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#touya todoroki x you smut
neurthotic · 4 months
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DABI AS A BOYFRIEND ✫
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✫ incurably watches you sleep. you get used to waking up to it eventually. maybe.
✫ neck kisses all the time
✫ his communication skills are shit. you feel like a kindergarten teacher explaining to his expressionless face how to talk about our feelings
✫ he keeps a hand on your back or your shoulder or in your hair when you’re together, absently keeping track of you
✫ “you’re cute when you’re scared.”
✫ warm ass hands
✫ he definitely has a weird and scary thing for pain. “you want to touch the staples? yeah, you can touch them. you can rip them out of my face with your teeth if you like.”
✫ dabi doesn’t do nicknames. pet names are once in a blue moon.
✫ driest texter to walk the earth
✫ the self deprecating jokes are actually mad funny. sir please stop calling yourself crispy
✫ gets very um. creative about degradation.
✫ it’s all “come get in the shower with me” and then you stick a toe in and the water is two degrees away from freezing to ice. sorry not all of us have fire inside okay
✫ he doesn’t like you cautious around his injuries, even treating/tending them: “stop being fucking gentle with me.”
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ramonathinks · 8 months
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EREN, GOJO, GETOU, TOJI, DABI
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dabisqueen · 4 months
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Pornstar!Dabi (Touya Todoroki) x female reader
⇢ word count: roughly 7K
⇢ plot: as a broke student, you sign up for an assistant job at a movie set. It turns out the job is more than you bargained for.
⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, swearing, size kink, pierced big-cock Touya, fingering, cunnilingus (f receiving), multiple orgasms, loss of virginity, overstimulation, exhibitionism (sex in front of other people (movie set)), creampie, sweet aftercare
⇢ personal note: thank you @/blankexpressions-and-falsefires for bring my beta again! As for what you're all about to read – I have no regrets. Virgin kink goes brrr
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"College has always been so crucial, such an essential part of what measures a person’s worth and determines their future."
They say college life is quite challenging. That it can help you come to realize your potential, that you learn more about yourself while in it. That the challenges you experience in university help you grow into a mature person in society.
You have several challenges to face. There's the problem that you focus entirely too much on your studies. In some ways, it’s to secure your future and to compensate for your lack of private life. In other ways, it makes you, because of inexperience, too naive for your own good. Or, as your friends have called it: too innocent. You've never had anyone touch you, never been with anyone in that way. Thus, you never get the hint when someone hits on you or finds you attractive. You have excellent grades – but unlike many of your peers, you’re still a virgin. 
Another challenge you are facing is that you aren't wealthy. One semester into your studies, you are closer to the end than you expected. Leaving your landlord's buro, you take a few steps before coming to a halt and close your eyes as if to gain some semblance of composure. You're broke and desperately need money to cover your rent and living expenses. The bank isn't going to give you another loan, and you find yourself on the verge of having to leave college without a family to support your education.
They say you have to fail first to be successful in the future. But you are beyond failing – you are simply screwed. 
You are very aware of your financial predicament. And you loathe having to live day to day on just pennies. To put it short—you are sick of being a broke-ass, loser virgin.
You sigh. 
Giving up is not a choice. So you do the next best thing: grab life by the horns and start looking for a job. Searching under your bed, clothing pockets, and between couch cushions, you scrounge up enough money to get a local newspaper. In its classified ads, only a few offers deem themselves feasible with your busy school schedule: a late-night shift at a local diner, pizza delivery, or a job doing telemarketing. None of those sound too appealing, but there might not be a choice. Then, your gaze stops at an offer that sounds too good. A movie company is looking for a production assistant on a film set; you don't need prior experience, work hours are during the weekends, and pay is double what the other jobs offer.
You don’t think before hastily grabbing your phone, punching in the number, and waiting while the dial tone rings.
After a distinct click over the other line, a man hisses, "Shimura?"
"Uhm, hi. I- I am calling about the assistant job offer. I was wondering—"
"You're hired. Tomorrow at 5 pm," the man at the other end interrupts in an annoyed tone.
He rattles off the address as you fumble around for a pen, hastily writing it down when you find it.
Before you can reply, he finishes with Don't be late and hangs up unceremoniously.
You exhale, realizing you’ve been holding your breath since he started speaking.
What the hell just happened? 
***
The path to the location is littered with brown leaves, and you struggle to keep from slipping as you walk toward the building. The address given to you is an old warehouse on the edge of town. Its monotonous, featureless walls covered in graffiti make it feel abandoned. There are no visible signs that anything is happening inside at all.
As you walk across the parking lot, you start to see small indications of life: fancy cars—far too fancy for this area- and sensual music permeating through the corrugated steel walls. 
You weren’t sure how to dress for a job you knew nothing about, so you opted for blue jeans, a white blouse, and pointy shoes with heels. Your hair is tied into a neat ponytail, and simple smokey eyes complete the look. 
You aim for a large steel door that the cars are all parked close to. As you lift your head, you take in the old brick building you are standing in front of, lined with large casement metal windows. 
There is a single doorbell, no name on it, and you hesitate before inhaling and pressing it with the tip of your finger.
You hear a clicking sound, and then the heavy door swings inwards. 
Alright, here goes nothing.
***
The set is surprisingly professional—like a luxurious bedroom sliced in half. A row of chairs faces the set on a concrete floor behind multiple cameras and some sound equipment, with the crew standing around talking.
The producer, Tenko, as he introduces himself to you–with tufts of pale hair and seemingly chronic dry lips in dire need of some chapstick – explains that your job will consist of helping around the set, distributing beverages, and handing out the script. Simple work you could do. After introducing you to the crew, he hands you a stack of papers, instructing you to pass them out.
Then you see her—the actress. She is gorgeous, dressed in an ivory-colored silk robe. Her hair is the color of the sun. Her skin is flawless and tanned, and her body is perfect- although almost definitely sculpted by a professional surgeon.
"Where the fuck is he?" You hear Tenko grumble, pulling a phone from his pocket, thumb tapping against the screen.
A flurry of activity breaks your concentration. A door flies open, and a man strides through—the leading actor, you gather, from how everyone else suddenly perks up.
"Fucking finally," the pale-haired director groans, tucking his cell back into the pocket of his jacket.
The man's hair is coal-colored, falling in messy strands into his face. His eyes remind you of the bright ocean, almost glowing in the dim light of the set. His sharp lips pull into a wide grin, his canines peeking out. He is casually dressed, wearing a pair of dark, ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, allowing you to notice just how well-toned his arms are. He is handsome, with delicate yet masculine features and sharp angles set in his face. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and his thin lips form a troublesome grin when his eyes meet yours. 
Shit. 
He holds your gaze before dragging his sinfully blue eyes over your figure and looking away again. Your heart skips a beat because even in the low light, you can see that the actor is incredibly hot. Totally your type. You can't help but stare at him, watching how he moves, the way his muscles ripple under the thin fabric of his shirt, the way his thighs bulge in his tight pants. 
Speaking of bulge. 
It's the biggest one you've ever seen, and the sight of it sends a pang straight to your core. Your cheeks heat up automatically. 
Stop it!
You curse inwardly a few times for thinking lewd thoughts on a professional movie set.
But—you can't help it. He just looks too handsome. It stirs something inside of you you've never felt before. You sigh, knowing that this man has already made his way into your dreams, but in the end, they’ll stay just that— dreams. 
Someone like him would never want to lay a hand on you.
As he approaches the stage, the man stops dead in his tracks, staring at the actress with a bored expression. 
“Not her again.” You hear him groan.
The actress snaps her head around, a stunned expression on her face. “Pardon me?”
"The script calls for an innocent girl." The actor deadpans. "No one's gonna believe that with you in the female role."
The actress jumps to her feet. “How dare you talk about me like that!”
Tenko hisses, “Didn't you read the script? You would have known you film with her today, Touya—"
“I told you not to use my real name on set,” he says with a blase, somewhat impatient gaze.
“And I told you not to let out your frustration on the set, Dabi.” The director retorts.
“Frustration caused by your actions.” Dabi deadpans.
You hold your breath as your eyes dart from the director to Dabi and back to the actress. The rest of the crew acts like this is an everyday commotion on the set. 
“This is not a request— I'm not doing the scene with her, " Dabi says, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
The actress jumps from her chair, visibly outraged, as her cheeks flare red with anger. “You're such a dick!”
“Yeah, you're right. But I’m the best dick in the industry.” He turns around, a sardonic finality in his tone.
You stare at the scene before you, the forgotten papers clutched tightly to your chest. The blonde woman stares at the dark-haired man, infuriated. 
“So, it's either me—or her.” Dabi addresses Tenko, who isn't even trying to de-escalate the situation. “That's my final say.”
“I can't believe you're doing this to me!" The woman wails exaggeratedly.
"Sweetheart, we need someone who conveys innocence. Not some chick as fake-looking as you," Dabi purrs with false care. “Go carry your plastic off the stage already.”
Tenko scratches his neck in annoyance. He watches as the actress slings an array of profanities at Dabi before storming off with quick strides toward the door, slamming it shut behind her.
The dark-haired man stands at ease, reaching into his pants pocket to retrieve a cigarette, lighting it, and taking a deep drag. “Thank god she's gone. What were you thinking, Tenko?”
“Dabi, she's the most requested—” 
“I don't give a fuck.” he runs a free hand through his dark bangs. “She sucks.”
You listen to them bicker, getting more confused by the second. 
“So—what do you expect me to do now?” Tenko's scratching increases as he starts pacing up and down the set. “Production costs will double if we cut and pick things up on a different day. Not to mention the cost of finding a new replacement.”
He jumps off his chair, pacing around the set. Then he grumbles, “We’ll take a ten-minute break. I need to come up with a solution or else—”
“We need someone Pretty, no makeup, normal clothes.” Dabi suggests, "That won't be too expensive. Someone who looks undefiled, innocent.” Dabi's gaze wanders across the room. “Like a student or something.”
Then he sees you, and a smirk tugs at his lips. His stunning sapphire eyes look you up and down. You swallow hard, your shaking hands almost crumpling the papers in their tight grip.
"Like her." Teal eyes narrow as they focus on you. 
You blink back at him dumbly, the room around you completely silent.
"Me?" You answer, his words catching you off guard.
"Yep. You." Dabi's smirk returns, a playfulness in his eyes. 
The director stares at you with the same baffled expression written on your face. "Her?"
"Yep. Her." His grin widens.
"B-But, I can't!" You counter. " I'm a simple student, not an actress—"
"That's exactly what we need." The twinkle in his eyes is still there, "And you have a pussy, don't you?"
"Yes, I—” You catch yourself, your cheeks flaring hot. “W- What does that even have to do with this movie?"
Suddenly, the room goes alive with murmurs and whispers.
Dabi quirks a brow. "You're telling me you don't know?"
"Don't know what?" You helplessly look around.
The dark-haired man turns to his director, "You didn't tell her?!"
Tenko mumbles something about how you would have found out eventually. 
Dabi steps toward you and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Doll, this is an adult film set."
"A what?" You dumbly blink at him.
"An adult film set. You know, where people fuck." He leans forward, deep azures sparkling salaciously. "You know how fucking works, don't you?"
"Yes, I mean—in theory?" A heat washes over your face and flushes down your entire body.
"Yes or no. What is it?" Dabi asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow.
The heat in your face has reached the tip of your ears as you stammer. "It's none of your business."
He steps even closer. "C’mon, sweetheart, tell us."
He smirks, eyes narrowing as he leans closer. He looks at your lips, then back at your eyes. You can smell him with how close he is leaning in. His deep, masculine scent surrounds you, sending a jolt of heat straight through your core. Even though your mind wants to scream at him, to tell him off, you hear a timid voice whisper, "I’ve used my fingers? Maybe some toys?"
It is your voice.
"You're telling me you've never done it with another person?" This time, it is Dabi’s turn to sound baffled as he leans back, taking you in. "That you're a virgin."
"I-I…" You stammer, swallowing dryly.
Looking over his shoulders, he calls over to his director, "It'll break records if we film this. You're aware of that, right?"
"I am." Tenko snaps, scratching at his neck irritably, "You don't need to tell me."
"Ok, then it's a deal.” He nods towards you. “I want her—or I'm leaving."
"You little piece of—" Tenko growls. "That's extortion."
"You won't regret it," Dabi says, shrugging nonchalantly.
"Shouldn’t I have a say on this too?" You ask, but both men ignore your words.
"Ok, it's a deal," Tenko murmurs. "How much do we pay her?"
Dabi turns his gaze back to you. "You need money, right? Or else you wouldn't be here.”
"That’s none of your business."
"C'mon, sweetheart, This is your chance."
“Yes, I mean… " a sound of annoyance bubbles up your throat. "I can't afford my rent anymore, and my landlord will kick me out if I don't pay up soon."
“I sense an opportunity here," Dabi smirks. "Tenko, how much will you pay her if she agrees to do this with me?"
"How much do you want?" Tenko asks you.
“I-I don't know. I've never thought about it." You shyly add.
"Pay her rent plus an allowance," Dabi suggests. "Tenko, you know she's worth it."
"That’s too m—" You swallow hard.
Tenko mumbles disgruntledly: "OK, I'll do it.” 
“You what?" His words leave you stunned.
Dabi interrupts quickly. "What he's saying, sweetheart, is that he'll pay for your rent - if you let me fuck you.”
His lewd words and the deep blue pools of his stunning eyes send a flutter through your stomach. 
“In front of all these people?!" 
“That's what porn is all about, doll.” Dabi chuckles, studying your reaction.
You swallow hard.
"So? What's it gonna be?" He cocks his head, waiting. 
You have always prioritized safety, so common sense tells you to stick to your usual way of life. However, look where common sense has led you: You're almost broke and may need to drop out of college. 
This could be a bad decision. But, it's time to throw safety to the sea.
"OK, I'll do it," you proclaim, and a round of applause and cheers erupt on the set while Dabi nods appreciatively.
“Congratulations, you're hired. Now, get ready before I change my mind.” Tenko waves a hand. “We still have a movie to film here.”
Your heart starts to race, a crushing weight bearing down on your chest. But you know that you have no choice. It's either a free porn loan—or being a forced college dropout. Taking a deep breath, you ball your hands into fists, trying to ignore the signs of panic your body is giving you.
"Okay, everyone, resume positions. And hand her the script.” Tenko moves to his chair, sitting down in it. “Let's do the first take." 
"Hold on," Dabi says. "Why not do it a bit differently this time? No script, no acting— just raw footage. The whole thing.”
“You mean a one-shot film?” Tenko looks surprised. “I suppose that would work. Especially with a new actress.”
“Are you okay with that, doll?” Dabi smiles at you, and there's a warmth in his voice that wasn't there before.
“Do I have a choice?” you sigh.
“Not really.” He winks.
"Are you two lovebirds done flirting over there? " Tenko asks, " Because we're ready to film.”
“We weren't flir—” you protest, but Dabi bridges the distance between you.
"So, sweetheart?" He leans in, his face hovering close, sharing a breath with you. "How are you feeling about being fucked on camera?"
“Nervous.” you bite your lips, your face starting to burn.
"Doll, don't be; just focus on me," he soothes, stroking your cheek. “Forget about everyone else; I'll take care of you.”
He takes your hand and pulls you towards the bedroom set.
“Quiet!” Tenko raises a hand, and complete silence falls over the set as the crew prepares to film you both. 
Tenko calls out a set of commands, which different crew members around the room answer.
“Sound?”
“Set.”
“Camera?”
“Set.”
“Roll sound.”
“Sound rolling.”
“Roll camera.” 
“Camera Speed.” 
“Marker.”
