It’s ignored by your brother, he’s too drunk on the treats from your teats.
He wipes his mouth breathlessly as he takes all that you can give. He looks up at Touya, unashamed of his behaviour. He just pants, and pants. Until finally, he smiles.
“Make her do it again, you both need to taste it.” Tomura commands.
Jin gets to work on rubbing your swollen clit, eager to make this nightmare end for the both of you. It’s a relief that you’re so sensitive already, it takes no time at all to have you on the verge of cumming again. Jin stares intently into your eyes as you come closer and closer to the precipice. He’s telling you that you can do it. You’re amazing and you can do it. So, you do. God, you do. Jin begins tugging on your nipples again before Touya objects.
“I’m not an incel like this freak, I got it.” he tells his friend.
You’re yanked away from Jin and pulled onto Touya as he sits comfortably on the ground. He has you straddling him. He bites his lip as he admires the changes of your face. You must like it when your nii-san’s friends touch you. Whore. Stupid cow whore.
“Do my fingers feel good, sweetheart?” he asks you. You nod. He pinches a little harder, making you wince. “Words, doll. Tell me how good my fingers feel.”
“G-Good, Touya. Feels good.” you admit. It wasn’t a lie. It was obvious Touya had the most sexual experience out of Tomura’s friend group, and yet, you much preferred it when Jin was touching you. He pulls you closer to him, lacing his fingers through your hair and pulling you downwards. The skin of your neck is completely exposed, he nibbles lightly on your pulse point which makes your cunt clench around nothing. He lets you go, resuming his tender rolling of your nipples. And soon, they’re leaking once again.
“Taste it.” Tomura instructs.
Touya latches on, not offering Tomura a verbal response but feeling more than comfortable to flip him off. He’s devouring your essence. It is good. He supposes he understands why Tomura can’t get enough. Shit. He can’t get enough, either. He pulls away, he isn’t breathless like Tomura, but it was certainly an awakening for him. His lips are parted, they’re decorated with speckles of white milk. The upper and lower lip are connected by a milky, webbed string. He smirks at you, pursing his lips and making kissy noises.
You know what he wants.
You lean down to kiss him. And it’s weirdly intimate. Passionate, in fact. It enrages Tomura. He tries to intervene, but Touya sharply kicks him away. He huffs and groans. He’s furious. But what can he do? It’s Jin’s turn, anyway. He’ll just have to keep getting jealous until he makes his friends leave.
“Let Jin try,” Tomura speaks. But Jin shakes his head.
“Not interested. Let me taste your tits babe!” both of his friends were confused. Two conflicting points, but they always know which voice to believe. Why didn’t he want a turn? “You guys… You’ve skeeved me out. Freaks, both of you. I don’t wanna do it.” he confesses.
“Suit yourself.” Tomura responds.
“Aw, I think Jin’s in love. Tryna take the fuckin’ high road and make us look shitty?” Touya torments.
Jin huffs, searching for his cigarettes and lighter in his jacket pocket. He nods along with Touya’s statement, anything to placate him. He doesn’t love you, obviously. He doesn’t know you. You’re just Tomura’s little sister. He thinks you’re cute, but love? Tch. In any case. As cute as he thinks you are, he isn’t going to miss out on the finale.
Jin stands to his feet, as do Tomura and Touya. The sound of three zippers coming down whirrs through your mind and sends a disgusting, unexplainable feeling through your senses. You can’t handle getting gang banged. Not today, not ever. But that isn’t what this is. Don’t you worry your slutty little head about that.
Three menacing glares were fixed on you. Glowering down at your frightened, confused form. Jin was different, like he’d become a new person. The sweet, caring whispers were a thing of the past. All three of them had removed their hardened cocks from the confines of their trousers and are pumping away.
“T-Tomura-nii?”
“Sit nicely for nii-san.” he tells you, the familiar slit of his cock looking you dead in the eye. “You’ve been a good girl for us today, so we’re going to give you our milk now.”
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Tomura ordered you to stay on your knees until they were done with you. The hard, cold flooring was less than comfortable for your aching legs. It was upsetting that zero of the three men standing before you thought to offer you some comfort in the form of a couch cushion or a blanket. But you aren’t surprised. They’re only out for themselves.
“Who’s first?” Tomura questioned.
“Probably you, right? Two pump chump, fuckin’ virgin.” Touya remarks, smirking once more as he finds himself so damn amusing.
“’m not a fucking virgin anymore!” Tomura argued.
“Why is that again? Oh yeah, because you bullied your little sister into fucking you and she agreed so that you’d like her more.” Touya continued.
“Shut up, Touya.” Tomura seethed, “You go first, fucking asshole.”
It was odd, really. That they were snapping and staring at each other while they had their dicks out. It was like they were threatening each other with their erections. A standoff, almost. It was even weirder that they didn’t seem to notice it was an unusual thing to do with friends. Maybe they’ve done this before, another innocent girl in the exact same position you are. But Touya shrugged. He was happy to go first. He’s been aching for a while now, and he couldn’t wait to see what you looked like covered in his pearly white cum.
His fingers laced through your hair yet again, forcing you to look up at him. He was smiling, really smiling. A cheesy, skin crawling smile that sent fear from the tips of your ears to the edge of your tail. Touya didn’t seem to be embarrassed that he had the shortest length in comparison to his friends. It wasn’t short by any means. Easily six inches. A nice length, not too thick either. It didn’t bother him at all. He has the most experience. He has the record for girls he’s made cream themselves. The size doesn’t matter, he knows what to do with it.
The blood pumps through his cock as he continues beating his length. His eyes fluttered closed as he focuses on his impending high. Memories race through his mind of girls he’s fucked and orgasms he’s experienced. His teeth grit. God, you’re so cute. You’re better than any of them. His eyes open again, and he bites his lower lip, harsh enough to draw blood. It’s your eyes, you see. Your sweet, innocent eyes all blown to hell. It’s like you’re pleading with him to not do this to you. But he has to. He needs to.
“Gonna look so pretty, painted with my cum.” he croons. You feel slick dribble out of your sloppy cunt. If there’s one thing you like about Touya more than anyone else, it’s his voice. And now, with the way you’re squirming on the ground, he’s picked up on it. “D’ya like my voice princess? Like it when I talk dirty, and low?” he wonders. You nod.
Your eyes are watery. The way his tip leaks doesn’t go amiss, so wet and ready to cover you in his wasted kids. He feels himself getting hotter. His forehead coated in a thin, sheen layer of sweat. Inky black locks sticking down against him. He’s running out of air, out of resolve. He can’t last. He needs to give it to you.
“Gonna cum, doll. G-Gonna— Ah, oh – fuuuuuck – take it.” he growls. Watery, white sperm lands on you. It’s hot, boiling almost. It’s warmed your entire face. You feel sick when you realise he got in your hair. It seems endless. Has it been a while for the resident stud? “Thaaaat’s it. Fuck, looks so fuckin’ good babe.” he groans, forcing out the last of his release.
You feel filthy. And it’s only going to get worse, two more scumbags to go.
Tomura wants to be last, process of elimination dictates that Jin is next. He lights up another cigarette in his mouth before forcing you to look up at him. It’s erotic, somehow. It certainly makes you more aroused, seeing his cigarette latched between his lips as he jerks himself off in front of you.
He can see the adoration in your eyes, too. Fuck, maybe he does love you. It’s undeniably a sight he can get used to. You still trust him, don’t you? That’s sad. That is real sad, actually. Simply because he showed the tiniest bit of kindness to you, you’re giving him more credit than he deserves. He meant what he said, but he only said those things to make you cum.
Jin is the biggest of the three, by far. Thick and long. Veiny, too. It didn’t surprise you at all. He’s the tallest of the three and it’s easy to see he’s got the biggest build. You knew the blonde would have a monster betwixt his thighs.
The cigarette is giving away how close he is, how desperate and needy he is to cum. With each inhale, the smoke comes out of his nostrils in shaky, erratic breaths. You’re perfect. You’re perfect. Yes, you’re fucking perfect. He loves you. He loves you, has he always loved you? He doesn’t love you, yes he does! He can’t love you. He’s been through this; he doesn’t know you. But look at you. So obedient, so beautiful, so willing. You love his cock, don’t you? Better than Tomura’s and Touya’s. He’s hoping you think you might love it more than your daddy’s.
“Say you love me,” he speaks, orange embers on the tip of the cigarette flickering playfully as he talks. “say it, say it darlin’. You love my fat cock, don’t you skank?!”
“I- I-“
“Fucking say it.”
“I… I love you Jin. I love your… your…” you gulp. The little bob in your throat makes his eyes roll over white momentarily. He wants to see his cock shoved down there, he knows it’d choke you. But you’d try your best for him, wouldn’t you? You love him after all. You’d take his heavy cock down your throat. That’d prove you love him alright, if you let Jin fuck your tight li’l throat. Next time. And away from these degenerate freaks.
His cigarette almost drops from his lips, but he catches it skilfully with his teeth. The way you jump and quickly close your eyes as he shoots his cream onto you is the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen in his whole entire life. He grunts loudly, it’s manly and so erotic. He seems older than the other two. More mature. Touya may have fucked more girls, but Jin seems more grown. He doesn’t care to argue with them when they start. He isn’t interested in comparing dick sizes and he has no desire to get into competitions over girls. He’s here to cover you in his cum, and that’s all that matters.
His head droops backwards while he orgasms. Smoke from his cigarette dances and twirls upwards towards the ceiling. His contribution to your skin is both better and worse than Touya’s. It’s thicker. You prefer thick, creamy cum over runny. Although in this instance, you can’t stand it. It already felt disgusting to have one person’s essence on your skin. And now, they’re mixing. You’re sticky and gross. And you still have one more to go.
Your dear nii-san.
And what a pretty nii-san he is. The skinniest guys always have the longest cocks. Though he was still beat in length by Jin, he had a skinnier shaft too. Each of the men above you had something different to offer, and you were more nervous than ever now it was your brother’s turn. He jerked himself off with one hand as he ruffled his hair momentarily with the other. No wonder he’s so well liked and popular. He’s just so handsome. You still couldn’t believe he was a virgin until he fucked you. How weren’t girls throwing themselves at him?
“You’ve n-never looked better.” he smiles, observing your features. “All of this cum is covering that ugly face of yours.” he taunts, Cheshire grin taking over his face as he snickers at you.
“Tomura-nii… ‘m not ugly.” you sniffle, unable to hide your hurt feelings from them. Touya laughs lazily down at you. But Jin turns away. He can’t stand to watch, to listen. But he’d never defy Tomura or challenge him. Maybe he doesn’t love you as much as he thought. It was pre-orgasm hysteria.
“You are, though.” he replies to you. “An ugly little cow. You should be grateful my friends and I are giving you the honour of our cocks. No one else will, you know. No one wants to be with a freak of nature like you.” he spits.
“P-Please, stop…” you beg. Your fat tears roll down your face and mix with the copious amounts of cum covering you already. You truly have never, ever felt so disgusting and so used. But this is what Tomura wants, you don’t realise it. But there’s something so arousing about seeing you cry.
“Aw, poor little bitch. Did nii-san upset you?” he asks, and you nod. “Good. Ugly whore. You look even uglier when you c-cry.” he stammers. Voice betraying him eventually as he climbs towards his release.
He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand, eliminating the glossy sweat that’s making his icy blue locks stick to him just as Touya’s hair had been. Tremoring fingers begin to scratch at his skin, his neck. He’s anxious suddenly. Why are you fucking looking at him like that? You know how. Like you always do. So fucking needy and upset. He yanks your right ear, and you yelp woefully.
“Open your mouth for me.”
And you do. And for some reason, that is what makes him lose it. Your willingness to please your nii-san in any way that you can. The immediate enthusiasm to open your mouth if it means it will gratify your brother. And it’s wet. Your mouth, it’s so fucking wet. Your pink muscle vibrating in your mouth as you wait for him to deposit his load inside. Spit strings between your teeth. He feels stupid now, too. Because like Jin, he wishes he’d fucked your ugly little face instead. Give you a real reason to cry. He only spurts a little into your mouth. The rest squirting across your cheeks and into your eye. It stings, fuck, it really stings. As if you needed any more of a reason to cry.
“Good girl, stupid cunt. Y’hear me? My stupid cunt, nii-san’s ugly little cow.”
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They’ve all tucked themselves away now. Ready to move on and head out somewhere for more fun. They aren’t sure what could be more fun than that. They can’t wait up to meet up with Kai and tell him how badly he missed out. Tomura has forbidden you from moving from that exact spot until they’re out of the penthouse. You’re cradling your bloodshot eyes. Praying desperately that they leave quicker. You want a shower; you want an ice pack. You want to be alone.
Jin halts as Touya and Tomura enter the elevator. He explains he forgot something, and he’ll meet up with them in a few hours. He’s gotta go home and pick up some things. They shrug their shoulders and bid him farewell. Tomura has known Jin long enough now, he trusts that he won’t try and steal anything. He trusts that he’ll retrieve whatever it is he’s forgotten and get out.
But he won’t.
He won’t, because he hasn’t forgotten anything.
He approaches you. Jin crouches down on the balls of his feet and offers you a hand. He’s smiling. Not menacingly. Not with an ulterior motive. He’s just smiling, earnestly.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”
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© 2021 fuwushiguro
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sunnyfunerals · a month ago
Note
Dabi x reader in squid game where Dabi is a masked guy and reader is a player 👀
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Squid Game AU - Masked Guy!Dabi x Player!Reader
Squid Game AU Masterlist
TW: Slight spoilers for the nature of the 5th game, Mentions of Murder and Violence (in the context of the games), Smut.
If the masked guys are all the same, there's one you can't help but recognize, simply because he's always there, watching.
If the masked guys are all the same, there's one you always recognize.
He's one of the more powerful ones. You know that because it's not a circle or a triangle adorning his face, but a square, and you sometimes hear him barking orders to others, nameless workers wearing different shapes that put them below him by the rule of their weird hierarchy.
Circle, triangle, square.
There are not many occasions for staff and players to meet, and yet he seems to take every opportunity to do so, if only, maybe, to get close to you. When someone dies and he comes into the dorm to assess their passing, he makes sure to walk close enough to you that his gloved fingers brush against yours. Another time, his hand discreetly creeps higher until it rests on your ass and tears a quiet yelp from your lips while the players are given their dinner and you're waiting on the side. You can almost hear an amused scoff escape the confines of his mask then.
But he doesn't have a name, doesn't have a face.
Still, he's always watching, whenever he's around, and you start watching him, too. Wondering what kind of expression he's hiding under the black metal, thinking about the color of his eyes. Brown? Green? You have a feeling they might be blue, but you might be wrong. Who knows, after all?
He kills, and kills, and kills, and yet you simply watch.
You feel less like a nameless player, like a random number in a murder game when his gaze is focused on you. And it's nice, in a way, to know that there is still someone who might remember you even if you lose the game. You wonder if he'd be especially careful when wrapping up your corpse.
The very thought is disgusting, and it keeps you awake at night, horror pooling in your gut, fear coating your throat and making it hard to breathe.
"I need to go to the bathroom," you say one night when you can't bear it anymore, knocking on the tall door leading towards the hallway.
Others have struggled with such a demand before you; you've seen it happen a few times. That lady who had to shout and scream for someone to pay attention to her and allow her the permission to go relieve herself.
But not you.
The door opens less than a second later, and he's there.
Watching.
He leads you towards the bathroom, a few corridors away. You expect him to wait for you outside, but instead, he enters right behind you, closing the door before leaning against it, arms crossed in front of his strong chest.
It's as if his demeanor changes then, and you know he's smirking behind his mask.
Dangerous.
"There are no cameras here, angel," he tells you. You've heard his voice before, but this time it's lower, deeper. It brings shivers running down your spine. "I have to be here to make sure you don't try anything stupid."
He says it as if he wished you'd do exactly that. Something stupid.
And of course, that's what you do.
"Can I see your face?" you ask.
Silence fills the room, and you bite your lower lip.
"Since there are no cameras, I thought..."
He doesn't reply. Instead, his gloved hand rises to his face, taking a hold of his mask. Pulling it off, until it falls to the ground with a clang.
He has the prettiest eyes you've ever seen. And you were right, they're blue. The beautiful blue of the sky in summer, of those blueberry sorbets you like, of cold, merciless ice. Strands of black hair fall gracefully in front of his scarred face, and, as expected, a smirk pulls at his lips as he stares at you.
Eyes hungry, famished, devouring everything in their way.
"Like what you see?" he asks and he blinks, the slightest bit surprised, when you nod.
"I do."
Silence hangs over the room once again, only troubled by the sound of water dripping in one of the stalls, somewhere further in the room. The nameless man watches you again, carefully, and it feels weird to be able to really, truly watch him back.
You can't say that you're not enjoying it.
"Come here," he says, in the same tone he uses in the games. Strict, cold, merciless.
But you're not scared when you walk up to him and he raises gloved palms to your cheeks, cradling your face in the same hands he used to kill, kill, and kill again, right before having his underlings wrap up the corpses in pretty present boxes.
You don't think about the dead when he leans towards you to pull you into a burning kiss.
And you don't think about the blood he spilled when his hand slips under your shirt and rises, brushing against your skin until he starts playing with your breasts through the thick fabric of his gloves.
The action tears a surprised moan from you, and he laughs against your lips, mean, cruel, monster of a man and yet so warm and gentle when his tongue slids inside your mouth to toy with yours. It isn't long before he pulls at the hem of your pants until they're lying on the dirty bathroom floor, and he uses both hands then when placing them under your thighs to carry you towards a sink so that he can play with you at will as you sit there, the perfect height for him to feast on your lips.
You don't even notice him stealing your panties, slipping them in the pocket of his uniform to use them later, when you're not around.
For now, you are around, though, and his takes off one of his gloves using his teeth, slowly, never breaking eye contact with you as he does so, delighting in your expression because you know what's coming next.
"You've been feeling lonely in these dorms, haven't you, baby?" he asks, ever so condescending. "Tell me what you need, and I might just give it to you. Anything for our dear players, after all."
You might be a player but he's the one playing with you as his fingers hover over your clit, never touching it, waiting for you to give in.
And you do, you do, you do.
"Please, touch me, S-sir..."
You don't know his name but the title has him go feral and he attacks you, cruel and merciless in the way he makes you come undone under his touch, leaving a trail of kisses along your throat as you cry in pleasure, tears rolling down your cheeks and mind too blurry to mutter anything but please.
"Want you, want your cock, Sir, please, please..."
Maybe it's the despair, maybe it's the loneliness at this point, and you know you shouldn't crave for the very person who murdered every single friend you made in this god-forsaken place, for the very person who wouldn't hesitate to raise a gun to your forehead and shoot, but yet you do, and it's as excruciating as it feels exquisite.
He unzips his red outfit, revealing his strong, scarred chest right beneath, and the fabric falls over his hips until he pulls it down just a bit lower along with his underwear to free his aching cock. It stands proud against his stomach, little pearl of precum on top faintly gleaming in the weak lights of the bathroom, but you don't get to stare for long.
A second later, the tip brushes against your folds, and inside it goes.
It feels huge between your walls, and the man laughs when it tears a muffled scream from your lips. His hand rises to your forehead and he pushes away a strand that stuck to the clammy skin there, his gesture almost kind, gentle.
"I'm going to take real good care of you, number 022," he says, softly kissing the shape of your jaw.
And he does.
His rough strokes inside you have you come undone around him twice more before he paints your walls white, cumming with a low, deep groan that you wouldn't have expected from the cold leader of the Squid Game's Masked Staff.
Later, when you put your sweats back on (without your panties - you can't find them anywhere), he stares at you again, his gaze on you now a familiar feeling that you've come to yearn for.
"Tomorrow's game," he says. "Glass panels. Left, left, right, left, right, right and left again."
You freeze, eyes darting all around the room, searching for cameras, mikes, anything.
"Y-you can't do that. The last people who helped a player got executed."
He laughs, as if the very thought was ridiculous, but he still ruffles your hair, amused like a pet owner laughing at a cute mistake their kitten just made.
"Good that I'm not like the others then, Angel, and you're too pretty to kill. Think of it as another debt, alright? I'll claim it once you win and..."
He leans towards you, menacing, until his breath tickles the skin of your throat as he whispers in your ear.
"It's not money you'll need to pay me back."
-------
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izuukii · 3 months ago
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—𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐩
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✩pairing: Touya Todoroki x Fem!Reader
✩genre: fluff, smut
✩word count: 3.8k
✩warnings: injury and blood (nothing gory), codependent relationship (but make it cute), fingering (fem receiving), praise kink, soft dabi w/ very consensual sex, unprotected sex,
✩authors note: aaaaa patched up. my very first fic. this version is reworked to suit my newer style but i still am v sentimental about it. i always debate changing the title but i always end up keeping it. this is a repost from my old blog
✩excerpt:
“It’s my favorite show.” You tell him quietly as you sit down on the couch next to him. He clears his throat when he sees you, shifting his eyes to the floor. It’s when you notice the pinpricks of blood on his chest, seeping lightly through the white t-shirt he has on. You gesture with a nod for him to take it off. He pulls the fabric off, pain contorting his face into a grimace. The staples holding the skin on his chest are slightly agape. Cuts and bruises all over his body making him look like a nebula of pain.
“What did you do?” You ask him, knowing that it’s pointless. Knowing he’ll spare you.
“Fell.” He tells you with finality.
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You weren’t sure exactly how Dabi found you, but you couldn’t find it in you to be mad that he did.
You stared at him, the question of what happened resting on the tip of your tongue before deciding that now is not the time.
The scarred man drinks in his surroundings, his long arm holding the opposite one as he tries to keep the staples clasping his skin together from separating. His cerulean eyes are moving everywhere, from the coffee table cluttered with magazines you don’t read, the dusty tv stand full of movies you’ve seen a million times, over to the kitchen where the sink is loaded with coffee cups and plates. You figure that it’s not you, per se, that’s making him look so on edge. He’s always been someone that has to look out for himself. His attitude is much like a cornered alley cat.