A man with a clapper board enters the scene and calls, "Scene one. Take—uhm— whatever." 
Dabi nods, and that is the cue. The lights dim, and the cameras vanish into the darkness; only the red lights betray their existence. 
You glance around, your stomach in knots, as you realize that this is no game, that this is it. The only thing visibly lit was the bed standing a few feet away. The crew's faces are barely visible as everyone watches you, the man behind the camera tilting it, filming you from bottom to top.
“Hey baby, you alright?” You hear Dabi's voice.
“N-No, not really.” You stammer, your hands trembling, your breathing picking up, as your eyes frantically dart around the dark set. “I don't know if I can do this.”
“Sweetheart, look at me.” You feel a finger hook under your chin when Dabi tilts your head to meet his gaze. It's intense, the turquoise of his irises gleaming almost unnaturally. 
You feel your heart sink into your stomach as his thumb caresses your skin. When he closes the already minimal distance between you, your eyes flutter close in reflex. His lips are sensually warm and addicting against your cheek, and your heart starts thrashing wildly inside your chest in response. Something changes between you, an intimacy blooming as the voices of the people mute.
It's all you need to distract your mind, to make your body heat up. Not with anxiety—
—but in anticipation. 
“Are you ready to give me your virginity?” His low voice rumbles close to your ear.
You nod, like in a haze, every caress of his lips causes your skin to tingle, to burn with passion. He shifts, and you feel him faintly brush your lips, and a zap of electricity courses through your veins. Then, your lips are united in his first tentative kiss. They are so soft, and the way he kisses you is so delicate, almost tender— deliberately slow.
You relax, giving in to how wonderful this feels. His tongue slowly traces the shape of your lips, and you feel your brain short-circuiting. Angling your head to the side, you part your lips, begging him to enter. Dabi reacts instantly, his tongue slipping your mouth, delving deeper, tasting you, consuming you.
You groan—how could a man taste so good?
It makes your knees buckle, and you start panting into his mouth, your instincts taking over, your body reacting to his touch. A desire, a passion, awakens like a wild animal roaring, and you feel a wave of arousal pool in your panties. You can't help it, and you slide your hand underneath his shirt, your other hand circling his neck. You can feel him smirking into the kiss, but the sound carries off into a groan when you rake your nails down the small of his back. 
As he breaks away, a warmth lingers between you and him while he admires your wet, pink, swollen lips, "A little eager for your first time, huh?"
The kiss leaves you dizzy, and you can't seem to form an answer, too stricken by his closeness and intoxicating scent.
The moment passes, and then his lips smash against yours so fast you don't even have time to react. He presses his hips against yours, his clothed hardness grazing against your heat, letting you feel just how hard you’ve made him.
Holy shit.
He's not gentle anymore; he's rough and demanding now. He is taking you, enjoying the shaky gasps that leave your lips. Dabi’s hands trail down your side to find your ass cheeks. He lifts you by the thighs onto his waist skillfully, never breaking the kiss. Carrying you easily toward the bed he releases his hold and you topple onto it, panting heavily.
The lights around you heat the air, and you notice one camera panning across the set while the other tracks toward you on a dolly. Just as your heart starts picking up an anxious speed again, you see a movement to the side. Dabi yanks his shirt above his head, the muscles in his stomach flexing with every movement.
The second the fabric touches the floor, he's on you with his lips pressed to yours and his tongue in your mouth. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment of passion and all you can see is him. Your stomach somersaults and the world around you ceases to exist; it is just you and him— the people around you and the cameras wholly forgotten. The world, right now, only revolves around the two of you.
“You taste so fucking good,” he breathes into your mouth, hazy eyes glowing with arousal. "How do you taste so fucking good?”
You feel his hand sneak underneath your shirt to slowly pull it off over your head. Next, he skillfully removes the rest of your clothes off until you are lying below him, sex and breasts cupped by delicate cotton underwear. 
“Look at that,” he muses. “So innocent.”
Sliding his hand behind your back, he unhooks the bra with an expert pinch of his fingers. Your breasts spill out as he slides the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside. Then his gaze lingers on your soft, round tits.
“Damn,” he cups them and squeezes them gently, “Where have you been hiding, girl? You're perfect.”
He slides his fingers over your nipples and a low moan tears from your throat. Dabi lets out a low rumble as his hands continue to work your breasts, rubbing and plucking at your stiffening nipples. There’s a deep throb low in your body, pulsing between your thighs, and you're startled at the way you’re reacting. You are so turned on—his touch only adds to your body’s cravings, and as his large palms glide over your breasts; it pulls the breath from your lungs as it simultaneously fuels your desire. His thumbs drag over your nipples again, rolling it between his fingers before leaning down to lick at your pebbled nub. He makes you feel breathless with excitement the more he focuses on toying with your breasts, rolling the tips back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. 
It makes you crazy with need until you're aching, shivering throughout your entire body. You're gasping for breath the entire time Dabi has his lips wrapped around your erect nub, sucking it to send a tingling sensation straight through to your core. Then he's biting just hard enough to make you squeal before soothing the puckered nub with a flick of his tongue.
“You’ve got the most amazing tits,’ Dabi murmurs against your skin. “So soft and full. So natural.”
While he switches from pliant nipple to pliant nipple, you feel a stray hand hook its fingers under the seams of your panties. He releases your nipple with a pop and peppers kisses down to your tummy while he adeptly pulls the little piece of fabric down and off your legs. You're now utterly naked below him while Dabi continues revering your body with wet kisses and nibbles, moving downward until you feel his warm breath on your pubic mound. He spreads your trembling legs, his eyes glazing over your pussy, pupils expanding and then retracting into pin slits.
"Look at that pretty pussy." His breath is hot against your soaked folds. "And so fucking wet—you're dripping."
A shameful sound spills from your lips at his words, and you writhe in his hold. But his hands keep you in place. 
"You're seriously telling me,” he slides his fingers up and down your glistening folds, “No one's been here before?"
You squirm below him as a camera zooms in on where Dabi’s eyes are affixed– between your thighs.
“Cause you have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He snickers. “And I've seen a lot.” 
His warm, calloused fingers slide up and down your slippery folds, his hot breath fanning over your sex. Then he spreads apart your sweet lips; it makes you shudder in anticipation, and Dabi chuckles.
“I can see you twitching for me.” A finger sinks in, making you arch your back the deeper it goes. 
The camera behind him zooms in on your blushing face, and you cover it with trembling hands. 
"Nu-uh, no hiding. Look at me." He slaps your clit lightly—making you jolt. "Let us see your pretty face."
You whimper softly, because you've touched yourself before—
—but this just feels so much more intense.
“Dabi—” you choke out, flinching in pleasure when he slides a hand underneath your ass, 
raising your hips to have more access to you. 
“Relax, baby, I'll take care of you.” A growl tears from his throat, and then he drags his tongue over your gleaming folds, tasting you. 
You cry out, your body shuddering. Over and over, Dabi licks you with deep, claiming strokes, using his tongue to explore every bit of you. 
“Damn, you taste better than anything I've ever tasted.” He pushes his wet muscle into your core, frantic to have more of you. 
“Oh my God. Dabi!” Your toes curl, and your thighs tighten around him. You're both – startled and aroused at his eagerness. Any worries you have are melting away as he drags his tongue over you again and again, making you squirm with need.
A moan escapes your lips– loud, uncontrolled– when his tongue flicks over your folds. When he grazes your little button, you jolt as if you've been stung. 
He hums appreciatively and buries his face into your warmth, seeking out that sweet nub. Your body jerks as he moves his tongue over it, repeating the action when he does it again. You give a little wail, and your hands curl into the fabric the longer he teases. He eagerly works that spot, and you cry out with little choked gasps.
As his tongue circles your clitoris, your sensations spiral out of control. You can feel the tension increasing in your body with a growing urgency to be released. 
“Dabi,” you pant with every flick of his tongue. But he doesn't respond, does not hear– or pretends not to. He buries his face in your folds, hands holding you down by your hips.
With every quiver that moves through your body, with every shiver of response, every tensing of your muscles, you draw closer to the edge.
You writhe against Dabi, with his face between your thighs, lapping at your juices. All the while, he continues to work your little clit with his tongue in slow, steady strokes. 
Suddenly, the feeling that you’re about to cum overwhelms you. Your pussy clenches, dripping with your juices, and your clit is ready to burst.  
Your hips jerk against him, and then a release explodes in your mind, your thoughts crashing all around you. You come with a slight scream that morphs into a moan, but Dabi does not stop his ministrations—
—no.
He continues to lick and suck as you come and come and come.
It's too much; you feel like exploding. You’re a moaning mess, fingers slipping between Dabi’s strands, pushing and pulling at his roots unsure if you can take it if he keeps going like that. 
Your entire body is on fire. The orgasm continues to surge through you– more intense than anything you’ve experienced by yourself– with Dabi gently sucking and licking at your clit. You are delirious, feel like you are floating with no way to find your path back to earth. 
“Dabi, please—” you choke out.
Dabi’s mouth detaches from your overstimulated nub and straightens up, licking your cum’s sweetness off his lips. Crawling on top of you, he gazes into your eyes. “Doll, tell me—what do you want me to do?”
You see his jeans straining from the bulk of his erection and swallow, your body responding with a flood of hormones. 
“Please fuck me,” you whisper, thinking in ways you never have before.
You want to beg him to be gentle, but you can’t seem to form the words when you see him unbuckle his belt before unzipping his jeans, his eyes carefully watching your expression as he does. His cock springs to life, and you swallow thickly. It's enormous—and pierced. 
You feel a momentary pang of doubt, questioning if that monster will even fit inside you. The previous excitement and adrenaline pumping through your veins gradually turn to panic. Your breathing picks up as you stare at his cock, wide-eyed. 
“You look worried,” Dabi says, stroking it with one hand. His raised eyebrows and amused grin tell you he's used to this type of reaction. 
“Are you sure…” you nod towards his cock.
“Trust me,” he says. “I’ll make sure you feel good. It’ll be the greatest thing you'll ever experience.”
Your entire body yearns for his touch, and there’s no way you're saying no now. He’s spreading you wide open, hands on your knees, before he moves to hold himself in hand to align his cock with your entrance.  
"Do you want me to fuck you?’ Dabi asks as he drags the head of the tip up and down your slit. 
“‘S not gonna fit,” you whine with a worried expression.
“Don't be scared,” Dabi says, "I know what I'm doing. So, you'll be a good girl and take it all, right?”
“I'm not sure,” you whisper.
“I know you can...” His eyes stare at you with a desire so intense that you almost feel intimidated. 
He’s spreading you wide open, hands on your knees, before he moves one to hold himself and align his cock to your entrance. The pressure between your legs increases as Dabi nudges the pierced tip of his cock against you.
“Get ready,” he whispers.
A mix of a gasp and a cry leaves your lips as Dabi strains against you, feeling like he’s trying to shove a massive pole inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut as tears gather in your lashes, and Dabi holds back, kissing you, waiting for you to relax.
“Easy,” he says softly, “I’ve got you.” 
The softness of his tone relaxes you and the tension in your shoulders lessens. Then, somehow, something gives way, and he enters you. You gasp, your body opening up to accommodate the massive dick that is now sliding inside of you. 
"Oh my god—” You throw your head back, hands clawing at his shoulders in a weak attempt to push him away.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, eyebrows furrowing before he hits resistance and then pushes forward.
There’s a sharp pain slicing through your core, and you don't know if it's from the stretch or a tear. Probably both. It hurts, and you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing tears down your cheek. Dabi continues to push his hips forward, only stopping once he’s entirely inside, heavy balls pressed against the crease of your ass. The cameras zoom in on the bulge in your womb, where his dick sits buried deep inside of you. But you don't notice them, your brain too consumed by him filling you up, his whole weight resting against you. 
“You ok?” Breathing heavily, he drags his eyes back and forth over your face. 
“Gimme a sec.” Your lips press into a thin line as the pain from the stretch slowly turns into a dull throb. After a moment, you nod...
"I'm gonna start moving now," Dabi says— and then does precisely that. 
Just as you start to feel your body relaxing, he withdraws, only to plunge himself in again. The sudden shock of the movement is incredible. You feel every ridge, every single thick vein. It feels fantastic, and as he slowly slides back in, you can appreciate every inch of his cock. He starts an even rhythm, rocking inside you gently. 
“Shit, just squeezed me so fucking tight,” he moans in response. "I’m warning you, don't make me lose my composure. You don’t want to see me act up.”
Your mind feels detached from your body; you don't hear him, don't even notice the camera zooming in, focusing on how your face scrunches and your lips quiver because of how good he makes you feel. 
He grabs you by the waist and brings you closer to him. Raising both legs in the air, he pushes them forward until your body is folded in half.
“Oh—shit—” You choke out, the walls of your sex stretching to accommodate him. 
“I’m gonna make you cum,” Dabi is panting hard as he starts driving his cock rapidly in and out of you. “You won't be able to walk for days.”
“I-I can’t—” your jaw slackens as you tighten around his dick again, the ability to form comprehensive answers having left you the moment he breached your walls.
He rams himself deeper while his fingers slip between your strands, guiding your face upward, your mouths colliding in a frantic kiss. 
It starts as a slow burn that gradually builds into a white, blistering heat. A feeling begins coursing through you, making you lose control of your body. You tense and arch your back, your head digging back into the pillow, voice caught in your throat. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, all that tension releases, and you cry out loud, a turbulent wave of pleasure hitting you like a storm. All your nerve endings are seemingly set ablaze while Dabi fucks you through your orgasm. 
His eyes are wide with wonder, hearing and feeling you come undone around him. The way your eyes are shut tightly in pleasure, your entire body trembling and shaking in ecstasy, is the best thing he's ever seen. It makes his chest swell with pride. Still, it feels like it's not enough, though, and he needs more. He wants to own you, possess you, make you his.
Dabi snaps. 
With a suppressed growl, Dabi grabs you by your hips and flips you over onto your stomach. He's not letting you catch your breath before he propels his cock back inside you again. His hand slides from the dip in your spine to the spot between your shoulder blades, pressing down until your face is buried in the sheets. At this angle, he reaches even deeper than before, his piercings rubbing your G-spot just right. Your hands tightly fist the soft duvet with every drive of his hips, knocking the air from your lungs.
Dabi seems delirious, pistoning in and out of you now. Reaching forward, he gathers your hair around his fist, tugging it to keep you in place, forcing your head up from the sheets. You sob out his name, your chin and cheeks covered with your drool and tears. 
But Dabi is drowning too deep in pleasure to notice. 
"I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll never think of anyone but me in your fantasies," Dabi growls while your elbows shake under the pressure of his forceful thrusts.
Slowly, your mind is falling apart with the pleasure pulsing through your body. Dabi starts drilling his big cock into your even faster now. You tremble below him, thighs quivering when you feel another orgasm building up. 
“You gonna cum for me again, princess?” Dabi groans, “I can feel your pussy clenching around me.”
You nod, too exhausted to form any words. Dabi tightens his hold on your hip, fingers digging into your plush skin, holding you still. 
“I’m gonna cum with you,” he tells you. “I’m gonna fill up your tight hole, gonna breed you so good—fuck!”
"Please—" you whimper pathetically, finding yourself trapped in his lewd promises. 
And then you lose it, feeling like the world is disappearing underneath your feet. Pleasure rips through you, leaving you with no strength. It’s an intense tingling pleasure that starts in your core and spreads through your whole body, from your fingertips down to your toes. It's all-consuming and euphoric, your body not knowing what to do with that much sensation at once. 