You walk over, moving the nest of soft blankets to the opposite side of the couch and motion for him to sit down.
“I’m going to get my first aid kit,” you say to him, walking to your bathroom. When you come out he’s staring at the bookshelf, running his thin and worn fingers down the bindings of your favorite books. “Dabi,” you call out to him, he turns to you, his eyes flashing in surprise. “Sit.” You ask, half demanding, the other half pleading.
He walks over quietly, body lazily plopping on the couch as his face contorts in thinly veiled pain. You lay towels behind him, an effort to keep blood off your couch. Your grandma gave it to you. It’s an effort to keep what little you have nice. You gently touch the arm holding his wound together, looking at him with a silent request to move it. He stares at you, lips turned in a slight frown that reeks of distrust but what else can he do?
“What happened….?” You ask in a whisper, disinfecting the wound.
“Wrong time, wrong place.” You look at him as he looks away. You know he’s lying. Keeping things from you. Keeping you safe from the harsh reality of who he is. You focus your thoughts on pulling his skin back together.
He seethes in pain every time your nimble fingers pull the skin taut, replacing the staples that were broken with new ones.
“Thank you.” He says when you’re done, looking around your apartment as if he expects someone or something to jump out at him.
“Can I ask you something?” You look at him, staring directly in his eyes as if that’ll actually force the truth out of him. He breaks eye contact first, but nods. “How did you find me?”
“I brought you home that night, remember?” He responds, his voice quiet. Then you remember the man with tired eyes and blue hair.
You remember the way he held onto your arm too tight, the way his eyes looked at you hungrily, and how his touch made your clothing disintegrate. You recall Dabi shouting at him. The way everything hurt after you were let go.
“You fell when he let you go. Hit your head on the concrete. I found your address in your phone, and took you home. Speaking of,” he looks at you, voice low and sultry. He looks almost inviting, as if he’s daring you to come closer. “You need to remember to lock your door, dollface. Anyone could come in here.”
You barely resist the urge to roll your eyes at him.
————————————
You don’t see Dabi again until days later when he’s knocking on your door, a familiar and scared look on his face. You gesture towards the couch where he sat last time, grabbing the first aid kit and towels yet again.
When you come back, you find him silently watching the sitcom you have on. His arms are close to his body. Protecting himself. He’s smirking along with the canned laughter of the audience. You like his smile, you think to yourself. You wonder for a moment how it looks when he’s full on beaming.
“It’s my favorite show.” You tell him quietly as you sit down on the couch next to him. He clears his throat when he sees you, shifting his eyes to the floor. It’s when you notice the pinpricks of blood on his chest, seeping lightly through the white t-shirt he has on. You gesture with a nod for him to take it off. He pulls the fabric off, pain contorting his face into a grimace. The staples holding the skin on his chest are slightly agape. Cuts and bruises all over his body making him look like a nebula of pain.
“What did you do?” You ask him, knowing that it’s pointless. Knowing he’ll spare you.
“Fell.” He tells you with finality.
He angles his body slightly towards you so you can patch him up. Doing everything in his power to avoid touching you. He hisses when a cotton ball touches his wounds. Biting the inside of his cheek as he hyper focuses on the tv. You notice he smells like campfire and cigarettes. You notice you find it comforting.
“You need to watch your step, this had to have been one hell of a fall.” Your tone is light, prodding. He doesn’t fall for it, just keeps his eyes plastered to the tv. You knew he wouldn’t. He’s not dumb. Especially not to your incessant nosiness.
You make quick work of his chest area, refastening staples and bandaging wounds. This time he doesn’t leave immediately after and you’re glad. You sit in a companionable silence. Small chuckles shared between you two as you both watch the show.
4 episodes later and he’s standing up to leave. You have to resist the urge to ask him to stay. You like his company. It’s effortless and soft. You wonder if he feels the same.
Before he leaves this time, he tells you to call him Touya.
——————————
He showed up again a week later, having you patch up scrapes on his face. These ones were easy. You suspect he just wanted to come over. You’re okay with that.
You can feel his breath on your hands as your nimble fingers work at the fleshy part of his cheek. His eyes strain with the effort of looking anywhere but you. When you’re done you lean back, your thumb holding his face as you admire your handiwork. You hear his breath hitch when you touch him. He’s not used to being touched. Not used to soft hands that care instead of hurt. Before you can work up the courage to stroke an inky lock of hair out of his face, the coffee pot beeps.
“Coffee, this late?” Touya asks incredulously, his eyes flickering to the clock showing that it’s 2am.
“Well,” you respond from the kitchen, keeping your back away from him. “You… you always show up late at night. So I’ve been brewing coffee to keep me awake in case you come by.” You add creamer to your mug, watching the way the liquids swirl together. “Do you want any?” You turn but he’s next to you instead of on the couch. You let out a little yelp of surprise, not expecting him to be so close.
He stares at you, brows furrowed and an unreadable expression in his eyes. You shrink under his gaze. Slowly -as if he doesn’t want to scare you- he lifts a hand and moves a strand of hair out of your face, twirling it between his fingers before he lets it go.
“Sure.” He says, voice slightly choked.
“Cream or sugar?” You ask, you tiptoe to reach a mug out of the cabinet, but he grabs it for you.
“Black.” His lips are turned up in the corners as he hands the mug to you.
You try to keep your hand steady as you hand the mug full of coffee to him, refusing to meet his eyes. He follows you back to the couch, and you resume the sitcom you’ve been watching together.
He’s sitting closer to you than he was before, and you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. You try to relax, playing with your fingers as you stare at the tv. You’re not taking in what’s going on. You’ve seen this episode many times.
Your ribs feel too small for your chest when Touya grabs your hand. You look over to him. His eyes are plastered to the tv, pretending nothings going on as he takes a sip from a chipped mug. You take his hand and flip it over, tracing the scars on his palm. His fingers twitch when you do.
He watches 2 episodes with your hand in his before he goes. This time he kisses your hair before he leaves.
————————————
You’re wondering if you should go to bed since it’s almost 5am. It’s been 2 days since Touya came by last. You feel disappointed. You’re trying to figure out why.
You stand up, and drop a forgotten cup of coffee at the sink. As you start to walk to your bedroom you hear a bang, followed by a grunt at your door. Touya collapses on you smelling like blood, smoke and sweat. His weight makes your knees buckle for a moment. Your curse under your breath and catch yourself.
“What happened?” You know it’s pointless to ask but you can’t help yourself. Always asking the same question. Always getting the same answer.
“Overused…...my quirk. Everything.... burns.” He mutters between breaths. You drag him to the bathroom -an impressive feat since he’s bigger than you are- and start running a cold bath for him. You set him on the toilet, and disinfect his burns. He hisses and clenches his teeth as you mutter apologies to him. You try to explain you have to do this. He nods, understanding. It’s painful for you too.
“I’ll be right back, stay here.” You assure him. He looks scared. Vulnerable. A version of Touya that you feel privileged to see. “I’ll be right back.” You say much quieter, gently cupping his cheek. He nods at you, his eyes swimming with hesitant acceptance.
You come back and dump a bucket of ice into the cold bath. Help him take off his burnt clothing. You ease him into the bath, noticing how the bath water tinges with red. You take a washcloth and soap, rubbing away the blood on his body. Wondering if he can rub away pain that’s under the surface. He hums softly while you do, a soft little song only you two will know.
You turn the detachable shower head on, and wash his hair. Scrubbing it gently, detangling his hair with your fingers as you work shampoo into his hair.
“I’m sorry it smells like flowers,” you whisper to him, not sure why you feel like you should apologize. “I don’t have anything else.”
“No,” he says simply. He sounds tired. “I like it..it smells like you.”
You clear your throat as heat crawls up your face. “My brother came to visit a few months ago and left some clothing behind. I’ll get them for you.” You stand up, and he gently grabs your wrist. He looks scared again. “I’ll be right back.” You gently reassure him. He should know you have no intention of leaving. Not if you can help it. You release the plug in the tub.
You come back with sweatpants and a t-shirt and set them on the toilet along with a fresh towel.
“I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” You inform him. As if there’s anywhere else you could be.
You’re sitting on the couch when he comes in. The same sitcom you’ve both been watching playing in the background. You attempt to look like you haven’t been waiting eagerly for him. He lays on the couch, head in your lap and arms tight around your middle. You run your fingers through his hair and he sighs.
“Stay.” You whisper, breath shaking. You don’t know why you’re asking. Why the request scares you. “Please.” He nods as he tightens his grip around you.
“Can we watch that show?” He looks at you, turquoise eyes bright. He looks excited, almost like a child. The sight makes your heart soar.
“Of course.” You giggle. You’ll always be willing to indulge him.
You both watch the show until the sun starts peeping through the blinds in your living room. The sun casting an annoying glare on your tv. You never stop stroking his hair the entire time. Every time you do, Touya grunts and rubs his head on your hand.
You stifle a yawn, trying to stay awake. You don’t want to fall asleep. You’re sure you’ll wake up to him gone.
“You’re tired.” He states, looking up at you. Not really a question. An observation.
“No I’m-” your sentence is cut off by a yawn. Touya grins. It’s bright like you imagined it would be. He sits up, hovering over your lap. His eyes linger on your face. Your breath hitches at how close he is to you. Your heart feels like a hummingbird in your chest. He looks into your eyes, silently asking for consent. You nod.
When he kisses you, he’s gentle. Like a butterfly's wings. He kisses you like you’re porcelain, like he’s scared to break you. When he pulls away, you have to stifle a whine; feeling desperate and needy for him.
“Go to bed, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers into your ear, thin fingers stroking your hair as he leans his head on your cheek. He feels reassuring. Kind. Like holding your favorite blanket after a nightmare.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
——————————-
The next morning when you wake up he’s not in your bed. You panic for a moment, before finding yourself angry. He said he’d stay. He didn’t. He broke his promise. You walk out into the living area, tears brimming your eyes. Touya’s in the kitchen. He looks like he’s been waiting for you all morning.
“You ok, doll?” He looks over at you. He’s doing the dishes. You look around and notice the living room is clean and there’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. “Cream and sugar right?” He smiles at you.
You can’t help it. The tears finally fall from your eyes. Touya notices immediately. Nothing really gets past him. He wraps you in his arms, and you feel warm.
“What’s wrong?” He whispers in your hair, concern leaking out of the edges of his voice.
“N-nothing,” you sob, your chest heaving as pathetic hiccups rack your body. “I-I was j-just s-scared I t-thought you left.”
“Dollface,” he tilts your head up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “A promise is a promise.” He places a chaste kiss on your forehead and playful tap on your nose. You can’t help but smile. He’s always made you feel warm.
You wipe your eyes, scolding yourself internally that you didn’t trust him to stay. He said he would. He’s never lied to you before. Why would he start now?
“Do you want breakfast?” You ask. He nods, and ruffles your hair.
The two of you spend the day watching the sitcom, peppering kisses on each other at least once an episode. It rained today, making the apartment windows fog up. It’s a gentle rain. The kind that forces someone to pull the other close. The kind that feels like healing; the kind that makes the day feel like Sunday. Touya feels like Sunday to you, being with him is lazy and effortless. Easy.
You both managed to get through an entire season today, only leaving the couch for bathroom breaks. When the season ends Toya gets up, and you look at him questioningly. He squats in front of you with a sigh.
“I have to go, but I promise I’ll be back.” He looks heartbroken. Like he doesn’t want to leave. You try to smile at him. To reassure him and let him know you’ll be fine, but for the second time today your eyes are filling with tears. He gives you a gentle kiss on the lips, and his hand cups your cheek.
“Promise?” Your voice cracks.
“Promise.”
“Do you know when you’ll be back?”
“I don’t know, doll.” He says simply. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok?”
“Okay.” You kiss him again, long and slow. Just like Sunday.
——————————————————
It’s 5 days before he comes back. When he opens the door you can’t help jumping on him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He still smells like your shampoo, you realize. The thought makes your heart feel like it’s too big for your chest.
“I missed you too, doll.” He laughs in your hair, his arms wrapped around you tightly. “Aren’t you tired? It’s 3am.”
“I was worried about you.” You sigh into his neck. You release yourself from him, backing up so he can kick his shoes off. You feel giddy. Especially now that you know he won’t run away if you show it.
“Hey,” he grins at you. “I told you I’ll come back, no matter what. I’ll always come back.” He sounds so sure. So firm. It makes you feel sure too.
“Let’s go to bed.” You grab his hand, dragging him to the bedroom.
You both change into sleep clothing silently. There’s never been a need to fill the silence with speaking. You’ve taken to wearing the shirt he came over in the night you bathed him, blood stains removed. It’s comforting. If you close your eyes, it was almost like he never left.
“Is that my shirt?” You hear a teasing lilt in his voice.
“It smells like you.” You respond simply, crawling into bed next to him.
You’re both on your sides, looking at each other. You feel his hand on your waist and he pulls you closer. He kisses you passionately, thumb drawing small circles at your waist. When his tongue slides across your bottom lip, you grant him access, letting him explore the inside of your mouth. Suddenly it’s fast and ruthless, no real method to it, it’s like he’s desperate to claim every part of you. All at once he pulls away, saliva connecting the two of you.
“I want you.” He whispers against your lips, then pulls away farther to look into your eyes. You look away from him, nervous. “Wait… (Y/N), are you a virgin?” You nod. He props himself up on an elbow, and tucks your hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I want to but just…go gentle.” He smiles at you, and you melt.
“At any moment you feel uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop.” He whispers, dropping his below and leveling his eyes with yours. It’s the most serious you’ve ever seen him look. You nod, and he leans in, resuming his kiss.
He moves his lips down to your neck and chest, leaving soft purple galaxies on your body and rewarding your moans and whines with more in the areas you like. You silently wish his marks could be permanent. His hand slides up your t-shirt, grasping at the soft plush of your breasts. His fingers tease your nipples, gentle teases and tugs at them.
You feel his hand slide down to your cunt, moving the slick gathering in your panties. You gasp quietly and he stops, looking at you again for consent. You nod and he pulls your underwear off. He finds your clit immediately, rubbing small circles around it. He’s tender when he sticks his fingers in you, stretching you out before adding the other. Effortlessly finding just the right spot that makes you writhe in pleasure and grasp at the bedsheets. “Good girl.” He mutters with a breathless moan. The praise makes your pussy flutter around his fingers. He quirks an eyebrow at you, looking teasing. “Oooh? You like that, baby? Like being called a good girl?” You nod, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth and unable to speak.
You’re panting soon enough, heat coiling in your stomach as you buck your hips with his fingers as your climax washes over you. He rides it out slowly, whispering praises in your ear and milking every twitch and moan out of you. Never stopping until your body stops twitching. You feel boneless after, warm and blissed. He gently pushes you onto your back, gently shoving his fingers coated with essence in your mouth. You clean them off, wrapping your tongue around his digits as he sighs. “Good fucking girl.” he says again to you.
“Still ok?” He asks quietly, searching your face for any discomfort.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to keep going?”
You bite your lip and nod at him. He pulls his sweatpants down as you pull his shirt off of you. His cock is long, thin with veins running down the sides and a pretty pink tip that’s already leaking pre. He looks at you once again, making sure you really want this. Making sure you really want him. You grab his shoulder and pull him back onto you, wordlessly pulling him into another kiss. He groans as you tangle your hand in his hair, and you sigh at the noises he makes.
“Let me know if it hurts.” He pulls away long enough to tell you, his lips an inch above yours. You nod as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He lines his cock up with your entrance, being as gentle as he can as he bottoms out inside of you with a hiss. It doesn’t hurt, just makes you feel full. You moan in pleasure when he starts thrusting, bucking your hips into his with tiny and desperate cries. He sets a gentle pace, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he fucks into you.
“Fuck..” he whispers into your ear. “Feel so good, so soft. Such a good girl, taking me so well.” You moan at his words, loving the way he feels inside you. The way his cock gently kisses your cervix and brushes over that spongy spot inside of you that sends you over the edge again.
“Shit.” He breathes out, thrusts getting more erratic as you climax pushes him to his own. “I’m gonna cum....fuck.” You angle your hips upward, wanting and craving more and more of him. He cums, whimpering sighs escaping his lips. He plops on top of you, sighing when he does.
“You ok?” He smiles, looking up at you. Always checking to make sure you’re okay.
“Yes, Touya.” You grin back at him, your fingers finding a home in his hair and stroking his locks.
“Doll?” He sounds scared for a moment, his voice thick with worry.
“Yes?”
“I love you.” He tells you, sounding small. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his hair.
“I love you too…” you’re silent for a minute, staring at the shapes in your ceiling. “Will you be here in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
2K notes · View notes
jinkicake · 2 months ago
Text
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 
SMUTTYYY // NSFW!!
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.”
Dabi 
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.
Hawks 
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. 
~
Taglist.
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3K notes · View notes
veenxys · 9 months ago
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「𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬.」
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⤷ Bakugou
He wake up earlier than you
He would just look at you for a few seconds and smile at you remembering last night.
He caress your face, your hair and just look at you in love.
But when you woke up and after he made sure you liked it too and that you were okay, he would act like an arrogant (as always)
"I know I'm great," he says, smiling sarcastically at you as he puts on his shirt.  ‘’Only I can make you feel that way, right?’’ He comes to you holding your face and kissing you. '' I can't wait for tonight. '' He winks at you and leaves your room.
⤷ Deku
He wakes up with you stroking his hair
It takes him a while to realize where he is and what happened
And when he remembers, he blushes
His heart is racing so fast and he starts to stutter.
"D-did you like it?" You nod and smile at him, he sighs and kisses you. "You're perfect, Y / n." he smiles. Deku can't stop thinking about last night, and the thought makes him blush and smile like a fool.
⤷ Kirishima
You feel a strong arm holding your waist
Kirishima looked at you with love in the look
You smiled at him and he felt his heart melt at that moment
''How can you be so beautiful?'' He said kissing you. ''Tell me you'' You said to him, he smiles as he caresses your face. ''Did you like last night?'' You just nodded and smiled at him, and that made him happier than ever. There was not a single part of your face that Kirishima did not kiss while saying how much he loves you.
⤷ Todoroki
You woke up with Todoroki's hand stroking your face
As soon as you open your eyes, Todoroki smiles at you and kisses your forehead.
He hugs you and stays like that for a few seconds, smelling your hair.
''Did you sleep well?" He asks in a voice hoarse with sleep, making you shiver. You mumble against his warm skin. ‘'Do you like it?'' You smile and whisper ‘’I love it.’’ He smiles and continues to stroke your hair. He’s so happy inside, he just want to scream to the world how much he loves you.
⤷ Denki 
You woke up with your head on Denki's chest while his hand stroked your hair
You hugged him even more
And he smiled as he hugged you back
"Morning baby," he murmured against your hair. He calmly run his hand down your spine while leaving small kisses on your head. You felt so comfortable and safe with Denki that you could sleep again if he wasn't squeezing your ass. And you prayed for the gods to help you to walk after this morning.
⤷ Tamaki
You woke up with Tamaki clinging to you like a sloth
You smiled to yourself and kissed his forehead
He just held you tighter, pretending to be asleep
But he couldn't hold back his smile when you started kissing his whole face
"Good morning, baby!’’ you said to him. He smiled even more (if that was possible). He hugged you, stroking your back. 
''Did you sleep well? How are you? '' He murmured against your hair. He was so happy and calm with you in his arms, he loves you so much.
⤷ Shinsou
You woke up with an empty bed, you were a little sad about it because you wanted to spend the whole morning just hugging your boyfriend.
You picked up your phone and saw a message from Shinsou
"Hey bae, I went to buy our breakfast, if you need anything call me, ily"
You smiled to yourself and after a few minutes Shinsou arrived with a bag in his hands.
''Morning my angel, did you sleep well?’’ He came to you and kisses your forehead. He smiled when he saw your body naked. He put the bag on the chair next to your bed and lay down beside you. ''You are beautiful'' He says as he takes your face in his hands and kisses you.
⤷ Hawks
Hawks was lying on top of you, his face on your breasts
He slept so peacefully that you didn't want to wake him
You just stroked his hair slowly
But when you took your hand out of his hair to get your phone, he grunted and took your hand back.
''Morning, baby bird.'' He said smiling at you when he kissed your forehead and then put his head on your neck, smelling your perfume. You kissed the top of his head and hugged him for a few seconds before trying to get up. ''Kei, I have to go''
''No'' He murmured against your skin and squeezed you tighter. ''Please baby-'' 
'’You’re mine''
 ''Yes i know but-'' 
''M I N E'' 
''Ok I give up'' and you could feel him smiling against your neck.
⤷ Dabi
Dabi had his chin on your head and your face was buried in his neck.
You smiled against his skin, feeling completely safe in his arms
You gave a soft kiss on his neck.
He looked at you and smiled before kissing your forehead. ''Morning, love'' only his voice in the morning made your legs shake, and that son of a bitch knew that. He smirked when you closed your eyes, when you opened them again, Dabi was on top of you. "Ready for the second round, babe?"
⤷ Shigaraki 
You woke up with Shigaraki's face buried in your breasts and his arms holding you tight
You just smiled to yourself when you started stroking his hair
He was so peaceful and secure. 
You could spend the rest of the day like that.
He murmured something against your breast, he just squeezed you even more. ''Shiggy'' you whispered with the intention of waking him up, you couldn’t breathe with the strength that Shigaraki held you. You just accepted defeat, because you would literally spend the whole day like that.
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killsaki · 8 days ago
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LEATHER CUSHIONS
touya hates the couch in the living room, but for you, he’d sit on it every second of the day.
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touya todoroki x f!reader
cw/tw: quirkless au, college au, roommates/bestfriends to lovers, shitty frat/rich boy!keigo, reader tells keigo no & he ignores it, soft, sweet, consensual sex w touya.
6709 words. | minors dni.