You feel your body falling off a cliff into a pile of tingling ecstasy as you cum again with a broken whimper escaping your lips. The orgasm is even more potent than the last ones, like a massive burst of pleasure; all that tension explodes and shoots up the back of your legs and everywhere else. You moan and shudder, your pussy clamping around his cock. 
“That’s it,” Dabi lets out a long, shuddering groan. “Just like that.”
You forget to breathe while Dabi keeps fucking your harder and harder, feral with desire, shoving his cock as deep inside you as he can.
“Oh fuck—” You gasp out, arching your back, fingers twisting against the sheets.
No sooner have the words slipped from your lips that you feel your whole body lock tight again—and then unravel. You forget to breathe as an unending cascade of euphoria detonates deep inside of you. You come undone, shaking uncontrollably as juices gush from your pussy, dripping down Dabis balls, drenching the sheets below. 
Dabi groans, his eyes screwing shut, head dropping back. With one final possessive thrust of his hips, he cums, shooting his seed deep inside you. You feel his cock twitch as he moans heavily, eyebrows sewn together. His body is shuddering, his hips hitching while he rides out his orgasm.
You’re faintly aware of your surroundings, buried too deeply in your bliss. Unable to take any more pleasure, you slump backward. Dabi slides his softening cock from you with an obscene wet sound before dropping down onto the bed beside you, taking you with him.
“Fuck…” he breathed out, caressing your skin. “That felt so—”
‘And—cut!’ You hear a voice call, speaking its way into the mush that is your brain, slapping you back to reality.
You open your eyes and look around in shock, having completely forgotten where you are. The lights switch on, almost blindingly bright. People start hustling about the set, and cameras mere inches away from you now pull back into their waiting positions. 
“That was perfect,” you hear Tenko say through the noise filling the set now.
Your breath catches in your throat, an unsettling feeling beginning to well inside you. Your heart starts pounding at an increasingly rapid pace while you feel panic stretch its icy fingers up your spine.
You feel a warm hand cradling your face, angling it to the side. It’s Dabi. He places his mouth over yours without further ado. 
“You are perfect.” Dabi coos into the kiss, and it happens again— butterflies erupt in your gut, the world around you fading until there's only you and him.
Instinctively, you let go, feeling the tension slowly dissipate and your heart calming down. Dabi smiles as he breaks away from you, and you feel it— a lingering warmth, an unseen connection that spins fragile threads between you both.
A man approaches to help you get out of bed, but Dabi, whose face is still dewy with sweat, moves between you both. He takes the bathrobe from the guy and wraps it around your shivering body before getting dressed himself.
Helping you off the bed, he drapes an arm around your shoulder and leads you past the celebrating crew members from the set until you’re backstage. 
Once in the changing room, he closes the door behind him and leans against it. 
“That was something…” he muses. “You’re a natural. Would you ever consider doing this again with me?’ 
You're caught off-guard, his face radiating a tenderness that fills your heart with something joyful. A warmth spreads across your face, your hands gripping the soft belt of your robe as you nip at your lower lip. “I-I don't know.”
“You should,” Dabi kicks off the door frame and saunters over you with a sinful, obscene sway of his hips. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing in a silent agreement, pulling you into a tight embrace. “Think about it…”
He lets the words hang in the air for a second. When he pulls away, his arms wrap around your neck, lower half still pressed against you as if you’re not a stranger. He looks down at you like the two of you have been dating for years.
“So, I was wondering… what are you doing later on?” Dabi kisses the tip of your nose. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat and get some drinks?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” A new desire for him grows inside of you. You smile back at him, reaching up to gently play with his dark hair.
“Maybe?” His lips curl into a devious smirk.
“Is this even allowed?” Chest to chest, your heartbeat slowly catches up to his, as if your bodies react simultaneously to each other's warm touch.
“Maybe?” Dabi repeats, his thumb gently brushing along your lips.
When you look into his eyes, a tenderness softens the rough edges of his sharp features. It makes you wonder, he’s been so sweet and caring after everything that happened today– you actually believe he’s a genuinely sincere and nice guy. You feel your heart quiet when you’re with him, as if you have found peace. 
“Well…” you consider, “I've just thrown all my morals into the wind. So, might as well go on a date with a pornstar, right?”
“You won't regret it.” Dabis laughs softly. “Even though you might not be able to move after I'm done with you—”
“Is that so…” You are torn between scolding him or laughing because he's so cute. “Ok, big boy, whatever you say.”
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dabislittlemouse · 3 months
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❝𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝘿𝘼𝘿𝘿𝙔’𝙎 𝘽𝙄𝙂𝙂𝙀𝙎𝙏 𝙁𝘼𝙉.❞
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Dabi x Endeavor fan!Reader (+18)
SYNOPSIS : Dabi finds out that his beloved pretty girl is actually an Endeavor fan. Let’s just say, he doesn’t take it lightly~
WARNINGS ‼️: yandere!Dabi , stalking, smut, humiliation, noncon, unprotected sex, Dabi uses his quirk on you, bruises/marks/abuse
A/N: this fic is dedicated to @yanderenightmare , for the Secret Santa event. I hope you enjoy this, I’m a big fan of your work and I was more than thrilled to write this for you. ♡
MASTERLIST
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Two months.
That’s for how long he had been around you. At first it was just small glimpses of him on the street, quite too often on your way home, but you didn’t think of it much. Or the times when he’d casually be in the same coffee shop every morning, his jacked zipped and hood covering his face, wearing sunglasses as he stared at you from across the corner. Though he would show his face only during the nights, the beauty he radiated left you breathless, the scars and staples that decorated his face had your eyes popping out of your sockets. He intimidated you, but you couldn’t deny that he was irresistibly handsome. The raven haired man who finally approached you one day and introduced himself as Dabi, he captivated you entirely.
He had set his azure eyes on you this entire time, stalking you on your way home, learning the time when you go to work and come back, your favorite shops and bars, and he would follow you and admire you from afar. Dabi was not a man who would let such distractions mess with his life, but you…
You were a beautiful distraction.
Some fun wouldn’t hurt, right? He knew his main goal, and you were by no means a threat to his plans. How could you? Pretty little thing walking down the street with no care in the world, not knowing the danger lurking nearby, the villain chasing after you. Dabi picked on all your habits, your favorite drinks or food, the people you met, and being good at gathering information and studying people he had already set his mind to make you his. Your charming personality felt like a cure to his dark soul, your beauty was a sight for sore eyes. He was not one to know what love feels like, and he sure as hell knew that he didn’t love you. All he needed was to possess you, the fucked up part of him wanting to have you and break you, make you miserable just the way he is, only to fix you again in any shape he wanted to.
But all he needed was time, time for you to trust him and let him in your life, and once you got to know his true self, he’d never let you go.
Though what he didn’t know was your true self either. Or mostly, what you’d do behind closed doors. Dabi knew your apartment, which floor you lived in, but he didn’t break in. Yet.
And in fact, there was no need to break in. Your little naive self invited him to your home for dinner, a small gratitude since the other day he beat up two guys down the street who were following after you.
“Thank you so much Dabi.. I honestly can’t even imagine what would happen if you weren’t here!” You trembled in his arms, hugging him tight. The two thugs were laying unconscious on the ground.
“Could never leave ya unprotected, dollface” Dabi patted your back, smirking at the way you clinged to him, to your saviour. Little did you know he was in fact, worse than those thugs. After you left, Dabi went back to the beaten up thugs, almost wanting to step on them.
“W-We did as you said! Now give us the reward!” one of them shouted.
“Silence.” Dabi said sternly. “You touched her more than I actually ordered you to. Did ya really think you’d take advantage of the situation huh?”
“What are you talking about?! I swear we didn’t-”
Their talking was interrupted by the scorching heat that melted off their skins, screams of agony and death echoing in the alleyways. Dabi nonchalantly walked past their corpses, leaving behind the wretched scent of burnt flesh, one he was now too familiar with.
And now here he was, in front of you door as your cheerful face appears, letting him in.
“Mm, smells nice in here” he says, walking in your dining room. “You really look good in that apron, like a pretty little housewife. Y’really did all this for me~?”
You blush at his comment, knowing that tonight you gave it your best to cook something delicious just for him.
“Well.. yeah..as a way to thank you, enjoy yourself!”
“Oh, I will enjoy myself alright..” he grins, looking at your figure from head to toe, licking his lips.
The dinner was on the table but your sight made him salivate more than the food itself. He had the urge to tear those clothes off your body and bend you over that dining table, fucking you from behind ruthlessly. The waiting game had him edged for long enough, and Dabi had run out of patience. In one way or another, you would end up with your legs spread for him tonight. Either if you wanted it or not.
As time passed by, you both finished eating, where Dabi praised your cooking skills, claiming he’d never eat something as delicious as your homemade meal. It made you feel giddy, his compliments always making you squeal in your seat.
“Y’have a nice home” Dabi says, wandering and looking around. “Real cozy and decent compared to the shithole I live in…”
“Glad you like it, I was in fact planning to uh..” you mumble shyly. “To have a sleepover tonight.. maybe watch a movie or two..”
A sly smirk formed on Dabi’s face, because both you and him knew where all of this would lead to. He’s been waiting for this moment in anticipation, not that he couldn’t take you by force. Though he enjoyed the chase more, when you finally go willingly to him.
“Sure thing doll, sounds fun” he says. “Which one of these is your room?”
“It’s the one at the end of the corridor, on the left!” you answer, fixing the table. “Please don’t mind the mess, haven’t had much time to clean my room today”
Funny you think I’d mind some mess, Dabi thinks to himself, remembering the kind of places he had to spend his days while he was on the run. The thought of entering your room, your personal and safe sanctuary, has him a bit excited. Would it be like one of those pink girly rooms full of plushies and cute stuff? For sure he’d love to fuck your brains out while you clinged to your plushie for dear life.
A few seconds passed and you heard nothing but silence. You thought Dabi would be throwing comments here and there once he entered your room.
Then you remembered.
As embarrassment crept up your face, you left the kitchen and headed to your room. Dabi was standing there, his eyes focused on that certain Endeavor poster you had put in your wall.
“Um..okay this is awkward” you scratched your neck, laughing nervously. You didn’t talk much of your interests or your idols to other people, preferring to keep them to yourself.
“Yeah that’s Endeavor, he’s actually my favorite hero, he is really strong and inspiring. I’m a big fan of his, sometimes I like buying his merch and stuff..”
Dabi remained quiet, not saying anything in return. His silence was making you worry. His eyes shifted towards an Endeavor plushie you kept near your bed. His hands were itching, he flexed his jaw and turned towards you. He had a dark look in his eyes, the smile on your face faded quickly and suddenly you felt scared. You’ve never seen him look this way, giving you such cold scary gaze.
“A fan huh?” Dabi chuckled darkly, but there was nothing funny about this situation. He felt nothing but anger, the moment he noticed those posters hanging in your walls, that heinous face, standing all mighty and proud, he saw red. Who would’ve thought, the only girl he actually had interest in, was his daddy’s biggest fan?
Dread settled in your gut as you looked back at him, you couldn’t recognise him at all. That Dabi who was always so flirty and kind to you, was nowhere to be seen.
“Is there something wrong? You’re acting weird..” you mumbled, backing away from him.
“Why are ya steppin’ back doll?” he says threateningly, coming closer to you. “C’mere, tell me more about this obsession of yours, like the big loyal fan you seem to be”
He puts his charred hand on the poster, activating his quirk and setting it ablaze.
“What are you doing?!” you gasp in shock, scared of the possibility that your room would end up in flames. Without thinking twice, you head quickly for the door, the situation clearly unsafe.
“You are not going anywhere.”
With a firm grip on your arm, Dabi forcefully pulled you back, throwing you to the ground. You let out a loud yelp in pain, while he went and locked your door.
“Stop it!! Dabi let m-”
Interrupting your whining, Dabi pulled you by your hair, making you face him. A psychotic sinister grin formed on his face, one that sent shivers down your spine, a grin that made you doubt he was even human.
“You fucking piece of trash..” he said through gritted teeth. “How low could you be, really? Endeavor?!”
By now tears were rolling down your cheeks, his sudden change of behaviour not only scared you to death, but also confused you.
“Dabi please- I don’t understand!!” you whined. “P-Please stop and let’s talk! I- I don’t-”
“Shut that filthy mouth of yours.” he spoke sternly, pulling your hair even harder and then throwing you to the bed. You had no time to crawl away from him, he was on top of you in mere seconds, overpowering you and suffocating you.
“Tell me, do you really think that precious hero of yours would even bother to come save you from someone like me right now? Let me tell you somethin’ funny doll…” he cackled, pulling your shirt and tearing it apart. Then his other hand tugged at your pants, the flames on his fingers burning them slowly. You screamed in terror as heat enveloped your body. Those azure flames of his were pretty, you’d always stare in awe as he lit up his cigarette. But right now that was not the case. They were terrifying, scorching hot, you thought he’d burn you alive. But Dabi controlled them just enough that only your clothes would burn, he had other plans in mind.
“A man like him would surely spit on your corpse if it benefited him the pedestal where he stands today.” Dabi whispered, his face inches away from yours. “Just like he’s always done. But you’re a naive little one aren’t cha? You believe anything the TV shows you right? Fuckin’ pathetic..”
As you stared back at him, eyes full of tears while trying to cover your naked body, Dabi had the strongest urge to hurt you. Real bad. Mostly for the fact that you, who Dabi considered his the moment he laid his eyes on you, was idolising the one person Dabi had sworn to take revenge on. The one person who Dabi dedicated the rest of his life, at the beginning to make him proud, and now to just shatter him completely. The same man who ruined his life, whose face was now printed on a poster hanging on your wall, who you apparently considered strong and inspiring, a true hero.
Dabi wanted to laugh. Dabi wanted to scream. He wanted to set this whole place ablaze with you in it, hear your screams of agony like every lowlife he’s killed so far.
“Y’know, it’s been a goal of mine to destroy him” Dabi says, pinning your hands, now your body bare for him to see. “But something that will feel good too is destroying his biggest fans, show them that their favorite hero won’t come save them when they’re in the hands of the villains. Show them what kind of people they idolise, show them how truly pathetic they are, right doll?”
You shake your head, now bursting into tears as he held you down, his body almost crushing you. The word ‘villain’ had you hyperventilating, shaking in fear.
Was Dabi a villain?
“P-please I’m sorry! I don’t know w-what is going on..let me go! Dabi stop!”
“Too late.”
As if your body weighted nothing, Dabi carried you and turned you around so you were laying on your stomach. With one hand he pushed your head further into the pillows, with the other he forcefully brought your hips up, bending you over and almost breaking your back. Your muffled whines and cries fed him even more with the desire to ruin you and hurt you. Heating up his hand, he gave your ass a harsh slap, making you flinch and move forward, screaming in pain.
“That’s gonna leave a nasty scar” he chuckled, looking at the reddened flesh, slowly bruising. “Y’see how his flames feel like, slut? You want more?” he gave your other asscheek a slap too, this time worse than the first one. Your cries and begging fell on deaf ears as he kept smacking your ass over and over again, the heat and pain on your lower back making you feel almost paralysed. With one final grab of your ass, he admired his work on you, but that wasn’t enough.
You were nearly having a panic attack, but Dabi couldn’t care less as he unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants, letting out his now hardened cock, the tip leaking precum and begging to be stuffed on your tight pussy.
“Let’s see how long will it take for your favorite hero to show up hm?” he said, pulling you harshly by your hair and looking at your sobbing face. The look in his eyes was manic, his grin wide and terrifying, you saw nothing but a monster.
“Another soul ruined. Because of him people like me exist dollface. Never forget that.”
“D-Dabi no!!!”