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“don’t be a fucking idiot.” you hear your best friend yell over his shoulder from his seat on the couch that doesn’t belong to you nor him but somehow made its way into the apartment that the two of you share.
“i don’t think that’s something you can call someone who has a higher iq than you do.” you laugh back, expecting his usual disgusted face that you usually get when you poke at him. instead you’re met with a death glare from over his arm that slung over the back of the couch, something you physically react to, which earns a scoff from him as he turns back to the tv.
“if you’re so smart, you’d know he’s just going to try and fuck you.”
you know touya’s just trying to look out for you, in his own stupid way. and you also know that keigo doesn’t have the best reputation when it came to relationships. not that most girls minded, because that one night with him was seemingly enough for most of them, that is until he stopped replying to their messages the next day.
but you also know that touya is no better than keigo is. so even if all the things keigo has filled your head with in the past two weeks is bullshit, all the sweet texts and late night phone calls, at least you’ll be trying something new. instead of sitting in your room listening to your roommate fuck some random’s throat on that same couch.
“don’t call me to pick you up when he starts being a fucking creep,” he stretches his tattoo’d arms, not bothering to look back at you. “i’m having bitch over, so i’ll be busy.”
“because it’s so hard for you to get up from a blowjob?” you say nonchalantly, slipping your jacket off the hook and onto your body.
“exactly.” he glances up at you again when you reach for the door, only making eye contact for a second, that permanently bored look etched on his face as his eyes drag down your body, more than likely judging your outfit choice, before he snaps his head back to his phone. “now fuck off, she’ll be here soon.”
you can only sigh before securing your shoes on your feet and leaving out the door, being met with the bright smile and even brighter red car that both belong to keigo takami. you watch as he pushes himself off his car, phone shoved into his pocket, freeing both of his hands to rest at your waist.
“you look..” he starts, eyes dragging down between the two of you before meeting yours again, that pretty grin never once leaving his face. “god, do i feel underdressed.”
“stop it.” you shake your head, resting your hands against his chest that’s adorned with a tight black t-shirt, fingers playing with the gold chain that rests on top of it. “i think you look great how you are.”
“oh, you think?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“i think.” you confirm, letting go of the pendant and tapping his chest. “you ready to go?”
“i thought we could just stand here for the rest of the night.”
playfully, you swat at his chest, laughing when he lets out the fakest of groans, clutching his chest dramatically. once he finally ‘recovers’, he opens the passenger door of his car for you, letting you settle inside before closing it behind you and jogging over to the driver's side.
the rest of the night seems to go just as good. with him as chivalrous, just as sweet; he lets you play whatever you want on the aux, even nodding along with it, though there’s no way in hell he’s ever actually heard half of the songs that you play. he’d opened all your doors for you, pulled out your chair at the restaurant, and of course paid for your food despite the way you insisted you could pay for it on your own.
“everything tonight is my treat,” he smiled for the umpteenth time, something that you’ve found to be progressively harder to deny; something so sweet that it distracts you from the possible venom behind the next words that fall from his mouth. “you can always pay me back another time.”
it’s fine after that even, or it seems to be. after dinner, he insists on ice cream. the desert menu at the restaurant was just a bit too pricey for either of your liking, so the local mom and pop’s shop would suffice, if not exceed the fifteen dollar small plate of chocolate cake that you could’ve had.
“it feels so good out tonight.” you hear him say, one arm resting around your frame. “we should drive around and eat.”
the breeze does have plenty of warmth to it, so much that you actually ditched your jacket. you agree without much thought, smiling and leaning into his sturdy frame. as the line moves up. he starts chatting you up about one of the bands you played on the ride over, going on about how every other song seemed to be by them. the two of you talk music until you’re back in his car, then you’re having to struggle to eat because he just won't stop making you laugh.
you’re so caught up in the charm that you don't even notice whenever he pulls into the empty parking lot and rolls the windows down before he kills the engine.
“you’re so easy to talk to.” he rests his head back on the seat, before rolling it over to look at you. “thanks for hanging out with me.”
you can feel warmth creep on your cheeks as you play in the last bits of your now melted ice cream.
“why wouldn’t i?”
he laughs, raising an eyebrow. “i don't really see you hanging out with anyone.” he shrugs, glancing down to the cold cup that’s still nearly full in his hand.
“well, i’ll have you know,” you furrow your eyebrows playfully. “i hang out with my roommate whenever we’re in the living room at the same time, and that’s at least twice a week.”
you can feel yourself soften into the seat at the sound of his soft laugh, warmth blooming in your chest when his deep dimples show in the dim light from the parking lot.
he stares at you for just a moment, golden eyes glancing down to your lips back up to meet yours again. he leans in without another word, meeting your lips with his own and you can taste the vanilla ice cream on his tongue before he even slides it into your mouth.
his free hand comes up to cup your nape, fingers digging into your skin to pull you deeper into the kiss,
“d’you wanna get in the back seat?” he nods behind him as if you needed to know where it was.
“actually, keigo.. i don’t want-”
“fuck!” he jumps back, pulling at the crotch of his pants to keep the now spilled cold and runny ice cream from touching his skin.
“holy shit how did you-”
“is- i gotta- fuck, it’s gonna stain.”
you can’t help but laugh at the whine in his voice at the idea of his precious khaki pants staining with white, his head snaps over to you struggling to hide the sound.
“you think this is funny?” his eyes widen, as he looks back down to the mess in his lap. “i gotta go change.”
he starts the car again, one hand still holding the material off his skin the best he can manage as he maneuvers his way back to the big blue house with unreadable greek letters on the front. you find that it’s quiet, light chatting coming from the living room, and some gun fire playing off the tv, but not much other than that.
“you can come and wait in my room if you’d like, i’m just gonna shower.” he motions his free hand up the stairs, smiling when you start padding behind him.
another thing that catches you off guard is how clean his room is. not that he comes off as a dirty kind of guy, and it’s not like any of the rumours about him ever included his decor choices, but it was just so neat. no clutter, no cups, not even a sock hanging out of his laundry basket.
letting yourself fall onto his perfectly made bed, and almost instantly regretting it when the comforter wrinkles underneath you, you finally check your phone, finding messages from your roommate you must've missed the vibrations from over twenty minutes ago.
stinky bastard: | hows it going? |
stinky bastard: | not that i give a shit |
you nearly snort at the time stamps, how they were sent within the same minute and all you can think about is how fast he tried to recover from showing that he does in fact give a shit.
sent: | thought you were busy? |
after you press send, you lock your phone. it had been nearly half an hour ago since he sent that, so if he wasn’t then, he most likely is now. you’re most likely not going to get another reply for another thirty min- ding.
stinky bastard: | dont avoid my fuckin question |
stinky bastard: | but i’m getting my dick sucked as we speak |
sent: | make sure you clean the couch this time when you’re done |
stinky bastard: | spit that has been on my balls is an upgrade for this couch |
you audibly laugh at that, remembering all the times he’d be in his boxers, and you’d catch him walking from the bathroom with a wet rag about to wipe up the mess left on the couch seat, mumbling about how he should just ‘throw the fuckin’ thing out.’ as if the two of you could afford a new one.
sent: | what do you have against the poor couch? |
stinky bastard: | a lot, actually. |
you hover your thumbs over the keyboard, shaking your head at your roommate and his imaginary beef with the inanimate object before the sound of the shower turning off catches your attention, but another buzz brings you back to your phone.
stinky bastard: | he being a creep yet? |
sent: | touya, no |
you stand, though you’re not really sure why. tapping the corners of your phone, you walk mindlessly over to the dresser, glancing up at your reflection before turning to lean against it.
stinky bastard: | she’s not too good so i could come get you if you needed |
sent: | i’m fine, touya |
“sorry,“ you hear keigo apologize as he enters the room. “i forgot to grab some clothes.”
you look up to see him draped only in a white towel, one that’s tied loosely around his waist, looking like it’s going to fall any second as he closes the door behind him. heat creeps it’s way back up into your cheeks and you’re sure you look insane with how wide your eyes have gotten.
“don’t worry, i’ll go get dressed in the bathroom.” he laughs, no doubt trying to put your crazy expression at ease.
“right, yeah.” you mumbled, nodding, trying to look anywhere but at his toned chest, or at the way the water was still dripping from his hair down to the dips of his sculpted stomach, or even at the line of dirty blonde hair that leads below the towel to only god- and twenty something girls on campus- know what.
you feel him before you realize that he’s actually there. standing in front of you smirking as he looks down at you, and you can feel the heat off of his body, for a second you just stand there wondering if he’s always that warm or if the warmth of the shower is still sticking to him.
“you know,” his hands find themselves on your waist once again, his head tilted down as he leans his lips to brush against yours. “if you didn’t want me to put any clothes on, you could’ve said that.”
you gasp when you realise where you’ve come to stand and that you’re quite literally blocking the man from putting anything on.
“i’m sorry, i-”
he shushes you, nudging you to look up at him with his nose.
“it’s okay,” his voice is soft, then same as his lips as they press against yours once again. slowly, you ease into it, just like you did before. but the weight of his hands feel heavy, like sandpaper against your skin as they dip under your clothes and drag against your skin
his mouth makes it’s way from your own down to your chin, where he leaves open kisses against your neck. “i’d just end up taking them back off anyways.”
you feel him part your legs with his knee, hands gripping into your softness to pull you closer to him, to control your movements as he tries to get you to grind down against him.
“keigo, i don’t-” a sound escapes you at the worst possible moment when he starts to suck on the sensitive spot at the base of your neck. and the sound of his voice, soft and condensing in your ear makes you want the floor to swallow you whole.
“sounds like you do to me.”
you push at his chest to no avail, his sturdy body locking you into his own.
“keigo-” you groan as the uncomfortable feeling of him sucking your skin between his teeth. “please,” you plead, though you’re not even sure he’s listening. “stop.”
“i’m sorry,” he pulls back finally, leaning his forehead against your own, one of his hands coming to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “you’re just so pretty.”
“thank you, keigo, i’m just-” you can feel the shake in your voice as you speak and your face grows hotter when you know he can hear it.
“what’s wrong, dove?”
you’re sure if the situation wasn’t what it was, that pet name would make your heart soar.
“i’m not comfortable.” you admit, hoping he would drop all of it so that you could go back to the light hearted conversations that started the night.
“right.” he nods, pulling back slowly. “the bed’s probably better anyways.” that smile plasters itself back on his face and you feel your heart sink into your stomach when he tugs you by your wrist with him.
you thank whatever deity is out there watching over you when a crash downstairs stops him in his tracks. though the feeling of relief is quickly washed away with the grip he still holds on you and look on his face as snaps his head over to the door with naked anger, the cracks of his nice guy facade stripping down.
“you can’t fucking go up there!”
a slam follows the shout, and another after that.
“watch me.”
there’s heavy steps up the stairs, sounds that echo through the otherwise quiet house. just as keigo begins to let go of you, to approach the door to his room, it swings open and your roommate stands at the entryway staring back at you.
“can i help you?” keigo chimes in, stepping in front of you, trying to break eye contact between you two.
“nah, piss stain, you can’t.” touya quickly retorts, not sparing him a look, still eyeing you over the shorter man’s shoulder.
“what are you doing here?” you blink, words barely above a whisper but you know they both hear you.
“you didn’t text me back.” he shrugs.
“we’re busy.” keigo makes it a point to adjust his towel slightly before looking back over his shoulder with a smirk. “isn’t that right?”
you can’t miss how touya’s lip ring twitches, a habit he’s picked up when he’s trying to bite his tongue.
“no,” you let out meekly, bumping shoulders with the blonde as you walked past him, hoping touya’s presence would spare you from another bruising grab at your wrist, and lucky you, it does. “we weren’t.”
you miss the deathly glare they give one another, but you do turn around in time to catch a glimpse of keigo’s back tattoo as he throws his phone into the mattress. you think about how all the other girls described the wings to be so beautiful, how his muscles flexing only added to the serene scene, and now you start to wonder if any other part of their stories were just as fabricated.
“thank you.” you sigh as you lean your head against his back, hands wrapped firmly around his waist as he moves to start the bike’s engine.
“i wasn’t doing anything anyways.” you feel him shrug before he hits the kickstand with this boot and heads out onto the street.
there’s something comforting about being this close to touya, despite how just minutes ago you felt like you needed to scrub your body clean and you never wanted to be less than two feet away from anyone ever again. the way touya relaxes under you, how he breathes calmly despite being on a two wheel death machine, the smell of his three in one clinging to his skin, it makes you want to fall asleep right there. and you almost do, if not for the, again, two wheeled death machine.
he doesn’t say anything when the two of you make it back to the apartment, or whenever you get out of the shower, he leaves your favorite snacks on the counter without even asking if you wanted them. and when you come into the living room, you find him in his spot on the corner of the couch with the fuzzy blanket of his that you always threaten to steal right next to him.
you sit down, taking the blanket and wrapping yourself in it. two of you sit in silence for a while, save the sound of you digging into the plastic that holds your snacks and the show that play quietly on the tv. but there’s not much that you can really find the energy to say. slowly, you start to lean into his warmth, thankfully humming whenever he drops his arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest.
“i’ll kick his teeth in if you want me to.” he whispers against the crown of your head.
you breathe a laugh out, shaking your head.
“or i could get some money off my old man and pay someone else to do it.” he rubs your arm slowly, his warm hands, as callous as they are, feel like silk as they brush against you. “since you care too much about me getting into trouble.”
you let out a small giggle out that time, a weak smile creeping up on your face.
“and why would you think that?”
you know your voice sounds broken, that all the crying you did in the shower took its toll and that it would be obvious now, but with touya, you can’t find a reason to care.
“because i know you.” he leans his cheek against your head, pulling you a little closer to his side. “you care too much about everything.”
you sigh, relaxing further into his hold.
“you think that’s why i wanted to go with him?” you ask, not really expecting an answer. “‘cause if everything he said was true, if he really meant all the sweet things he said to me-”
“you thought it would hurt his feelings.” you feel touya’s head shake slowly. “guys like that don’t even have feelings.”
“you don’t have feelings either though.” you joke, looking up at him whenever you feel his weight lift off of you.
you’re met with those bright blue eyes looking back into yours.
“and what makes you think that?”
your breath catches in your throat when you realise how close the two of you are, how much different it all is with him compared to the piece of shit you’d been with earlier.
“all the girls you have over..” you start but the sight of him twitching his lip ring catches your train of thought and you can’t find any words to finish the sentence.
“they come willingly.” he states, brows furrowing like he’s thinking over his words. “but i guess i don’t feel anything with them,” he rolls his head back towards the tv, lip rings swinging back and forth before he speaks again. “not unless i picture them as you.”
your mind swims with too many thoughts to even begin to process what he could mean by that.
“i’m not some kind of fucking creep, and i wouldn’t try anything after the shit you’ve been through tonight, i just,” he throws his head back on the couch staring up at he ceiling as he sighs. “i don’t know why the fuck i opened my mouth.”
“touya,” you squeeze your eyes closed, letting out a deep breath before you move, pushing yourself up to straddle his lap. he doesn’t move an inch, not even to pick his head up to look at you when you settle there. and he probably would just stay like that if you didn’t physically pick up his head and force him to look at you. “what the fuck are you saying?”
he just blinks at you for a moment, those pretty eyes searching for something in yours. you can feel his pulse under your fingertips, his soft, warm skin thumping slightly under your touch.
“i don’t have feelings,” he sighs, leaning his cheek into your palm, eyes still focused on you. “not until it comes to you.”
you open your mouth to speak, but the words leak out of your brain before you can form any kind of sentence with them.
“i can’t say sweet shit to make you like me, or take you to nice ass resturants with those fancy fucking forks,” you start to panic when your heart beats against your chest, afraid that he’ll be able to feel it aswell. “but i sit on this stupid ass couch all fucking day, waiting for you to come in here and talk to me because you’re the only person who makes me feel anything.”
“touya..”
“and i let you go on that date with that fucker knowing damn well how fucking sick he is-”
“touya.” you interrupt, thumbs running over the highs of his cheeks.
he closes his mouth, blinking at you, waiting for whatever else you wanted to say, though he’d be fine if you just said his name again and again until time ended.
“kiss me.”
and he listens, slowly he leans down, giving you every chance to push him away, to tell him nevermind, that you didn’t actually want him to. but it never comes, instead you lean forward, still cradling his face in your hands as your lips mesh with his. it’s soft, slow, each move of your lips against his feels so full of purpose, so full of feeling.
cautiously, like you’re a wild bunny going to jump from his lap at any second, he rests his hands at your sides, just feeling your body above him. only resting the weight of them fully when you start humming happily into his mouth at the contact.
his hands feel warm and light against your skin, setting your ablaze under every inch that they trail over. you melt into him, you go to move your hands from his face, to find perch in his hair or on his shoulders to pull yourself closer to him, but they don’t get far off his cheeks before he’s capturing your wrists and keeping them there.
“don’t,” he warns when you pull back to speak. “just don’t.”
you laugh, leaning back in only to be stopped.
“not here,” he shakes his head, still keeping your hands attached to his face. “not on this stupid fucking couch.”
you lean your head back in laughter, something that brings a small smile onto touya’s face, something only you can do. a moment later, he’s dragging you to the door of his room and leading you in. the hold he has on you is loose, giving you every chance to pull away but you continue to follow him.
he walks over to change the color of his led lights, letting you linger behind him and take in the sight of his room. it’s a little messy, with things thrown here and there, but not too bad where you can’t walk or see his floor. surprisingly enough it smells good, like pine and a campfire.
“stop looking at my mess.” he mumbles coming back to you, pulling your hands back up to his face.
“but, i like your mess.” you say back, watching as his white teeth peek from behind his lips, reflecting the dark blue light in a way that makes your heart skip a few beats.
“you’re crazy, you know that?” he shakes his head, ducking down to pull you into another kiss, the two of you stumbling blindly until the back of your legs meet his bed and you fall out of his hold and on your back.
“then what does that make you?” you breath as you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he picks up your thighs and shoves you farther on his bed.
“if you’re crazy, i’m in-fucking-sane.”
he peels his shirt off by the bottom hem, exposing his tattooed stomach that you can’t remember if you’ve ever paid attention to before. his hands fall just above your shoulders as he leans down over you, nudging you chin with his nose in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. the feeling of his lips dragging up the column of your neck making heat start to pool in your stomach. you whine out something adjacent to his name as he starts to pepper kisses along your collarbone, and you can feel the comforter underneath you tighten with his fist.
a shaky breath is let out against your skin before he pulls himself back up to look into your eyes, resting his against yours and you can’t help but press your lips against his again despite that he definitely was about to say something. when you pull back, his eyes are closed and he’s nearly panting against your lips.
“you sure about this?” his eyes flutter open to look for your response, one that comes in a nod.
“say it for me.” he whispers, so softly that you’re sure if your bodies weren’t pressed together you wouldn’t have been able to hear it.
“i want you, touya.”
and his lips are on yours again, soft and sweet in a way that is anything but touya, but just like him all the same. the kiss is passionate, deep enough to pull sounds from your throat and make you completely dizzy. so much so that you wouldn’t even have noticed when he has started to pull your shirt off if he didn’t ask for permission before he did it, same with your shorts, and every other piece of clothing that you had left.
with each one he strips off of you, he presses kisses to the spot that the fabric had left bare for him, first your stomach, then the top of your thigh, followed by your sternum, then your hips. each press of his lips against your sensitive skin leaves you more eager, fills your stomach with want, and no doubt is leaving you with a mess of arousal between your thighs, waiting for him to finally touch you where you wanted him most.
you groan at the thought of his fingers, the silver that is somehow cold against his burning skin as they graze down your sides, and squeeze at the soft of your thighs. and gasp at the feeling of his lips, soft and also adored with cool metal as he kisses from your navel up to your throat.
“what is it?” he mumbles into your skin. “hm, baby?” his lips find their way to your ear, words hot against the shell of it.
“i wanna feel you, touya.” you whisper, hands reaching around his shoulder to hold him against you.
“but i’m all over you, doll.” he tsk’s back, obviously wanting you to be more clear with what you’re asking for.
“i want to feel you inside of me, touya.” you can feel your cheeks heat with the blunt words but you can’t find a reason to care, not if it’ll lead you to finally seeing how far his fingers can reach.
“oh, is that all?” he lets out a shaky laugh, fake confidence starting to crack as he shifts his weight onto one of his forearms, looking between your face and his hand that traces down the curves of your body until it meets with the apex of your thighs.
“you just tell me when to stop.” he whispers before kissing you, leaving himself hovering just above your lips.
his middle finger comes to slide along your slit, up to meet your clit with a few experimental circles around it. it draws a gasp from your lips, the feeling of the tip of it prodding at your entrance enough to force another out of you.
“did you hear me?” he asks, voice still soft.
you nod in response, not trusting your voice when you’re so doped out on the promise of ecstasy. but, clearly that wasn’t the right answer, you notice as he pulls his hand from your heat to rub at your thigh.
“i heard you, touya.” you whine out. “i’ll tell you when i want you to stop, i swear, please just fucking touch me.”
and again, he listening to your plead, fingers instantly finding their way back to your cunt. the tip of his middle finger starting to prod against your entrance, his lips making their way to your jaw as he starts to press in, his ear as close to your mouth as he could get it without being completely obvious.
pretty little gasps tumble from your lips as he starts a rhythm with it, pushing it all the way into the knuckle, letting you feel the cool metal against your cunt before he pulls back out, turning his wrist as he does so. you have his finger completely soaked by the second time he does this, which only motivates him to give you-
“more.” you whimper desperately.
he adds another, turning his wrist so he can press his fingertips up against that soft wall that has you letting out even sweeter, louder sounds. each flick of his hand has you seeing stars, the knot of pleasure in your stomach starting to fray away already, and each sound you tumble out, each pulse of your walls around his digits, has him grinding harder into the mattress below you.
“wait, wait, wait-” you say with no real urgency, cursing yourself of shaving off your high.
he retreats from your body immediately, leaning up on his knees so that he wasn’t touching you at all.