Without any preparation at all, the tip of his cock pushed further between your folds, stretching you open and invading you from the inside. Your mouth fell open but no sound came out, the pain of the burning stretch left you breathless. He slammed his hips hard against you, burying himself to the brim and letting out a low groan.
“F-Fuuuck, so tight f’me” he whispered, leaning closer to your face to lick off the tears rolling down your cheek. “Tell me princess, you ever thought of that scum fucking ya like this hm? You probably have, touching yourself as you looked at his poster. His biggest fan yeah? Fucking disgusting!” Dabi laughed, looking at your reddened face as he humiliated you further.
“But now, you get his hellspawn instead. Ain’t that just wonderful?”
Setting up the pace, Dabi fucked you roughly, slamming his hips into you faster and harder, not leaving you any time to get used to his length at all. The unbearable pain had your legs shaking and your body falling down, unable to keep up with all of this. But he held you near himself, bending you over and keeping your hips in place, huffing and groaning in your ear like a wild hungry animal as he took everything from you. His hand would heat up from time to time, leaving bruises on your hips and back, painting your body with his marks and bites while his teeth sunk on your shoulders. Your choked whines and crying mixed with the creaking of the bed and his groans filled your room, and you wished for everything to end. For this suffering to end.
“Y’wanna hold on to this as I fuck this cunt into oblivion, little bitch?” he cackled, grabbing your Endeavor plushie and throwing it to your face. “Let the hero scum know how much you love villain cock filling you to the brim yeah?”
“P-please stop it! Dabi.. I-I beg you.. it hurtsss!”
“Nngh good- as it fucking should!” he moaned, his eyes almost crossed from how good your cunt felt wrapped around his cock, milking him dry. He fucked you deeply, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix and making your legs tremble. You could feel him twitching inside of you, a sign that he was close to cumming.
“Mmhm fuck- Y’know.. what would probably make the old man happy?” To continue the bloodline” he grinned. “We have the honour, dollface. M’gonna breed you real nice- fuck- and have some other brats running around, making his life hell. Amazing, yeah?”
You didn’t know what sick twisted things went through his mind, nor had you any idea what was even going on as he continued rambling while fucking you ruthlessly. You panicked at the thought of him coming inside of you, you tried your best to move away from him but no avail. Dabi kept you locked on his grasp, his hand wrapping around your neck while he reached his high, his movements now getting sloppy and his breathing heavier.
“N-not inside! Please, Dabi!” you whimpered.
“Shut up n’ take it, slut. F-fuck.. take it all!” With one final slam of his hips he came deep inside of you, painting your walls with his pearly white seed, filling you so much to the point it leaked out. You felt so full, so filthy and violated, so hurt.
A few seconds went by as Dabi sat there without moving, catching his breath while you tried to catch yours, still crying and sniffing. Your body ached terribly, but you sat there without moving or saying a word, making sure to not accidentally anger him further.
“One last thing.”
Dabi turned you around so you’re laying on your back, then taking his cock out and smearing it all over your tits, covering them with his cum. Then he handed you the Endeavor plushie.
“W-what are yo-”
“Shut up and hold it. This moment shall never be forgotten” he grinned, taking out his phone for a picture. There you were, laying down with your body all naked and bruised, tits smeared on villain cum while you held the hero plushie near yourself. His scarred hand reached to grab your neck, then he took the picture, humiliating you fruther.
“Very artistic, don’t cha think?” he chuckled, showing you the nasty picture of you he took. Your face heated up in embarrassment, tears forming in your eyes again.
“M’gonna keep it for myself, but who knows. Maybe I will make it public, show those hero fans that they will never be safe from the villains.”
And with that, Dabi stood up, dressed himself up and prepared to leave your room, leaving you there, ruined.
“I will be back. Make sure to search my name on the internet, you’ll find some interesting stuff~” he smiled menacingly.
“You’ll soon be my biggest fan.”
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🏷️ tags: @scariusaquarius @holydayaria @bubblegumsblog @daniidil @arinexeisnotworking @cherryflavoredkisses @madsttx @syrenkitsune @cyberdazetragedy @dabislittlebeaniebaby
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chosaya · 6 months
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1-868-SPOOKTOBER FEST !
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you’ve reached 1-868-SPOOKTOBER HOTLINE! where ghouls and werewolves to vampire bats lurk, good luck! try your best to survive…
welcome to kinktober
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MURDEROUS MASQUERADE !
— demon toji x reader
synopsis : your invited to a halloween party but thing start getting unpleasant when your friends starts disappearing one by one?
kinks: overstim, bondage, semi public sex.
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BLOOD HUNT !
— vampire geto x bounty hunter reader!
synopsis : your hired to get rid of a vampire terrorizing the streets, Geto was cursed many years ago forcing him to become a vampire for eternity..
kinks: mild(blood play), fingering, etc.
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THE NEIGHBORHOOD STRIKER !
— ghostface dabi x neighbor! reader
synopsis: uh oh! your neighbor has been acting weird lately, you suspect him as the masked killer known as ghostface?
kinks: manhandling, pussy eating, fingering, etc, voyerism.
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THE UNINTENTIONAL PACT !
— incubus choso x reader x incubus toji
synopsis: you accidentally summon two incubus now they won’t leave your home you tried everything to get rid of them which they tell you they only can leave if you fuck them?
Kinks : 3 some, manhandling, fingering, etc, pussy spanking.
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@kazushawty @hoshigray @ryukenzz @zarihaaa @vampress7 @omgeto @hqkalon @luvfaries @littlemochabunni @suguruplsr @dprkento @marimogf @dgrymn
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inkykeiji · 2 months
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what now?
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character: dabi | todoroki touya
genre: smut + angst
notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking
words: 8.8k
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It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.
Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.
You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side. 
Yet. 
It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you. 
“Touya.” 
He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons. 
It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.
“Hmm?”
“That’s my real name. Touya.”
“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”
“Todoroki Touya.”
Oh.  
“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”
“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”
And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on. 
He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you. 
But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.
The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame. 
Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.
He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.
He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer. 
The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.
You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips. 
“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.
“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”
“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”
Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.
“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!” 
Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.
“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!” 
“Shouto?”
“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.” 
His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling. 
“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”
“Oh, I can only imagine…” 
…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.
“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!” 
“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull. 
“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”
Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors. 
And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.  
“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”
“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”
You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.
He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him. 
And your heart sinks.
New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye. 
“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.” 
“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.
“And you’re hurt.”
He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!” 
“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”
“But it isn’t even painful.”
“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.” 
Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.
Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech. 
And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute. 
He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.
And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.
What now?
It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten. 
What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process? 
Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?
Does Dabi even care? Does Touya? 
You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him. 
You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly. 
You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times. 
You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man. 
 So what now?
“He tried to cool me down.”
The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw. 
“What?”
“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.” 
His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder. 
The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.
“During the fight?” 
His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once. 
“I was overheating, and he…” 
Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.
“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours. 
Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice. 
Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.
“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”
It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—
“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”
Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.
“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”
“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.” 
You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…
What now?
It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat. 
Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.
You refuse to steal this moment from him.
“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”
It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.
Always for him.
And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.
Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.
“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?” 
The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face. 
“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?” 
“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.” 
Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin. 
“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”
“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”
“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.” 
His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever. 
It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you. 
Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.
You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it. 
You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.
But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.
Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much. 
He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine. 
“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.” 
Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face. 
The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh. 
The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up. 
Sicko. 
His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.
Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.
His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams. 
Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.” 
A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth. 
He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin. 
His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.
Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt. 
It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.
You need more.
“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction. 
“Uh-huh?”
“Touya.”
“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?” 
Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.
“You want something? Huh?” 
Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think? 
“You know.���
He does, of course he does. 
But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.
“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.” 
Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.
Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny. 
“W-Want your cock.”
His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring. 
“That’s not asking, sweetheart.” 
Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.
“Can I please have your cock? Please?” 
“Please what?”
And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.
An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action. 
He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.
As expected.
“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”
Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.
“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”
“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”
Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.
The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full. 
And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.
“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” 
“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.” 
“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”
“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”
A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.
“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?” 
“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips. 
Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.
“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?” 
The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him? 
The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.
“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!” 
Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.
Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.
“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”
God, you hope not. 
“Please, please—” 
And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar. 
Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.
But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.
“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”
Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips. 
Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.
It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything. 
“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”
A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs. 
“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.” 
And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him. 
And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.
It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.
Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.
“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”
He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.
Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.
It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.
“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul. 
Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable. 
“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”  
“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.
“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.” 
“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”
“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”
Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues. 
“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.” 
“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!” 
The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.
“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”
Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.
You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock. 
“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.” 
A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.
“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”
“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!” 
“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.” 
Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue. 
His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat
It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!
“Gonna—gonna—!” 
A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls. 
“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?” 
Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues. 
“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.” 
“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”
“Yeah? Yeah?” 
His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly! 
Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat. 
“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?” 
He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue. 
“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples. 
He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction. 
Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you. 
“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!” 
The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords. 
“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?” 
“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”
“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.” 
Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.
The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact. 
He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails. 
No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit. 
Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.
You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw  by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling. 
“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively. 
“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?” 
“I always do, don’t I?” 
And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.
Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.
“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”
The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone. 
He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking. 
Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips. 
“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.” 
In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.
You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin. 
Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.
His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt. 
Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more. 
So cute. 
Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips. 
It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.
Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole. 
It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal. 
A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis. 
“Fuck, f-fuck—” 
His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.
Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch. 
Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever. 
The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name. 
But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm. 
“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”
“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum. 
“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!” 
A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.
“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!” 
And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix. 
He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs. 
You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one. 
Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs. 
“What now?”
You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.
What now? 
They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin. 
His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.
What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?
What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?
“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.” 
You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob. 
“The dream, huh?” 
“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.” 
A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.
“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.
He does.
You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude. 
You know.
But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.
You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.
And you hug him tighter. 
You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him. 
529 notes · View notes
doumadono · 3 months
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Warnings: smut w/o plot, cunningulus, f!reader, squirting, fingering, alcohol use, voyeurism Synopsis: after the war, you and Shigaraki spend time together while the rest of the League prepares for the final mission. Excessive drinking leads to a moment of intimacy between you and Shigaraki, with him tasting your cunt for the first time. Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend Touya unexpectedly returns early and witnesses the scene A/N: this piece was commissioned on my Ko-fi page by my beloved @shonen-brainrot - I'm sharing this fic with her consent. Thank you for commissioning me, baby! I hope you enjoy it! Friendly reminder to everyone else: my writing commissions are open :)
MASTERLIST KO-FI COMISSIONS: OPEN
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You spent a mere three months as a member of the League of Villains, yet during that brief period, you actively contributed to planning the Paranormal Liberation War. Despite the apparent "loss," you understood that, among other things, you achieved a strategic victory. After exiting the stage with Tomura and his other allies, you needed to keep a low profile, and so you did. Leveraging your quirk, Speed Recovery, you became a highly valuable asset to Shigaraki, aiding in the recovery of his injured allies.
Amid this intense three months period, you cultivated an unexpected understanding with the most enigmatic figure in the organization — Dabi. Astonishingly, he turned out to be the long-lost son of the Number One hero, Endeavor. Before you fully grasped it, you found yourself low-key "dating" - an understated term for the intensity of the connection. It encompassed spending endless hours together, engaging in profound conversations, and gradually closing the physical distance between you two.
Yet, an undercurrent of unease lingered as you sensed Tomura's discontent. Was he possibly envious of someone as seemingly ordinary as yourself? The uncertainty hung in the air, casting a shadow over the dynamics within the group.
You devoted considerable time meticulously plotting the retribution, even as you witnessed Tomura's growing anger and frustration. Reassuring him, you affirmed the intricacy of his plans, confidently asserting that soon you would unveil a lesson for the heroes, showing them their rightful place.
After the devastating War, Tomura visibly bore the weight of stress, engrossed in devising his next set of plans.
One evening, while the others were away preparing for the final mission, you and Tomura remained at the hideout, sipping from a shared bottle of vodka. The conversation delved into the details of the plan and the sacrifices it would inevitably demand.
Tomura took a sip, his crimson eyes fixed on you. "This mission will change everything. Sacrifices are inevitable."
You nodded, the weight of the responsibility settling in. "Yeah, but it's necessary. For a better future."
He smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "A better future, huh? How optimistic."
You chuckled, recognizing his penchant for cynicism. "Well, not everyone can be as optimistic as you, Tomura."
He leaned back, fingers tapping against the bottle. "Optimism won't save us. Practicality will."
You smirked, appreciating the contrast in your perspectives. "Practicality and a bit of optimism won't hurt."
Tomura scoffed, taking another sip. "You're incorrigible."
You raised an eyebrow. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."
He chuckled, the corners of his lips curling into a rare smile. "Maybe. But let's not get too sentimental. We have work to do."
As the night wore on, the shared bottle of vodka dwindled, leaving both you and Tomura with a growing sense of intoxication.
"Thanks for the refill," you slurred appreciatively, the alcohol already making its presence felt.
Tomura, seemingly affected by the spirits as well, mused, "Can't believe Dabi didn't teach you how to drink."
You chuckled, the room swaying slightly. "Guess he missed that lesson."
With a nonchalant shrug, Tomura rose, tossing the empty bottle effortlessly into the trash bin. He went to a nearby cabinet, retrieving another bottle of alcohol and two fresh glasses.
You protested, waving your hands, but he poured you another drink, raising an eyebrow. "How are things between you and our lovely Todoroki, by the way?"
The question struck a chord, and you frowned, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the sudden turn into personal territory. "Well, you know, complicated," you replied evasively, taking a sip to buy some time.
Tomura leaned back, swirling his drink, his gaze fixed on you. "Complicated, huh? Must be quite a story."
You sighed, the alcohol loosening your tongue. "Yeah, it is. But we manage."
He nodded, taking a thoughtful sip. "Managing is something, I guess."
You attempted to shift the conversation away from your relationship with Dabi, bringing up other topics, but Tomura proved relentless. With a cocky grin, he circled back to Dabi, probing for more details.
"Come on, spill it. I want to hear the juicy bits," he taunted, swirling his drink with an unsettling confidence.
Sighing, you relented a little. "It's not that interesting, Tomura. Just the usual ups and downs. Nothing to discuss."
He leaned in, a dark glint in his eyes. "Ups and downs, huh? Sounds like there's more to it."
You rolled your eyes, realizing that steering the conversation away from Dabi was an uphill battle. "Can we talk about something else, Tomura? There's a whole world out there."
He chuckled, his laughter carrying a sinister undertone. "The world can wait."
As the night wore on, Tomura's questions became more probing, his tone growing darker and more insistent. He seemed to revel in the discomfort he caused, savoring every tidbit you reluctantly shared about your tumultuous relationship. Tomura got up, the creaking floorboards announcing his movement as he paced around the room. He cast a sly glance in your direction, the dim light highlighting the eerie grin on his face. "You know," he began, still walking, "I always suspected there was more to Dabi. But Endeavor's son? Now, that's interesting."
You shifted uncomfortably, eyeing him as he continued to circle the room. "Yeah, surprising, right?"
He chuckled, a sinister edge to his voice. "Perfect, actually. Vengeance is a powerful motivator. It'll make him even more useful for our cause."
Tomura took a place beside you on a worn-out couch, his arm casually wrapping around your shoulders. He poured another drink, his dark eyes never leaving yours.
You gave a weak smile, feeling a little uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. The tension heightened as his arm tightened around your shoulders, and he handed you the freshly poured drink.
"To unexpected alliances," he proposed, raising his glass.
You clinked yours against his, the liquid burning down your throat, the room spinning with a mix of alcohol and Tomura's ominous presence.
As Tomura poured another round, he seemed undeterred by the growing level of intoxication. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol.