“you okay? did i hurt you?” he puts his hands up, making it easy for you to grab them and pull him back on top of you before he tries to slip off the bed completely.
you shake your head to answer his question as he eases himself back over you.
“i said i wanted to feel you, touya.”
you can see even in the dim blue light how his eyes widen the slightest bit, the way his mouth parts and you can feel the way his hands twitch again into the blanket by your head.
“yeah?” his voice is shaky, breathier than before. “is that really what you want?”
“mhm,” you hum back, feeling secure with him, knowing that with touya, this was safe, you were safe. “i want you, touya.”
“fuck,” he pulls himself from you, reaching over and digging through his nightsand drawer for god knows what before returning back to you with a shiny package that he bites and tears with his teeth. “you just tell me-”
“when to stop;” you finish for him. “i know, i will.”
he smirks down at you as he tugs the top of his boxers down, not missing the way your eyes dart down to catch sight of the size of him. and god does he revel in the way you lick your lips at the way his cock slaps up against his stomach. your eyes flutter between his face and the way he slowly unrolls the condom down the length of him.
“can i?” you ask, not expecting to hear the groan that’s only muffled by the way he bites his lip.
after he nods, hand retreating from his cock, letting it slap back up against his belly button, you lean up on your forearm, reaching to wrap around it and work the condom down just the tiniest bit faster. you can’t help but try to savour the sweet seconds that his hips jump forward towards your fist, or the way the curve of it feels against your palm. you regret not dragging it out longer because the second it seems to be completely unrolled, he’s pushing your shoulder back into the bed.
“such a tease.” you hum against his lips, one arm coming to rub his shoulders, the other cradling the back of his head. you mimic the feeling of his smile against your mouth, but it only lasts for a moment. the feeling of him rubbing the tip of his cock along your slit enough to make your face drop with pleasure. he takes his time, circling your clit with it before sliding it down to your entrance to push in the smallest bit before pulling his hips back again and repeating the motion all over.
“‘nd i’m the te-” you try to huff, only to be cut off by touya finally pushing past the head into your warmth. even with just a few shallow strokes, you can feel him pressing up against your most sensitive spots.
“were you saying somethin’?” he laughs above you, watching your face in awe as your eyes roll back with each cant forward of his hips. “c’mon,” you hear his voice become breathy once again. “let me hear you.”
and without a second thought, you let your lips part, each sound falling from your throat without a care. you mind too focus on the way his cock stretches you, how the tip of him presses so perfectly against your g-spot, how full he makes you feel and he hasn’t even fully bottomed out.
“‘so good” you whimper out as he drags his hips back once again, the slow, sensual pace making it even harder to work your brain.
he drops down closer to you, lips against your own like he wanted to taste every moan you made.
“‘s good, baby?” he asks softly, hips stuttering for a second but never once losing their gentle pace.
“mhm,” you attempt to hum, a moan making you drag out the ‘m’ longer than you intended. “feel so good, touya.”
his head drops to your shoulder where he leaves open mouth kisses that only make the feeling in your stomach ten times hotter. it makes you roll your hips up into his desperately, trying to get some friction against your clit, wanting just to get over the edge.
“slow down,” he warns, grabbing your hip with one of his big palms. “if you- fuck-” his hips fall flush with your own when your walls start to grip around him, which makes both of you let out ugly noises simountaliously. “tell me what you need.”
“my clit, i just-” you pant, trying again to roll your hips without any luck. “please, please, i need it.”
not a second later is his hand off your waist and his thumb is stuck to your clit, rubbing perfect circles against it that send warmth spilling out of your cheeks and sending it all down to your cunt. he starts his hips again, the extra stimulation almost sending you over already if your throbbing walls and shaking thighs were anything to go by.
“gonna cum with me?” he asks, knowing your far too gone to answer. “we’re almost there, baby.”
his pace becomes sloppier, faster, but never rougher, the sound of his balls sticking against your ass with each deep thrust he gives mixes with the desperate, pathetically needy sounds fill the room as you both start to feel the static spread through your veins, white and blue heat shooting into your vision and making your body spasm together.
it takes both of you a minute to move, to do anything other than hold one another and try to calm your breathing. but once you both finally come down, touya is pulling himself from you with a groan, face full of disgust as he pulls off the condom and ties it. squeezing it just the slightest bit in front of you so that you both could be sure there were no complications with the rubber. you throw your arm over your eyes as touya walks out to the room and flicks on the light to what has to be the bathroom. you don’t even move when he returns, just letting him take the warm wash cloth and clean you up before he retreats out of the room once again.
“aht aht.” he shakes your leg when he returns, sweats hanging low on his hips. “like hell we’re sleeping in here.”
you would laugh at him were it not for how sleepy you actually were.
“but ‘m tired.” you mumble, rolling over into his pillow.
“it smells like balls in here. lets go to your room.” he offers, gently pulling you up off his mattress.
“so your room can’t smell like balls, but the living room can?” you roll your head against him, letting him hold the majority of your weight as he leads you to your room.
“exactly.”
“gross.” you retort as he sits you on the edge of your bed. “hey, touya.”
“hey, baby.” he responds back, pulling someone’s shirt over your head.
“why did you bring all those girls over here if you liked me?”
the shirt smells like him, you decide.
“because i’m an idiot.”
you nod, not paying any mind to the way he scoffs at the action.
“and why did you always do stuff with them on the couch?”
“because that’s where i always see you,” his hands come to lay on your shoulders as he pulls you back off the mattress. “it was easiest to picture you when we were out there.”
he pulls down your comforter and helps you ease back into the bed, handling you like glass the entire time.
“i guess that makes sense.” you sigh into the pillow, eyes still closed as he lets himself into your bed.
“it doesn’t.”
you don’t waste a second before laying on his chest, not that he doesn’t welcome you by wrapping his arms around you immediately.
“oh and touya,” you start again, making his heart race. thinking it'd be another question about the girls he continued to bring over like an idiot.
“you think we can get rid of the couch now?”
you can feel the vibration of his laugh from where you lay, and sleepily, you half smile at it.
“where am i gonna sit to talk to you then?” he answers with a question of his own.
“right here.” you pat his bare abdomen, fingers moving on their own the moment after to trace the dips of his muscle.
“i dunno,” he sucks in a breath. “we had our first kiss there, it has sentimental value now.”
you raise up quickly from where you lay to snap your head up at him, though it’s probably less intimidating because it takes you a moment to actually open up your eyes.
“kidding.” he assures, pulling you back onto him by your shoulder. “i can always steal some money from my old man for a new one.”
“and we can pick the new one together?” you ask with a yawn.
“whatever you want, angel.” he hums, kissing the crown of your head. “just, no more leather cushions.”
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masterlist | reblogs + feedback is appreciated !
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lxvebun · 13 days ago
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Cuddles with the BNHA boys
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ꨄA/n I really liked the jjk one so I made a BNHA one as well even tho I havent watched it in months😭. Maybe I'll make a haikyuu and genshin one too but it depends on if people want that. I hope you all like this♡
ꨄcontent warning GN!reader. Fluff+comfort. The boys are very soft. Lots of kisses. Mention of shoto being hypervigilant. With Dabi, Hawks, Izuku, Shinsou, Kirishima and Shoto. English is not my first language. Not entirely proofread.
dc k!nk and ed blogs do not interact ty
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Dabi
He is your heated blanket<3
Dabi becomes so soft while cuddling. It's his own little piece of heaven. he forgets about all the stress in his life when you're in his arms. Loves it when you sit on his lap so he can cradle you close to him. He makes sure that you're comfortable and tucked into your blanket before heating up his hands and running them up and down your body while pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and neck <3
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Hawks
Keigo becomes so happy when he finally, after a long day, gets to cuddle with you. He turns into a mess of happy chirps and wing flutters. Keigo always wraps his wings around you when cuddling it keeps you warm and it eases his mind knowing your safe and sheltered in his arms and wings where nothing can hurt you. His chirps and flutters slowly come to a stop as both of you doze off feeling completely safe and relaxed.
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Izuku
You're the love of his life, he adores you and he constantly wants to hold you close to him, so it's not a rare occurrence for you to wake up by him cuddling into you and whispering soft little " I love you's" into your skin. He's very cuddly in the mornings, so don't try to get out of bed too soon cause he will pull you back in and only cling onto you tighter <3
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Shinsou
Shinsou figured out the best way to fall asleep quickly is by cuddling with you under a weighted blanket while his head rests on your chest. He can hear your heartbeat and feel you breathe which both eases any late night anxiety and lulls him to sleep. Scratch his head and he will be asleep in no time. Kiss his forehead and you can guarantee that his dreams will be sweet. ( because he's dreaming of you <3)
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Kirishima
Kiri is always down for a cuddle! He always find a way into your arms no matter what you're doing. Working? Cooking? Not anymore kirishima is pulling you towards the couch because he decided that it's now cuddling time. He'll burrito wrap you into a soft blanket, put your favorite movie on and pull you on top of him. 99% of the time you will fall asleep like this but he doesn't mind, it only means he gets to hold you longer<3
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Shoto
Your cuddles make him feel so safe and protected. When you're cuddling he can completely let go and relax because he knows you would never hurt him, so there isn't any reason for him to be so hypervigilant. He just melts in your arms and it's the cutest thing ever. Please make sure to hold him tightly, he feels safest that way and give him some kisses because angel deserves it<3
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Thank you for reading bunnies<3
♡JJK version♡ ♡BNHA masterlists♡ ♡BYF♡
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writteninkat · a month ago
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BNHA GUYS & THEIR FAVORITE SEX POSITIONS
w/ Bakugou, Todoroki, Dabi, Kirishima, Deku
a/n: it's been a while (a month or more) since i did HC's and i miss doing them eheh :')
navigation
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KATSUKI BAKUGOU
doggy style in front of the mirror
god this just turns him on more than anything in the world.
being able to go crazy on you from behind, watching your fucked-out expression on a mirror, waiting till your arms give out so he can pull them behind you
if he's not in the mood for that he'll either pull you by your hair or wrap his hand around your neck, forcing you to look at your slutty reflection
EIJIRO KIRISHIMA
this man loves to fuck you however you want and how ever he wants as long as he's carrying you
his favorite is when you're in the shower, post-sex clean up. he'll purposely set up his phone facing the glass of the shower, recording the whole h to ing
he'll have you pinned against the glass and let the camera tape everything; your skin, your ass, his cum as it trickles down your leg or the glass
he'll take that recording to work and during his break he has multiple videos to choose from, either with your ass pressed against the glass or your pretty nipples
DABI
sixty-nine
he adores your pussy so much everytime he sees you, the taste of your cunt runs down his tongue
yeah he's obsessed with your kitty but he's also all for equality so he'll have you suck him off while he has his way with your sex
while you give him the blow of his life he likes to just let you sit on his face. literally doing nothing, he'd inhale your scent all day.
SHOTO TODOROKI
ride him like you're trynna get from europe to japan. ride him until your abdomen hurts. just ride him.
he's obsessed with seeing your boobs bounce as you fuck yourself on his cock. he loves watching you slowly unravel, your walls twitching with anticipation to reach your high
while he loves doing everything for you and giving you anything and everything you want, spoiling you rotten, he also loves how youoffer to give him the ride of his life
his favorite place to do it? his car.
doesn't matter which one. you get to choose between seventeen of his cars everyday to work and he feels the act is even more special when you choose the vehicle
choose his mustang, jaguar, audi, mercedes—literally any car you wanna take. he'll let you ride it and him
IZUKU MIDORIYA
he has something about bending you over literally anything and everything he has
the hood of his car, the kitchen counter, dining table, office table, bathroom sink, balcony, anywhere
he loves seeing your adorable knees trembles once he's done with you. you'll have to grab hold onto him for support but it'll be a bad idea cause he'll just want to fuck you even more
he once fucked you in an interview room. a villain who you had just caught is sitting right behind the two-way mirror, oblivious to the hero who had just caught getting wrecked by her boss/husband
he showered you with praises like "you did such a good job" and "i'll reward you beautifully when we get home" but fucked you like you were some whore. and you loved every second of it.
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hornime · 4 months ago
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Omg for your even Dabi w a mommy kink and public sex???? I WOULD ABSOLUTE SELL MY SOUL. ❤
Your brain is huge. ;3; I hope you're having a nice day!!
PALM OF YOUR HAND | DABI X F!READER
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part of my a whole lotta lewd event! [ details | masterlist | CLOSED ]
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warnings: 18+, sub!dabi, f!reader, mommy kink, public sex, degradation, handjob, exhibitionism(ish), begging
a/n: thank you thank you!!! i really hope you like this <3
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dabi doesn't know how this arrangement began. he doesn't know how a powerless civilian like you somehow wrapped him around your quirkless finger and eating out of the palm of your hand. but on nights like these, when he's desperate to get off and finds that he can't do so without you, he really can't bring himself to care.
his back is pressed against your chest, hands bracing himself against the brick wall that you're pushing him into.
he called you, directing you into some downtown alley with his voice laced in neediness and desire.
"please touch me," he'd begged, pleas echoing through your phone speaker. "i need it so bad, mommy, please."
and so, here you were, doing just that: touching him.
your arm snakes across his waist, yanking him closer so that your tits are squished just under his shoulderblades. your fingers dip below his shirt to push the waistband below his balls. he shudders as you wrap them around his cock, hot and heavy.
"you're pathetic," you whisper into his ear. "i can't believe you asked me to come here this late at night just because you couldn't cum. don't you have any shame?"
he whines at your words. he doesn't have any shame, not since you ruined sex with anyone else for him. he needs you, only you, and you both know it.
"sorry, mommy," he blubbers, the first tears beginning to pool at his lashline. "i'm sorry, i just had to. i can't cum without you, mommy. i need you to cum."
"i know, i know." you leisurely stroke your hand along his shaft, the pre-cum leaking from his tip slicking up your palm. "it's not your fault you're such a slut. you just can't help it, can you?"
the sound of chattering fades into earshot as a group of people walks past the alley you're tucked into. the orange glow of the nearby streetlight illuminates just enough so that of they looked in your direction, they'd be able to see dabi hunched over with a hand on his cock. the thought sends a thrill of electricity through your veins.
dabis head rolls back onto your shoulder as your other hand trails up his chest to squeeze his neck.
"ah, mommy," he gasps. "that feels so good, ah, please don't stop."
the hand on his cock moves faster and faster as he bucks his hips up into your grip, desperate for his orgasm. you suddenly halt your movements and he whimpers, carelessly fucking into your fist to chase the stimulation that's quickly slipping away.
"you filthy whore," you say through gritted teeth. "can't you tell that there's people right there? if you're not quiet, they'll hear you. they'll hear dabi, the big, bad villain, begging to cum like a bitch in heat."
the thought of being caught seems to send him into more of a frenzy, choked whines pouring from his lips as he thrusts more fervently into your hand. despite you closing off his windpipe in an effort to keep him quiet, he just can't seem to stay silent.
"god, mommy, yes," he rasps. "i want 'em, want 'em all to see how good you make me feel."
"really?" your hand starts picking up the pace again, languidly stroking from base to tip and back again. "you don't care at all if someone sees you like this?"
"god, no," he wails, chest rising and falling as he pants. "don't care, mommy, i mean it. i jus' wanna cum, don't care about anything else, just wanna cum, just want you to make me cum, please!"
"what a filthy fuckin' slut," you snicker. "you're disgusting."
he moans loud, and you're barely able to cut off the sound by digging you fingers into the tender flesh of his neck.
"mommy, 'm close—"
"—shut the fuck up," you hiss. "you're being so fucking loud."
you shoot a glance over to the street, a devilish smile curling your lips. "fuck, i think they saw—"
dabi howls as he suddenly cums all over your hand, blue flames bursting from his palms and charring the brick they're resting against. the white liquid glides down your knuckles and his thighs, the small sounds of it dripping onto the ground joining the chorus of his shaky inhales of oxygen.
you thread your fingers through his hair and pull his head so that his face is right before your cum-covered hand.
"lick."
he easily complies with the order, tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap up at his release. his lips close around each of your fingers, and he hums, a dazed look in his eyes, as he cleans you up.
"didn't know you could cum so quickly just from thinking someone saw you," you quip. "man, you're fucked up."
"shut up," he growls, typical attitude starting to leak back into his body. "by the way, this is the last time this is happening."
you cackle. "didn't you say that two days ago?"
"i—"
"don't bother, dabi. we both know you'll be begging for more in a few days, tops."
you begin to walk away, leaving him alone in the alley. you tilt you head to look at him over your shoulder.
"and just remember that mommy's always a call away."
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if you enjoyed, reblogs + comments are appreciated!
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© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.
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hhawks · a month ago
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cant stand mean dabi. he’s not mean. he’s a fucking puppy. don’t give me shit like how he fucks you to get himself off but doesn’t care about whether you finish because he does. dabi has you cum on his tongue and fingers three times before he even thinks about pulling his cock out. he’d only fuck you in missionary because that way he can look at you, watch your face as he moves inside you, drink up all your whines and gasps. he’s only rough with you when you beg him to, and i mean beg, because this man wouldn’t come close to hurting you unless he was completely sure it was what you wanted. gives you everything you need, treats you drunk with adoration. dabi is not mean. dabi is lovesick.
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nezuscribe · 2 months ago
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incorrect quotes - mha edition
y/n: i saw a cat falling from the roof today
aizawa: that was shinsou practicing
y/n: i see no difference
---
bakugo: can everyone just shut up for one fucking second, please
y/n: *looks at denki*
denki: *looks at kirishima*
kirishima: *looks at sero*
all four of them harmoniously: we decree you as an energy destroyer, therefore we,
*snaps*
will destroy you
---
deku: i actually have been really nervous to say this, honestly i don't know how i'm doing this but,
y/n: you like me
deku: actually no i twisted my balls and dick the wrong way so i need someone to look at it YeS i LikE YOu
---
shigaraki: damn my hands are crusty dusty
y/n: and dabi's musty rusty
shigaraki: and we're depressed and stressed
both of them leaning on each other's shoulders: welcome to the league of villain's
---
y/n: listen, i know you come from a really bad past but i need to know why you decided to wear hands all over yourself
shigaraki: idk i wanted to
y/n: really?
shigaraki: no bitch you think i wanted rotting hands on me it's for my i m a g e
---
y/n to everyone in the league: so you stabbed someone, you killed your family, you ran away, and you used to be a ua student?
shigaraki: wait who used to be a ua -
toga: actually i stabbed multiple people
---
todoroki: i must be the hand destroyer
y/n: you are also the pussy destroyer
---
dabi: i don't know how you can love me when i'm burnt and vulnerable, it really shows a lot in you to care for someone like me, it truly means a lot, i hope you know
y/n: yes, well, what are we going to do about the body over there?
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sunnyfunerals · 2 months ago
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Dabi x reader in squid game where they’re both players 👀 ✨
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Squid Game AU - Player!Dabi x Player!Reader
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.
Squid Game AU Masterlist
TW: Dabi is one of the scary players, Mentions of Violence and Murder, just a tiny bit of blackmail, implied dubcon.
30 minutes until lights out.
The clock hangs over the room, menacing streak of numbers that keep changing, leading you towards a nightmarish night, at best, and your painful death, at worst. Everyone knows what will happen; now that they're aware killing others in the dorms bears no consequence, the most violent of the players will wait until the lights are out to unleash their murderous fury in an atrocious blood bath.
And then there's you. Defenseless. Like a rabbit locked in with a pack of wolves. As much as you can rely on your wits during the game, you hadn't expected to be forced to fight for your life even at night, when there are no strict rules hanging over the participants and keeping them from hurting or killing others. There is no being smart when you're facing the sharp end of a knife or cowering under the fists of a merciless criminal, and as the numbers keep rolling above the beds, you know you have less than a 10% survival chance.
It feels unfair.
"Why do you keep looking at the clock? You scared or something?"
You raise your eyes to the man standing next to your bed, the knife hidden in the palm of his hand clicking against the metallic bars in annoying sounds. Still, your blood freezes in your veins at the sight of him; his black hair falling in front of cerulean blue eyes, the burn scars littering his face and body, the murderous fury alight in his gaze, waiting, expectant, ready to be unleashed as soon as the countdown strikes 0.
You don't know his name, and the number on his jacket is hidden under a blood stain, almost black now that it has dried, but you remember him, and more specifically the amused smirk that keeps pulling at his lips everytime he takes other players down in the games. He's among the worst ones, you know, among the criminals and murderers who are there because they need a bit of cash to escape from justice, far from the other poor souls forced to take part in such a game simply because they've been indebted after a few financial mistakes.
He's the last person you'd want to see near you when the lights go out.
Because of course, he's right. You're terrified.
"I'm not," you lie, and he barks a laugh. The sound makes you feel small, defenseless, weak, as if you were nothing but a prey cowering while the predator roars in triumph right before devouring them whole.
"Don't be so shy, princess. Want me to protect ya?"
You blink, surprised as he looks down at you, smug smirk pulling at his mismatched lips. You wonder what he did to earn these scars, if they're just the remains of yet another of his crimes, or if they're simply a red flag that you should take into account before accepting whatever it is he's offering.
It's not as if you have a choice, anyway.
And maybe he's just mocking you, playing with your feelings, giving you a sliver of hope before taking it away, but it's all you have, so you slowly nod, and whisper:
"Please."
His fingers are rough, calloussed when they gently stroke your cheek, as if you were a kitten that he'd been dying to pet. His digits slid under your chin before raising it, forcing you to look into his eyes. Blue, beautiful, and yet there's a sparkle of something scary burning in the cerulean irises.
"Alright princess, I'll be your bodyguard for the night. And, don't worry..."
His thumb rises along your chin, lingering a few seconds on your lower lip before slightly pushing until your mouth opens and he can feel the warmth of your tongue on his skin as it slips inside.
He smiles, and you don't think you've ever seen anything so terrifying.
"We'll talk about the price in the morning."
-------
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