In the midst of another casual conversation, Tomura, with an unsettling nonchalance, steered the dialogue back to Dabi. "Did he fuck you already?" he inquired abruptly, his tone cutting through the drunken haze that surrounded you.
Your cheeks flushed, and you visibly squirmed in discomfort at the unexpected and personal nature of the question. "It's none… None of your… Bussiness, Tomura," you hiccuped.
"Come on now, spill it. Did he or didn't he?" he pressed, a mocking grin playing on his lips.
You sighed, feeling the weight of the question. "Tomura, that's really none of your business…"
Tomura's grin widened, and he leaned back, seemingly pleased with your discomfort. "Sounds like a yes to me. Dabi's got taste, I'll give him that. Was he a gentleman, delicately tending to your needs, or more like a dog in heat, just claiming what's his?"
Your face burned hotter as you bit your lower lip, desperately downing the glass of vodka, and quickly covering your mouth after. "Something in between," you mumbled, your words slightly slurred.
Shigaraki chuckled darkly, throwing his head back. "Mmmm, I see. What a pity then. You deserve to be taken care of, baby. Such a little, pretty villain," he reached his gloved hand out and touched your cheek. The gloved touch sent shivers down your spine. "Did he eat your pussy?"
The nausea welled up inside you, and all you wanted was to escape to your tiny room and lie down. You nodded, managing a weak, "Yes," hoping it would satisfy Shigaraki and put an end to the uncomfortably intimate interrogation.
Tomura grinned, placing his glass on a tiny coffee table. He simply leaned in, crushing his lips onto yours without seeking your consent.
In your intoxicated state, attempts to push him away were feeble. His lips bore the flavor of vodka, but strangely, you found yourself not entirely opposed to the unexpected kiss. A part of you didn't mind what was happening at all, so you casually moved your lips against his in a dance influenced by the haze of alcohol.
Before you could fully comprehend the situation, his gloved hand, adorned with only two fingers covered by a black leather, slipped between your thighs and beneath the plain skirt you wore. His touch started at your thigh, skillfully massaging the soft flesh, while slowly ascending.
A gasp escaped your lips as a strange warmth began to build within your abdomen. You cursed yourself for reacting this way to your boss. You shouldn't be feeling like this; after all, you had a boyfriend. What would he think if he knew how Shigaraki's touch was affecting you? You blamed the intoxication for clouding your mind, and even if you desired to push Shigaraki away, you felt powerless; your hands seemed to weigh a ton.
Gloved fingers teased you through your panties, eliciting a gasp that escaped past your parted lips. You bit down on your lower lip, the sensations proving intoxicating, clouding the last remaining rationally-thinking parts of your brain.
As your head lolled back, resting against the back of the couch, Shigaraki licked the column of your neck. "Shhh, shhhh, it's okay. Ain't gonna hurt ya, sweetie. I just wanna make you feel good, like Dabi never did, I bet."
Shigaraki pushed the fabric of your panties aside, his touch careful as he rubbed against your folds, discovering they were already slick with your excitement. He grinned, licking his lips. "Look at you," he chuckled, hiccuping a little. "Mmm, already so wet for your boss. That's the attitude I like."
Shigaraki rose from the couch, a hiss escaping him as his pants grew uncomfortable, his dick tenting the fabric. He knelt down, parting your thighs, and took hold of the sides of your panties, skillfully tugging them down your legs until they were off completely. Bringing the garment to his nose, he sniffed it like a wild animal, licking the damp spot on the material and growling in anticipation. "Fuck," he muttered, his other hand palming himself through the fabric of his pants.
As the man licked a stripe along your slick folds, a loud whine escaped your lips, and you leaned back fully against the couch. Slowly, you brought your hand to your mouth, covering it as if to prevent all the moans from escaping. It felt so wrong, yet oh so right at the same time.
Shigaraki closed his lips around your clitoris, fervently sucking the swollen bud into his mouth. This left you writhing beneath him, moaning like a cheap whore you apparently were at that moment. His bare fingers, devoid of glove, expertly rubbed your entrance as Shigaraki continued to lap at your slick folds. The obscene noises he made filled the air, his head shaking left to right to increase the friction you sought with every roll of your hips, each movement trying to push your cunny further into his face.
"O-Oh, God…" you whimpered.
Shigaraki chuckled slightly before slipping his tongue into your entrance. It was the moment you arched your back, sliding one of your hands into his white hair, tugging it to bring his face and mouth closer to your heated core.
He skillfully fucked you with his tongue, his gloved fingers simultaneously massaging your clitoris, causing your wetness to spill all over his eager tongue. "Mhmmm," he grunted, still palming himself through his pants.
Lost in the throes of passion, neither of you heard the door opening. Little did you know that the rest of the League had returned to the hideout.
Dabi stood in the doorway leading to Shigaraki's office, his turquoise eyes wide open as he witnessed the scene unfolding before him — his boss, someone he had once considered a friend at some point, and his girl, getting laid.
Meanwhile, Shigaraki resumed lapping at your entrance, growling like an animal at your scent and taste. In contrast, you were already a moaning mess.
"I fucking love your little cunt," Shigaraki declared, kissing your swollen clitoris before returning to licking your dripping hole.
Dabi felt anger and jealousy building up within him, but he also sensed some primal desire. Casually closing the door, he walked over to the two of you, nonchalantly dipping down next to you on the couch. "Well, well, I see you two are having some fun, huh?" he growled.
It was then that you snapped your eyes open, instantly attempting to push Shigaraki off your pussy.
However, your boss simply looked at Dabi lazily, and after kissing your cunt, he straightened up, wiping his lips from your juices glistening there with the top of his palm. "Todoroki, you're back already."
Dabi scoffed. "What do you fucking think you're doing, Tomura?" Dabi growled, igniting a little blue flame on his left palm while his right one rested possessively on your knee.
"And what does it look like? I'm eating her cunny out," Shigaraki replied, a wry grin on his lips.
"She's fucking mine, and you're fucking aware of that," Dabi reminded.
Shigaraki chuckled darkly, waving his hand. "Oh, don't be such a dog in the manger. I didn't fuck her, yeah? Just licked her tiny cunt. That's not a fucking crime, is it?"
Dabi breathed angrily through his nose. "I can see you got fucking turned on just by her taste," he scoffed, glancing at the tent in Tomura's pants.
Shigaraki unselfconsciously palmed his dick, tilting his head to the side. "Can you blame me? Look at her, such a little naughty villainess we have here. And her taste is intoxicating."
Dabi scoffed again. "Imagine that I know, as I've fucked her many times already."
Tomura ran his bare fingers up and down your cunt. "Don't be angry at her, it's my fault. We got a little too wasted, and I kind of couldn't stop myself when I smelled her wetness," Shigaraki explained, pointing his chin at the coffee table and the empty bottle of alcohol and glasses.
Dabi shook his head in disapproval and reached his hand out, catching your chin between his index finger and thumb, tilting it so you faced him. "You're such a naughty whore, getting wet for him? Pathetic."
Your cheeks were still flushed. "S-sorry, Touya…" you whined pathetically.
Dabi looked into your half-opened eyes. He couldn't deny the twitch in his pants as he saw you so vulnerable and exposed. The idea of letting some other guy fuck you while he watched had always lingered in the dark corners of his twisted mind. Now, the opportunity presented itself. "You liked him licking your cunt, hmm?"
You bit at your knuckle, slowly nodding your head for yes.
Dabi sighed. "Fine. Make my girl cum," the scarred man ordered, looking at Shigaraki. "But don't you fucking dare to put your fucking, pathetic cock into her. That's exclusively mine privilege."
Shigaraki cocked his eyebrows, "Who do you think you are to boss me around, Dabi?"
Touya grinned nastily. "Seriously? Your cock already makes a damp spot in your pants, man. I know you want her. So give her what she wants. Make her fucking cum. Let her decide which one of us eats her pussy better. I'm sure she's gonna choose me."
"T-Touya, I.." you started, but your boyfriend placed his fingers on your lips, sealing them.
"Shut up and spread your legs wider like the good whore you are," he instructed.
You nodded hesitantly, following his words.
Shigaraki grunted, seeing your pussy spreading open just for him. He instantly dived between your legs, lapping at your folds again, making slurping noises and eating your cunt so intensely that the base of his nose nudged your swollen clitoris, making you whine.
Dabi watched the scene with a stoic expression attached to his scarred face. He reached one of his hands around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him so you rested your side against his chest. His other hand grabbed the hem of your skirt, hoisting it up your hips to provide himself with a better view of your drenched cunt and Shigaraki diving between your legs.
"You're such a needy whore," Dabi whispered into your ear, moving the arm he had wrapped around your shoulders to unbutton your shirt and fish out one of your breasts from the cup of your bra, fondling it gently. "So fucking wet. Look at the mess you made on this bastard's face."
You were whining, resting one elbow on Dabi's lap, moaning even louder as you felt his hardened cock making a bulge in his jeans.
Shigaraki slipped his gloved fingers into your cunt, massaging your inner walls.
Dabi grasped your chin and tilted your head, sloppily kissing your lips. Your tongues danced together.
Shigaraki spat down on your pussy, spreading his saliva all over your folds with his thumb. After that, he returned to sucking your clitoris while finger-fucking you.
You moaned in Dabi's mouth, breaking the kiss to bite your knuckle again as your thighs trembled after Tomura hit that super-sensitive, spongy spot deep within you. "Fuck…" you whispered, your eyes watering. "Holy shit."
Dabi chuckled darkly. "That's it, doll, let it go. Cum. I know you want to cum."
"Yes, d-daddy," you moaned and reached both hands to slip them in Tomura's messy hair, bringing his face closer to your dripping cunt to ride your orgasm all over his tongue and lips.
"Don't you fucking dare to stop licking her cunt. Stick your ugly tonuge out," Dabi instructed, and to his surprise, Shigaraki obeyed.
You grinded your pussy against you boss' flexed tongue, moaning louder and louder until your pussy clenched around his fingers, leaving you trembling all over your body, moaning and panting.
Of course, Dabi decided it was not enough, so he reached his hand down your body to gently rub your clitoris, only to spank it with his heated up fingers a few times.
You bucked your hips more until you squirted all over Shigaraki's face, moaning both their names as if it was the last prayer of your life; your runny juices covered your boss' chin, nose and lips, dripping down his cheek to his chest.
Shigaraki also panted and groaned, the damp stain on his crotch expanding, signaling he just came, too.
Dabi kissed your cheek, glancing down at Shigaraki. "Look at you, boss, getting so turned on by a mere woman. That's surprising," he rose from the couch, adjusting his hardened dick in his pants. "Now excuse me, I'm taking my girlfriend to my room so I can fuck her the way she likes the most," Todoroki easily scooped you up in his arms. "Oh, and thanks for preparing her for me. I appreciate that a lot."
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coffeerecords · 1 year
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NOT PRETTY | dabi.
➾ in which he learns and admits that he is a pretty boy
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wordcount: 3k+ | genre: fluff, comfort, smut, tinge of angst | pairing: dabi x fem!reader | rating: 18+ | tw: swear words, insecurities, explicit sex (oral m receiving, riding, aftercare <3) | others: soft!dabi bc im a sucker for him, DABI IS A PRETTY BOY !!!!!!!
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In all his years as a villain, people call him lots of names; Asshole, Shitface, Ugly—the list goes on. Dabi has grown indifferent to those names. He had already accepted his current appearance since there was nothing he could do about it. Plus, he truly looked like a villain what else could he ask for? He is a villain—people fear him, people run away from him, and no one wants anything to do with him.
It’s evident in how the crowd disperses the moment he steps into the club. Their eyes grow weary and cautious despite they are all villains, working under the Liberation Front in different divisions. He supposed it’s also the fact that he’s one of the co-commanders. But he couldn’t care less as he makes a beeline towards the sitting figure at the bar.
“You’re here.” The voice he has been waiting to hear all day greets him.
Dabi leans against the counter beside you, elbows supporting him on the oak surface as he faces the opposite of where you’re facing. “Mhmm, you said to pick you up at one.”
“Thought you weren’t listening,” you turn to him, half-lidded gaze filled with a mix of emotions he can’t identify—sending him to instinctively swallow a lump down his throat.
He looks away from you, setting his eyes elsewhere. “You’d yell my ears off.”
You chuckle, climbing down the chair after finishing your drink. Without so much thought, you fix the skirt of your dress and such simple action fixates Dabi.
Fuck, you truly look absolutely gorgeous in that little black dress.
“Let’s go,” you chime, grabbing your clutch in one hand and the other linking your arm around his.
Dabi raises a brow. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Uh, dragging us out of here?”
“I should be the one dragging you. Thought you’ll end up wasted tonight.”
A bitter laugh passes your lips. “I thought so too. But, alas, things aren’t going just as I—” You stop midway, glancing at something—well, people around you before clearing your throat. “—hoped.”
Dabi hums in acknowledgement, walking alongside you as you both step out of the bar and head towards your place.
You’ve become very quiet along the way. Moments like this happen whenever you’re deep in thought. Dabi has no idea what’s gotten you so worked up about, but he knows it’s not nothing. Working with you has thought him that he shouldn’t pry no matter how much he wants to know what’s bothering you. If you want him to know, you’ll let him know.
Without much thought, Dabi’s steps falter momentarily. “You cold?”
“Huh?” You respond almost absentmindedly. “Oh, no… I’m not—” As if on cue, there’s a strong gush of wind, causing you to shiver. “I mean yes—”
Dabi merely snorts and unlinks your arm before tugging off his coat and having you wear them instead. “There. All warm and cozy.”
You roll your eyes at him while tugging his coat tighter around your frame. “Thanks for your service.”
“My pleasure, doll.” He reaches for your hand and interlaces your fingers together. “Tell me if you’re still cold.”
Dabi will never admit this but as you continue to walk back to your place, he keeps glancing at you as if to observe your mood. But a smile slowly makes its way to his face when there’s now a small smile on your visage.
When you both reach your place, you let out a deep sigh and the disturbed look in your eyes returns. “Why…?”
“Hmm?” Dabi questions, taking off his boots and switching with a pair of home slippers you’ve provided for him. He turns to look at you with a raised brow.
“Why did those people look at you like… like—“
Ah... He knows where this is going...
“Like I’m disgusting?” Dabi mentions bluntly. “‘Cause I am. Can’t ya see how burnt I look?” He chuckles almost too lightheartedly, stepping into your living room and making himself home. He plops himself on the couch and throws his head back against it with his arms spread and eyes closed.
You remain quiet near the entrance, aside from some clicking and shuffling noises as you take off your heels and wear your slippers. Then your shuffling stops, followed by a small thud on the coffee table.
The room goes extremely quiet.
You’d usually head towards your room to wash up immediately after a long night, but when Dabi peers his eyes open, his gaze widens as you stand right between his legs. Gazing down at him with an unreadable expression.
“What?” Dabi drawls with a lopsided grin. An ugly feeling unfurled in his chest, are you pitying him now?
Anger sparks in your gaze as you cross your arms across your chest. “Don’t call yourself disgusting.”
“Huh? It’s true though. I’ve long accepted I looked ugly and—” You clamp his mouth shut. To say that he’s surprised would be an understatement to what you do next.
Without a word, you climb on his lap and lean close to his face.
“Only nobodies can say those bullshit because they know that they can never compare to you. So, you need to shut up, pretty boy.”
Stunned, the words on the tip of his tongue diminish. He stares at you wide-eyed for a moment before he takes your hand away from his mouth.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He looks away from you. “And don’t call me that.”
A smirk curls up on the corner of your lips. “Why not?”
“I’m…” He’s not pretty. No one uses that word to describe him. “You’re drunk.”
You shake your head. “Not really. Just a lil buzzed. Can talk and think without a hitch.”
Dabi almost grabs you by the waist and hauls you to your bed. You need a timeout. You’re talking absolute bull—
Your arms wrap around his neck as you settle yourself higher, right on his crotch.
“Pretty boy~” You giggle, hooking a finger under his chin to make him face you again.
“Y-You’re drunk.” His heart thunders against his stitched chest, blood rushing to his cheeks and… south.
“Dabi, I am not,” you reply back, pressing yourself to him. “But if you want to stop, then tell me to stop.”
He remains silent as you patiently wait.
“C’mon, pretty boy. I need to hear what you want.” His breath hitches as you gently trace a finger up his jawline and the staples that litter across his cheeks.
Shit, as if you needed to ask what he wants. He knows you know that he wants you.
“Mhmm…” You hum, hips subtly grinding. “Can feel your body’s already reacting, baby.”
Dabi’s facade crumbles bit by bit. Hands itching just to touch you, map your body into his memory. His breath turns shaky when you softly place a kiss on his forehead, his nose, and his heated cheeks. You’re closing in on his lips and Dabi’s eyes flutter shut instinctively.
Your lips are merely a millimetre away from his. Your voice reduces into a seductive whisper in his ears, “My pretty boy…”
“Am not—” An involuntary groan passes his lips when you purposefully tug your skirt up your hips, giving him a clear view of your lace panties, cutting him off.
“Wanna say that again?”
Dabi exhales a sharp breath.
Your scent is intoxicating, feeling up his senses as his usual clear mind blurs. All he could focus on is your luscious lips and the way you press yourself against him. He should have more self-control than this… He should be the one flirting, throwing his lines to rile you up… But… But—
You clutch his shoulder, leaving kisses up his jaw, “Wanna kiss you till we’re both out of breath… Wanna show you how beautiful you are…”
The thread that bears the semblance of his self-control snaps as he cups your face. “Doll, you’re killing me.”
Without another word, Dabi presses a hard kiss on your lips. You kiss him back, equally fervent.
Your hands tug at his shirt, dropping them to the floor before his coat on you and your dress follows. Dabi nearly lost his whole sanity at the sight of you in a pretty set. You shudder as he presses his nose from your jaw to the crook of your neck, leaving kisses down its trail. With a sigh, you comb your fingers through his hair with your head tilted up. “Wanna feel all of you, pretty boy.”
Fuck. The things he’d do for you…
Dabi heeds your request, tugging off his jeans in record time after you climb off of him. He’s about to bring you back to his lap, but you step away from his reach and turn your back to him, striding to the bedroom. But not before casting him a glance, beckoning him to follow you. And he does—as if you’ve cast a spell on him and he follows your every command.
Dabi swallows a lump down his throat as you sit prettily across the bed, confidence exuding off of you. “Come here, handsome.”
He approaches you, climbing on the soft duvet. His body hovers over yours as you cup his face with a hand and claim his lips on yours. It’s a messy kiss—you suck his bottom lip as he grants you entry to meet his tongue with yours. When you pull away for air, you push his shoulder to have him sit on the bed while you straddle his waist. His hands trail up your thighs to your ass, kneading it.
“Wanna try something?”
“Hmm?” He stares at you with curiosity through his turquoise gaze.
“Keep your hands on the bed, baby. While I do whatever I want with you.”
It takes him a moment to register what you’re implying—giving you the reins. Usually, he’ll burn anyone who dares to take control of him.
But you and him…
He’d grown to trust you and how you could never hurt him intentionally. So, Dabi lets out a sharp breath and agrees nonetheless.
You place wet kisses down his throat, across his collarbones and chest, evoking soft moans and groans as you appreciate him. Gradually, you move south, kissing all his scars and burns even leaving a few marks on his skin to stake your claim on him before tugging his boxers off. His length springs free, leaking out precum. Dabi throws his head back as a groan escapes his lips while you wrap your hand around his pulsating length. “D-Doll—”
You merely him in response, giving it a few pumps before licking his tip. His hands form a fist on the blankets as he resists the urge to weave his fingers through your hair and fuck your throat. Without warning, your tongue swirls on his slit, switching between licking and sucking. His length twitches, balls aching for a release at your ministrations.
“F-Fuck…” Dabi breathes out, no longer holding up his upper body as he slumps against the pillows.
“Does it feel good?”
His face contorts beautifully. “Yes, so fucking much—”
You trace the vein on the underside of his cock with a thumb. “Only for the prettiest boy.”
“No, I’m not—” he denies vehemently.
There’s a raging storm of emotions inside Dabi, unfurling in his chest with each passing moment. He still finds it absurd that you found him ‘pretty’ because no one ever associates him with that word. ‘Monster’ is a more fitting word for him as people fear him the moment they see him, no matter when or where. But when you call him ‘pretty’, it throws him off the curb—confused and doubting and—
The continuous pleasure coursing through him stops instantly. No, not because he reached his high, it’s because you stopped touching him. Eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction with your arms crossed against your chest. Dabi huffs, meeting your gaze as he sits up. “What? Are you just going to leave me hanging?”
“Yes.”
He nearly spluttered at your blunt answer. “You’re serious…?”
You shift forward, plopping yourself right on his leaking hard-on. “Yes, Dabi. I’m actually insulted.”
Insulted?
Dabi hisses, hips involuntarily bucking to find whatever friction he can, but you stop him. “What did I do wrong now?” His voice was laced with impatience. “How did I offend you?”
“You’re insulting my taste,” you growl, pushing him down with your palm splayed on his chest.
If you weren’t so angry with him, Dabi might actually find this hot. But the expression you’re wearing isn’t a joke.
“Taste? As in…?”
“I find you really pretty, and yet you kept on denying that you’re not.” Your lips form a pout. “Are you not going to acknowledge it?”
Weighing between accepting your compliment or spending the rest of the night with blue balls when you’re looking this breathtaking — Dabi makes the right choice.
“Alright, I’m pretty,” he says without much thought. “There I said it, so will you please—”
You put a pointer finger on his lips. “Are you really?”
“I’m…” The pointed look on your face had him crumbling. No, he can’t say it again. Not when he can’t believe it.
You lean in close to him, lips barely touching his own. “Not gonna do anything to you until you believe it, baby.”
Dabi sometimes wonders if you can truly read his mind. He swears he’s so closed off that no one would be able to discern what he’s thinking about, but you—
“Dabi… I’m soaked…” your voice nearly comes out as a whimper. “I need you so badly—see?” You grab hold of his hand, letting his thick fingers feel your dripping entrance through your drenched panties. Dabi swears out loud as you guide his finger to rub across your covered folds. Despite his iron will working constantly — Dabi is still a guy. And seeing the girl of his dreams being so needy—
He leans up to touch your lips with his, and for a moment, you savour him. Then you pull away with his lips chasing after you. You gently cup his face, stopping him from claiming your lips again. “Say that you’re my pretty boy.”
Dabi can never really describe the scene in front of him. You look at him as if he hung the stars in the sky, waiting in anticipation of what he’s going to do next. No one has ever been this interested in him. As his heart and his mind are battling against each other—whether to succumb to well… feel good about himself.
“I’m… I’m… I’m your…” He stares at you hesitantly and mumbles, “…pretty boy…”
You purposefully busy yourself by unclasping your bra not hearing what he said. “What was that?”
Damn.
“I’m your pretty boy,” He states with conviction.
Your gaze brightens at his phrase, you waste no time grabbing a condom and rolling it on his hard length before slipping your panties aside and sinking down on him. Dabi bucks his hips when your walls clamp around his length, the pleasure shooting up his spine.
“Yours alone,” he groans out, hands flying to hold your waist.
With an appreciative hum, you kiss him deeply. His warm palms caress the skin below your breast before thumbing your nipples into stiff peaks. You sigh against him, “Yes, you are.” Soft moans and groans fill the room alongside the rhythmical sound of skin slapping. Dabi can feel himself reaching his climax once more. His thumb trails downward and finds your clit. His rough pad presses on it, rubbing circles. “Mhmm… You’re doing so good….” you whimper, back arching. “So good for me, pretty boy.”
Your thighs begin to ache, sweaty body quakes as you clamp down harder on him. “S-Shit, doll. ‘m not gonna last long—”
“Me too—”
Like a crashing wave, you both reach your highs simultaneously. Dabi keeps you grinding on him to ride out your highs as you slump forward chest-to-chest, utterly drained. Then silence blankets the room as Dabi lays on his back with you still on top of him, still connected. You bury your face in the crook of his neck while your hand caresses his hair to which he takes it and places a soft kiss before interlacing your fingers together.
“You okay?” Dabi questions softly.
“Mhmm…” you respond with a sleepy smile that he finds absolutely adorable. “My pretty boy.”
Dabi sighs with a smile on his face. “Yes, your pretty boy.”
You giggle, snuggling deeper (if that’s even possible) into the crook of his neck.
“Well, aren’t you a clingy one?”
“You love it.”
Dabi kisses your hair in response. “Are you feeling better now? You didn’t look happy back there in the bar.”
You stiffen for a moment before relaxing into him. “Yeah… You can tell?”
“‘Course… It’s you, after all. I’ve gained a sixth sense when it comes to you now.”
You laugh, lifting your upper body slightly from him just enough to meet his stare. Then your face grows sombre as you recall your earlier discovery. “Just find out that the broker had escaped to another country… I’m gonna have to give them a chase to get more information about….” You trail off.
Ah… Your mission. How can he forget? You aren’t part of the Liberation. You have your personal goals to achieve.
Dabi nods. “I understand.”
Silence.
“Are… Are you gonna leave…?” You sound small all of a sudden.
Dabi furrows his brows. “Do you want me to?”
“No, of course not! I always want you with me.…”
“Then I’m staying.”
“Staying…” you parroted his words, beautiful eyes widening. “You’ll stay with me even tomorrow?”
“Even tomorrow and the next day, and the next next day, week, month, year, whatever.”
There’s hope sparking in your eyes at his words. “You will stay….”
Dabi nods, affirming your words.
You grin. “Good, because I’m not letting you go anyway.”
“I think that’s supposed to be my line, doll.”
You shrug. “Makes no difference.”
Then you pull off of him to lay on his side. Dabi lets out a shaky breath at the sight of the mess you both made. “Fuck, we made a mess on your sheets.”
“We’ll clean it up in a bit,” you answer smoothly.
Dabi nearly refuses to do so. But he supposes you can’t really get a good night’s rest on dirty sheets. Plus, it won’t be the last time he’ll see this kinda mess…
“You’re drooling,” you point out.
Dabi chuckles before throwing the used condom into the trash and grabs a clean towel from your bathroom. He wipes off the remnants of your intimate session and strides to the bed where you are still laying.
“Spread those legs, baby.”
You raise a brow at him. “Up for another round?”
“No, you horndog. ‘m gonna clean you up.”
You giggle and acquiesce, taking off your soiled panties. Dabi stares at your glistening entrance for a moment, almost mesmerized. He almost entertains the thoughts of having his own cum leaking out of—
“Now, who’s the horndog?”
Dabi blinks, “S-Shut up.” He cleans you up and gently wipes off your sensitive area as you shudder.
A teasing smirk appears on your lips. “Do you want to lick me clean instead?”
Dabi freezes.
“I’m just messing with ya, pretty boy,” you giggle, sitting up to throw your arms around his neck, bringing him close to you. “Though I won’t mind it at all.”
Fucking hell, why are you doing this to him?
He knows you know how weak he is for you. “Don’t tempt me.”
You give him a kiss on the nose before pulling away, reaching for your bedside drawer to fish out what seems to be a brand-new phone. Dabi watches you curiously as he throws the towel into the hamper, picks up his boxers and wears it before plopping beside you.
“Take this.” You hand him the device and usher him to stand up again so you can change the blankets. “I’ll leave you messages here or even call you when I can with burner phones. This number—no one knows and no one will be able to track it.”
Dabi stares at the device in his hand as you rummage for new blankets in your dresser after wearing fresh underwear. “How about the other way around?”
You stop for a moment. “Um… I can find another phone.…”
“You better. There’s no way in hell I’m not annoying you too.”
You merely smile at his words, draping the clean blanket on your bed before climbing under it. “You’re into deep with me, huh?”
Dabi follows suit, joining you under the covers after placing the phone on the bedside table. “Say for yourself. Don’t think I don’t recognize the looks you gave me. It… It’s warm… Gives me, um, heart problems….”
“Heart problems…?”
Dabi pauses as he words his thoughts carefully, “Like my heart beats so fast as if I just fought off the number one hero.”
“I—” you grin from ear to ear now. “You give me heart problems too.”
Dabi can’t help bursting with so much joy at this moment. It’s such a foreign feeling—just talking and laying on your side. And he wants to do nothing but savour this as long as he can.
“Will you take care of it? My heart?” You ask, snapping him out of his thoughts.
And he didn’t even need to think twice to answer, “Of course. It’s yours after all. If I don’t, you’ll have my head or castrate your favourite dick.”
You burst into another fit of laughter. “Maybe…”
Dabi smiles at you, and an arm winds itself on your waist to have you pressed against him.
“I’m gonna take care of your heart too,” you claim.
He lays a kiss on your forehead. “I know you will, sweetheart.”
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AUTHOR’S NOTE. THIS WAS AN ABSOLUTE JOY TO WRITE SLDFKJALF if you love soft!dabi come scream into my askbox !! thank you for reading, lovelies <33
© coffeerecords — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is not allowed.
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luxesiren · 3 months
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a/n :: hey yall!! it’s been a minute but i genuinely haven’t really enjoyed this app in months but here’s a little something enjoy this dabi drabble i wrote months ago… also, the art isn’t mine!!
cw :: MDNI!! choking, degradation, smut.
thinking about dabi choking you… his cock moves in and out of your cunt and he’s groaning from how you clench around him, his head on the back of your neck as he presses you deeper into the sheets and listening to your muffled cries of pleasure.
“c’mon you can take it…you begged for it like a slut so you can take it all the same.” his laugh is almost humiliating to you but he doesn’t care, he just cares about making you cum.
through all his degrading words and harsh thrusts, it still makes you clench around him and keep him inside of you. your hand tries to push him back, trying to stop the ferocity of his thrusts but he’s faster than you.
“you trying to push me away? nah, don’t do that.” the smirk so evident in his tone, he grabs your arm and presses it into the small of your back. his other hand slinks up your body and lands on your throat — pulling you up without stopping, his hips still moving at the same pace as before.
“dabi! fuck- please, p-please.” you cry out, your tears falling down your cheeks and he has the most sadistic smile on his face as he looks at your tears.
“please what? let you cum?” he asks, his hand squeezing your throat before you can even answer but the rapid nod that he receives from you is enough, “and why would i do that? i haven’t cum yet so shut up and take it.”
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tired-teacher-blog · 1 year
Note
Hello teach 🌺💙
Can I request First time having sex with Izuku, Shoto, Katsuki, Dabi and Tamaki ( separately 😂 ) but it's their real personality ( insecurities, shyness... )
I always read people making things far away from the real character and sometimes I'm like 😐
No pressure I know you're the best 🥰
This was such a cute request to work on, so I hope you enjoy my input sweetie ❤️
First time
Characters : Bakugo/ Izuku/ Shouto/ Dabi/ Tamaki/ Fem reader
Genre/ Warning : Established relationship/ Smut/ NSFW/ 18+/ Vaginal sex/ squirting (in Izuku's part)/ cock warming -kinda- (in Shouto's part)
Please do not read if you're a minor
Masterlist|Second Masterlist
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Bakugo :
He kissed you again, groaning against your lips as his fully erect cock grazed your thigh.
He has been waiting for so long to finally have you spread out underneath him, moaning his name as he pushes himself deep into your heat..
Sweat beads appeared upon his flushed chest and arms as he caged you between them, and his piercing eyes stared lustfully at your longing form.
You were anxious –extremely so– it was your first time together like that after all. However, you could sense a hint of nervousness in his usually smug demeanor as well, and you wondered if it was just a figment of your imagination.. until he spoke.
_ "Don't worry babe, I promise I'll be gentle."
You knew about that deeply hidden soft side of him, the one that makes your heart skip a beat everytime it shows, "I know you will Katsuki."
You gasped when he finally breached your fluttering entrance, digging your nails in his shoulders as he immediately started moving within you.
His sensual kisses distracted you from the inevitable discomfort of the first few thrusts, and those big warm hands caressing your thighs delicately, gave you the needed comfort to leave your anxieties behind.
_ "You feel so good around me babe, fuck, tell me how you're feeling." he groaned against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
_ "It feels amazing! Yes, keep going.. just like that." you shamelessly begged as your brain turned into mush with every slow stroke of his veiny shaft against your longing walls, and his heart swelled with pride knowing that he was pleasuring you the way you deserved.
He leaned back, kneeling in front of you while his hands moved to grab your sides, and thumbs caressed your skin reassuringly as he kept a steady pace.
The new position drove you wild, was it because you were given a clearer view of his godly flexing muscles? Or was it that he was hitting a spot within you that had you seeing stars? Either way, you weren't going to last much longer.
_ "I'm close.. Katsuki.. I'm cumming." you announced, desperately clawing at his arms and squealing when he picked you up and cradled your butt cheeks so he could upthrust into you while you collapsed against his chest.
_ "Don't hold back babe, I'm close too." his growls filled your senses and his pulsating cock drove you over the edge soon after, your walls squeezing hard before creaming around his shaft.
Your fingers tugged on his hair weakly as your mind slowly cleared up, he pushed himself deeper into you a few more times before pulling out of your glistening cunt and releasing his pearly seeds all over the bedsheets.
It took you both a moment to recover, and you almost lost consciousness in his arms if not for that deep voice you loved so much, "are you feeling alright princess?"
_ "I am.. s' good.. love you s' much.." you mumbled quietly but he heard it all, smiling tenderly as he placed you gently on the bed and whispered a soft: "I love you too baby girl," before moving to run you both a relaxing bath.
Izuku :
_ "Is.. is this okay? Are you really sure.. about this?" he nervously asked as you finished removing the last article of clothing separating you from one another.
_ "Relax Izuku, you're too tense." you giggled softly before pecking his lips and straddling his waist.
You have been dating the pro hero for a few months, but your intimate times had never gone beyond the usual intense make out sessions, and his shy and reserved nature is mainly why.
_ "We've already got this far, I mean look how hard you are." you admired the huge cock you could barely wrap your fingers around, and wondered if it would actually fit inside you.
His only response was a strangled whimper and a tighter hold on your waist, and you chose to interpret that as an approval to carry on.
You steadied yourself on your knees, positioning your pussy right above his pulsating shaft and looking into his eyes one more time before lowering yourself oh-so-slowly.
Your legs trembled beneath you, almost losing control over your body if not for two strong arms holding you steady and helping you carry out your task, "I got you gorgeous."
Where did that come from? Where did his bashfulness go and when did he manage to take control?
You were no longer in charge of your movements, nor were you about to set the pace like you thought you would.
_ "Just relax, I'll do it." his big calloused hands moved to cup your bum, squeezing your flesh and lifting you up with ease before slamming you back down on his cock.
_ "Izuku! too deep!" your eyes widened and your nails sunk into his arms as you tried to regulate your breathing.
_ "Oh! I'm.. I'm so sorry sweetheart, did I hurt you?" he blinked innocently, fear evident in his voice as he froze for a moment.
_ "No, don't worry I was just.. surprised," amazing how that sweet side of him reappeared as soon as your well-being was called into question, and you couldn't help but smile as you thought of it, "let's keep going Izuku, I'm all yours to claim."
His blush deepened and his hold tightened on your buttocks, but his eyes held a determination that made your heart skip a beat. He lifted you up again, leaving only his tip inside, and you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation of another brutal thrust that never came, because instead, he lowered you slowly, making sure you could feel him thoroughly, repeating the action again and again and again until your moans were the only thing that could be heard.
You wanted his lips on you, but you couldn't for the life of you formulate a single word, settling for a longing gaze that he -fortunately- understood.
He smiled sweetly pecking your forehead first and moving to your scrunched up nose next before grazing his lips against yours and capturing them in a heated kiss, all the while bouncing you on top of him.
It was intense, passionate, the way he moved inside of you mixed with his breathtaking kisses drove you wild, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer if he kept it up, and judging by how erratic and sloppy his movements became, you knew he was too close as well.
His lips left yours and spread wet pecks along your neck, moving further down until they reached your bouncy breasts, taking one teat into his mouth and sucking gently before moving to the other.
And that did it for you, "Izuku! I'm cumming I'm cumming!" your moans turned into cries as you tensed up around him, trembling uncontrollably before gushing all over his abdomen.
The stream of your juices kept flowing with each snap of his hips, and you were too lightheaded to feel embarrassment at that point.
_ "Amazing, look at this I'm drenched.. you're going to make me cum sweetheart." he growled as he bounced you a few more times on top of him until the waves of pleasure had passed and you finally relaxed in his hold, and that was when he pulled out of you, pumping his length and releasing his seeds on the messy bed sheets underneath you.
_ "I'm sorry Izuku, I made a mess.." you mumbled quietly against his shoulder as shame washed over you, your first time together and this happens?!
_ "What are you talking about beautiful? That was so sexy and to be honest.. I can't wait to make you do that again." he responded cheekily as a gentle chuckle escaped his throat.
Shouto :
_ "Is this okay? I won't move until you tell me love, so take all the time you need." he sounded strained, holding you from behind and resisting the urge to start moving his hips as you both laid on your sides.
_ "Yes, this is fine, I'm okay." you responded quietly, sheepishness taking over your being.
He had you stretched out around his shaft oh-so-perfectly, and you thanked the heavens you weren't facing him at that moment.
It was your first time with the pro hero after all, something you hesitantly suggested earlier in the evening and to which he enthusiastically agreed upon.
His warm breath tickled your nape and his big protective arms squeezed you between them, "is this position comfortable enough?" he truly wanted your first time with him to be enjoyable, he had been waiting for that moment to come for a long time.
_ "Yes, this feels good." you placed your hands over his arms and shifted your hips a bit in order to get more comfy, but the action drove him deeper into your pussy and he instantly growled as a response.
You wanted him to start moving already, your walls desperately clutching onto him and you knew it must have been as hard for him to settle as it was for you, but you were too embarrassed to ask.
His lips caressed your shoulders, and his hot breath fanned over your skin as he trailed soft feathery kisses on your quivering flesh.
His hand brushed against your tummy, gliding along your luscious curves and resting on your thigh.
You couldn't speak, your lip caught between your teeth to prevent the whines threatening to slip out, and decided to let your body take control instead as you rocked your hips against his, and hoped he would take the hint.
_ "Y/n, can I?" he breathed out between soft kisses and you nodded weakly, feeling the curve of his lips against your nape, and finally allowing his name to escape your throat when he started moving within you.
He was gentle the whole time, knowing how much courage it must've taken for you to be this intimate with him, and wanting you to enjoy it thoroughly because you deserve to be treated well.
_ "How are you feeling princess?" he barely managed to keep his voice stable, as your gummy walls hugged his cock tightly.
_ "I'm.. 'm feeling good.. so good.. Shouto keep going.."
Your confidence went up and so did your bravery, nails digging into his arms as he kept a steady pace.
_ "That's good to know gorgeous, damnit.. I'm going mad." he wrapped an arm around your thigh, lifting it up so he could fuck you even deeper, a move that drove you both wild.
His smooth head kissed your cervix repeatedly, and it would have been overwhelming if his movements weren't gentle.
His other hand slipped between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, and you gasped knowing that you wouldn't last long after that, "Shouto! Wait wait! If you keep doing that.." you couldn't finish speaking as your words turned into whines.
_ "I know beautiful, I'm so close too, let's finish together." his thrusts quickened and his lips moved eagerly along your skin, sucking a perfect red mark right behind your ear.
You opened your mouth to announce your upcoming orgasm, but no meaningful words have left you, only a loud moan along with his name as you tensed up and spasmed uncontrollably in his arms.
He pulled out immediately, tapping his cock against your bum before spurting all over your back while his fingers still played with your clit until you finally settled.
He squeezed your shaky form tighter, breathing heavily and showering your soft skin with even softer kisses before moving you gently so you were finally facing him.
_ "Hi princess, how was it? Are you feeling any discomfort?" he whispered his query before running his thumb over your parted lips and kissing you deeply.
_ "It was perfect." you mumbled shyly as you averted your gaze, the night's activities playing again in your head.
_ "It was perfect for me as well, I love you y/n."
Dabi :
Your back hit the wall behind you, and before you could voice your protest, a pair of needy lips claimed yours.
It was your fault really, how else did you expect him to react after giving him the green light at long last?
Your shirt was torn to shreds, and so was your cute little skirt, and if you thought he would treat you gently just because this was your first time with him, then you've got another thing coming.
He's never been known to be a softy after all, and his way of manifesting his lust for you is enough proof.
_ "You look so fucking sexy," his lips latched onto your neck, sucking and nibbling on your warm skin while his fingers sneaked under the trim of your panties, "uh-oh, what do we have here? eager already are we?" his teasing continued and without a warning whatsoever, he slipped two fingers into your wet quivering cunt at once, pumping them slowly and watching with amazement as your pussy swallowed his digits greedily.
_ "Touya please.." you didn't need to word it clearly as he understood what you wanted, pulling his coated fingers out and smirking while admiring the sheen covering them.
_ "I got it doll, now hold on to me alright?" he cooed before picking you up and pushing your back against the wall again, wasting no time thrusting himself into your welcoming heat.
_ "Touya, not too fast please!" your whimpers filled his dark empty room, and as loud as you cried out, he chose to ignore your desperate request.
_ "You feel so fucking good y/n, why did we wait this long to do it?" he growled between each deep thrust delivered straight to your cervix.
His pace was unforgivably fast, hitting you right where you wanted and soon, you started slurring your pleas for him to keep going "just like that".
You looked dashing to him; heavy lust filled eyes, flushed skin, messy hair, desperate clutches on his shoulders, and his name falling from your parted lips seductively each time he was buried deep into your cunt.
He cursed under his breath, but it was mainly directed at his own regret for not taking you much sooner.
Honestly speaking, intimate relationships and sexual desires have never been among his interests or priorities until you came along, and voicing your consent was all he needed to hear after long weeks of imagining how it would be like to finally have you.
_ "The real thing is even better." he admitted with a smirk, leaning in to lick the string of saliva escaping your abused swollen lips before capturing them yet again in a passionate kiss.
It was intense, nothing like you've ever experienced before with any of your previous partners. His strength, his stamina, his familiarity with your needs, all of it was driving you nuts, "Touya, oh god! I'm cumming!" you broke the kiss to voice your announcement.
_ "Oh yeah? Go ahead then, let me see you lose control gorgeous." he was obviously nearing his own release as his thrusts became erratic, but he wanted to hold on a bit longer until you crumble in his hold.. and you finally did, spasming violently while struggling to form a coherent thought and almost passing out with an overwhelming pleasure.
He fucked you some more until he reached his own high, pulling out and shooting his sperm all over your belly, "we should do this again soon gorgeous." he requested heavily and you nodded weakly, smiling against the crook of his neck.
Little did you know, the 'soon' he referred to was only a few minutes away, and your first time together was just the beginning of a passionate night.
Tamaki :
_ "I.. I don't know.. this is embarrassing!" he covered his face with both hands as you lowered his boxers and revealed his rock hard cock.
_ "Well, seems to me like your body is more honest than your words." you giggled softly, taking his thick shaft in one hand while using the other one to fondle your own heat.
You lowered your head, eyes studying his trembling body as you took him in your mouth.
You hummed around his throbbing cock, eyes widening with surprise when you felt a grip on your hair, "you're.. so warm," he whined through a clenched jaw, unconsciously bucking his hips and hitting the back of your throat.
You moved back immediately, coughing as you tried to catch your breath, and seeing you in that state freaked him out.
_ "Oh God! Sweetheart I'm so sorry! Look at me, are you okay?" he bolted upright and came closer to you, caressing your cheeks and apologizing non stop.
In all honesty, you were perfectly fine, but he looked adorable blinking in fear and checking to see if you were alright, so you decided to play along for a bit.
_ "Maybe I'll feel better after you kiss me." it was a joke that you thought would lighten up the mood, but what he did next left you in state of disbelief, as he actually leaned in and kissed you deeply.
You had no time to react to his brutal force, and next thing you knew, you were laying on your back with him on top, still kissing you.
_ "Are you.. feeling better?" his innocence is baffling -always has been- and it's one of the things that made you fall deeply in love with him.
_ "I am," you giggled softly, cradling his cheeks and pulling him in for another kiss, moaning as the smooth head of his raging cock touched your glistening cunt for the very first time in your life.
You rolled your hips against him, craving for more, and he tensed up feeling your heat.
One of your hands traveled down to caress his shaft, "can I.. is it okay?" your self esteem slipped away little by little as you anticipated his response, wondering if he didn't want to go any further..
He must've sensed your struggles, because a shy smile appeared on his face before you could finally feel him breaching your longing entrance.
He hid his face in the crook of your neck, whines stiffled against your skin as he started moving hesitantly at first.
_ "Yes baby you're doing so good.." you cooed breathlessly as you wrapped your arms around him while gently caressing his spine.
Your little gesture helped settling his nerves, and soon, he picked up the pace as his thrusts deepened, but his face remained tucked in your neck.
You ran your fingers through his soft hair, pulling gently everytime he hit that tingly spot within you, " Tamaki, kiss me, please.." you wanted his lips on yours, you needed to feel him everywhere in your being, and all you had to do was ask once as he instantly connected your lips in a passionate kiss that took you off guard at first.
His thrusts quickened and you wondered if it was unintentional or if he was as close to climaxing as you were, but you assumed the latter judging by the twitch in his cock and the groans against your lips.
_ "Faster! Tamaki please don't hold back!" you tilted your head back and begged to be fucked harder, crying out his name when he did as you asked.
_ "Y/n, I think I'm gonna.." his lips were back on your neck, nibbling softly on your skin while rutting into you mercilessly.
_ "Me too honey! I'm cumming!" you wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your nails in his back as you finally reached your blissful high.
You trembled beneath him and he fucked you throughout your orgasm until he reached his own, pulling out last second and releasing his pearly seeds on your tummy before relaxing on top of your spent body.
You held him tighter, smiling satisfyingly and almost drifting off if not for a trail of soft kisses against your heaving chest, "I really.. I liked it.. so much.." he mumbled quietly and it was the cutest thing.
_ "Me too sweetheart," you whispered back and sighed in satisfaction as his arms sneaked around your waist and squeezed you between them.
@moumouton4
3K notes · View notes
touyaism · 4 months
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please — touya todoroki
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summary: dabi begs you to let him touch you
wc: 515
If there was one thing you knew about Dabi, it was that he got what he wanted. No matter what it was, he’d find a fucking way.
So, when you began rejecting his sexual advances, he really didn’t know how to behave.
“Not today,” you told him, despite him clinging to you like a baby, touching you everywhere, desperate to just take your clothes off.
“C’mon,” he groaned, dragging out his words, “can’t you just let me touch you?”
“I’m tired,” you said. Straight to the point and the truth, despite the fact that you did want him. If only you had the energy for it.
“Doesn’t matter,” he buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and drowning himself in it. “Just let me do all the work.”
“Dabi…” you groaned, rolling over in an attempt to get him off you, but it was no use, not when he was so much bigger than you. “I just wanna sleep.”
You could feel his cock pressing against you, piercings and all. He wore nothing but his boxers, the loose fabric falling off his body with any movement. Already rock hard, he pressed it harder into your bare thigh as if to make a point.
“Sleep, then,” he protested. “I don’t care.”
“What?”
“You can sleep, just let me fucking touch you.”
“Dabi-“
“Please .”
The word caught you off guard. It wasn’t something you’d ever heard from Dabi’s mouth - let alone in such a gentle tone. You opened your eyes to look at him, only to find him glaring at you like you were his next meal, sucking in and biting his bottom lip, his eyes fixated only on your body.
Your hesitation made you pause, and Dabi used it as an opportunity to sneak his hand under your shirt. You didn’t stop him. His hand teased further, gently rising upward and grabbing your tit. He squeezed gently, thumb dragging over the nipple and toying with it. You whimpered, squirming beneath him and trying to push him away. There was no way you call fall asleep when it felt that fucking good.
“Dabiii,” you groaned again, he moaned back mockingly, teasing you for the way you dragged his name.
“Can’t help it,” he muttered, lifting your shirt up all the way and pressing his face in the space between your tits. “You’re so fuckin’ soft,” he moved his head and aligned his mouth to your nipple, taking it in his mouth and sucking. He released with a pop, swirling the hard bud around with his tongue. You couldn’t help but arch your back into the movement, relishing in the way his hot breath on your sensitive skin teased you even more.
“Dabi,” you whimpered, unsure of whether you wanted him to stop or not.
“Please, don’t make me stop,” another lick, “your tits are too fuckin’ perfect.”
You couldn’t deny him. Instead, you ran your fingers through his hair and pressed him closer, closing your eyes and drowning in the soft feeling of his hands all over your chest.
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missmeinyourbones · 1 year
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I’LL MAKE THIS FEEL LIKE HOME
cw: nsfw, 18+. minors and ageless blogs will be blocked for interacting. wc 6k. todoroki fam lore. bnha manga + s6 spoilers. angst and fluff and smut and love and
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“Do you feel held by him? Does he feel like home to you?”
- Midsommar (2019)
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Touya was eight years old when his youngest brother was born—the same age realized that his house no longer felt like home. 
And while it never fit the traditional cookie-cutter feeling of a home before then, it was comforting in its own kind of way. It was definite, something that he could hold onto and strive towards. Something that was there at the end of the day, no matter how badly his hands burned or how quiet the dinner table was. 
Because before Shouto was born, there was still a chance. 
Fuyumi and Natsuo were just as much of failures as he was—it was anyone's game. He could keep pushing, train his hand to defy the science of his body and deal with it. Become what his father wanted so badly he’d kill for. That was home, the knowledge that there was still a chance for him. 
But the moment Shouto was born, hair perfectly split the same as his flawlessly cursed body, Touya knew. 
Instantly, he knew that his time was over—that there was no saving his dream of making his father proud. He hadn’t been enough, and he would have to live with that, in a house that's no home with a family that lives in the shadow of what he never got to be. 
He carries that feeling everywhere he goes. Like an eternal kink in his neck, it weighs heavy on his shoulders and disintegrates the marrow of his bones. Forever the boy without a home, Dabi continues to do what he does best—or maybe worst—and he survives. 
But, you don’t remember when Dabi became home to you. 
Well, that's not entirely true. Like all other things, you suppose it happened slowly, then all at once. 
You remember meeting him when you shouldn’t have. Recognizing his appearance from the local news, you remember the heavy feeling in your chest, like a child who was caught doing something wrong. The fear, the confusion. The part of you that wanted to help, the other than wanted to run. 
But you don’t remember how fast it all happened. 
Sewing his wounds and scrubbing his blood from your floor. Letting him sneak in to hide out, and waking up to an empty bed. You don’t remember the days bleeding into nights, but you could never forget the way his skin felt against yours.
You remember the impact, but the falling is all a blur. The stranger sleeping on your couch who has now read all of the books on your bedside table. The one who hissed and snarled for you to stay away, now crawls home to you on his knees. 
One day he wasn't, and the very next day, he was. 
You think that’s enough for you, but Dabi knows it’s too much for him. 
The sound of your window creakily opening no longer scares you in the middle of the night. If anything, it brings you a sick sense of comfort. 
Dabi slides through your living room balcony with ease, far too familiar with the routine of navigating your apartment in the dark. It does the job for him—keeps him out of the cold, gives him a bed to sleep in, a roof over his head. He finds that he enjoys the perks of your shitty building complex. 
Oh, and you're there, too. But, he swears that has nothing to do with the magnetic urge that keeps pulling him back to the fire escape on the fourth floor that remains unlocked. 
He opens your cabinets in search of something, anything, to fill his stomach in the slightest. He’s thin, almost alarmingly so, if you didn't know him—didn’t know his body is constantly working against him, eagerly taking the destruction he so carelessly puts it through.
Your sudden voice doesn't scare him. He doesn't so much as flinch at your clear tone in the silence of your home. 
“Cremation.” 
He briefly looks at you over his shoulder, humorously expressionless, before turning his back to you and rummaging through the cabinet again. 
“Gesundheit,” he scoffs.  
“It’s what your name means,” you breathe, tone still devoid of any emotion he can detect—or deflect. 
The realization burns him like his quirk, oddly painless but still alarmingly there. He holds his breath without realizing it, and its not until he coughs that he mindlessly exhales. 
Dabi. Cremation. 
True, he thinks. It’s no secret by any means, but he still finds his muscles tensing up as if you’d just said something you shouldn’t have. 
He doesn’t let his facade falter as he plucks a box of saltines from your cabinet. “Doesn't take a genius to do a basic translate search.”
“It’s not your real name,” you state, addressing the elephant infiltrating the room.
And at this, he fully turns to you. You stand in the entryway of the dark kitchen, arms crossed and eyes filled with sleep (or lack thereof, Dabi isn't sure he can tell the difference just yet). 
You're not angry. No, he's seen you angry before. This is different, harder. It's almost stoic. And while Dabi can’t put his finger on the exact feeling of the pit in his stomach, he knows he doesn’t like it.
He sticks his hand in the cardboard box before plucking a cracker and plopping the snack in his mouth. The salt burns the cuts on his lips when he sarcastically speaks, “You’re on fire with the observations today.” 
He watches you shrug, expression still void of any true indication of whatever your heart is feeling. The only light in the tiny apartment comes from the stove behind him. He can just make out your silhouette and barely your face through hardened focus and adjusting eyes. 
He thinks he’s grateful for that. He doesn’t want to see the details of your dissapointment when you see the real him. 
“Figured it was a bit too coincidental,” you rest against the doorframe. Dabi takes it as a good sign, you're not stiff. 
“Quirks don’t even manifest until a few years after birth, unless you were unnamed for the first five years of your life.”
Should’ve been, he bitterly thinks. Things would've been easier that way. 
He bites his tongue. 
The only sound that can be heard is the crunching of his teeth against the cracker he gnaws on. After a moment, he offers you one. You don’t move a muscle at his extended hand. He lets it sink back slowly, defeated, as he clears his throat. 
“It fits, doesn't it?”
It’s a rhetorical question, one he doesn’t actually expect you to answer. Because his name is all that’s known of him. Of course it should fit. Because when you look at him—his peeling and charred skin and hand that wields nothing but pain—it’s evident that all he can do is cremate.
His breath hitches when you speak up. 
“To some, sure,” you decide. 
With the way his chest tightens at your declaration, Dabi decides he doesn't like your tone. 
He shields himself with his bark. “What’s that mean?”
“It means I want to call you something different,” you ache, but Dabi can read between the cracks you let falter. I deserve to call you something different, is what your heart bleeds onto the floor. I’m different. 
He refuses to let that be the truth. 
“Didn't think you’d be one for pet names, doll.” He tosses the half-eaten box back into your cabinet, lazily shutting the wood and wiping his crumby hands on his sleeves. 
“I don’t see you how they see you,” your voice is stern now, he hears the determination in your shaky words. “I want to know your name.”
Your real one, the lines read once again. But in a split second, Dabi realizes he’s come too far to ruin whatever this is now.
“Fat chance in hell,” he dismisses, brushing your shoulder as he leaves the kitchen. 
You’re quick to follow—as you always are, he’s begun to notice. You're like a mosquito constantly buzzing in his ear. No matter how many times he swats and repels, you come back stronger. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t hate it. 
“Please.”
“No,” he’s even quicker to bore. “M’not dragging you into my shit.”
Too late, the voice in the back of his mind laughs. He’s always been his own worst enemy.
“There's more to you,” you continue to press, wanting something tangible, more from him. “You're not just what they make of you. You're a person, someone's son, someone’s–”
“Don't,” a balloon bursts behind his eyelids. His voice comes louder than ever before and it unsettles you, him, and the floorboards beneath your toes. 
“Don't you ever...fucking say that again. You hear me?” With his finger in your face, Dabi shakes. He prays to whoever is listening that you see it as fury, and not what it truly is—fear. 
And based on the tears flooding your eyes, he’d bet money he doesn't have that he’s right. In the silence of your home, you nod.
Dabi decides he’s had enough for one night, done enough to make you hate him just the right amount to forget about fixing him. 
On the way out, Dabi mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “Say something stupid like that one more time and you'll never see me again.” 
Dabi is exhausted.
His burner rings obnoxiously through the bedroom in the middle of the night. 
You’ve begun to associate the loud melody with the feeling of a knife—the blade cruelly trickling its tip against your skin. Cold, sharp, barely applying enough pressure to make you hyperaware of its potential to rip everything you've ever known away from you with a mere movement forward.
You never know who’s on the other end of the line, and this time is no different. When the infamous sound sends a chill up your spine, Dabi answers it without a second thought. He wordlessly picks up, listens intently, and hangs up as quickly as it rang. 
Then, he’s out of bed and putting his shoes on. 
He knows you're not asleep, so there's no point in pretending to be when you crawl out of bed and follow him to the den of your home. 
He grabs the remote, flicks the television on, and eagerly surfs the channels until he lands on the local news. Endeavor runs through the barren and obliterated streets of downtown, defending the city and fighting some… creature. You don't miss the way Dabi’s eyes don't blink whenever the hero is on screen. 
He’s too focused, too emotional when it comes to him. It's unlike anything you've ever seen from him, and you're tired of pretending not to see the smothering fire in his eyes whenever the man is brought into discussion. 
The reporter on the screen flips to another battle somewhere else in the city, with other heroes and other creatures and other things that should matter right now but for some reason don't. Because when Dabi finally takes his eyes off the screen to slip into his shoes, you spill. 
“Why him?”
He harshly tightens the laces of his boot, “Huh?”
“Endeavor,” falls from your lips, and he nearly hisses at the sound of the name on your tongue. “Why him out of all heroes?”
He hesitates in the slightest. The average eye wouldn't have noticed his pause, but you know him. You see the way he clenches his jaw and fiddles with the staples sealing his chin. 
He merely shrugs before tying his other lace, “He’s number one.”
“He wasn't always,” you contest, a bit too accusatory for his liking.
“Why does it matter?” Dabi bites. Bites the hand that feels him, shelters him, listens to him and chooses to remain quiet with what it knows. He bites the hand that loves him, and he almost regrets it when he sees your slight shock.
Almost.
His stomach churns as he watches you slightly falter before finding your footing once more. “It seems to matter to you.” 
So it matters to me, your heart aches to drill into his rock-solid mind. His eyes feel hot on your skin as he shakes his head and stands from where he sits. 
“He’s not a good guy, none of ‘em are.” 
“How do you know?”
His grip on his coat tightens in frustration. “I have a ton of shit on him. He’s not the savior you think he is.”
“I don’t think he’s a savior,” you retort, and it comes out a bit childish, like a belief you wish to convince yourself of. “I don’t know him.”
“But you trust him,” Dabi is quick to jump, almost as if you've fallen right into his trap. He looks a bit wild, as if you’re prey in his hands, saying all the right things so sweetly just for him to do what a predator does and hunt. Sink his teeth into your flesh and ruin you for the thrill of it. 
“Cause he’s the face of the fuckin’ country?” he coos with a venomously fake smile. “Cause he’s big and strong and always does the good thing, right?”
He’s trying to scare you, you know this—but you’ve never been scared of Dabi. Not when he’s tried to make you be, not when he’s done unspeakable things. He doesn’t scare you, but he’s upsetting you. He’s being mean, which isn't new to you but still rare enough to sting. 
“I trust you,” your voice cracks, making his stomach churn with shame, “so if you don’t trust him, then I trust you have a good reason not to.” 
Silence overtakes the room and Dabi’s chest burns with bile rising. 
You trust him? On what grounds? What reason has he given you to just hand over your patience without a fight, without a reason? 
Most importantly, if the thought of you trusting him makes him sick to his fucking stomach, then why does he find his lips moving before he can stop himself? 
“He beats his kids.”
The television cuts to a commercial. A car drives by below, honking furiously at something or other. He says it casually, eyes looking away from yours. 
Your voice is barely heard, “His kids?” 
You didn't even know he had kids. Come to think of it, you knew of one boy. Fire and ice who attends the hero facility downtown that's always getting into trouble. Set to follow in his father's footsteps, according to the tabloids. 
Dabi’s face doesn't falter at your surprise, immune to the violence he knows lives within his words. “Wife, too.”
The pieces don't add up in your mind. Dabi’s never been one for morals, not one for evening the tides and setting the universe straight when it comes to what's right and what's wrong. He does what he wants, he’s selfish. So why on earth would he care about a tragedy that doesn't involve him? 
He interrupts your thoughts when he walks over to the front door. The sound of him fiddling with the lock makes your heart drop—because it means he’s leaving, and for how long, you never know.
“Doesn’t anymore, apparently, but he did for years,” he scoffs in disgust. “Claims he’s turned a new leaf. Wants to be father of the year, all of a sudden.”
Leaving before you can process any thoughts to convey into words, he sneaks through your door without a second thought.
“The good guys aren't actually good, y’know,” he warns as he leaves you.
You don’t see him for two weeks. 
Dabi doesn't fuck you with caution. 
It's the same every time. Rough, quick, desperate. You on your stomach and him towering behind you. He doesn't look at you or say much other than a grunt or curse here and there. Always pulls out, if he even cums, and always leaves right after, if not in the middle of the night. 
But that doesn't mean it’s not good. Because fuck, it's great. 
While short-lived and based on nothing but selfish, primal needs, it's a private moment of feeling nothing but him. His hands are everywhere and his teeth are never too far behind. His skin is on fire and his pace is nothing short of eager. 
Your back is arched as your face is pressed to the mattress. You feel his cock throb as it swells against the insides of your walls with every rushed and eager thrust. 
“Fuck, please,” he hears you breathily whine, and you feel his smirk against the skin of your back. 
He uses your polite desperation to reward you, snap his hips extra hard and bury himself to the hilt of your cunt. He sits and burns inside of you, grip tight on your waist as he pulls you as close to him as he can without swallowing you whole. 
His tip dances directly at the opening of your cervix, just barely brushing the overly tender spot with a feather-light prodding that somehow feels like too much and not enough. He lets himself continue to stretch you, to mold you, to enjoy the only thing he believes was made for him before he ruins it. 
He feels you repeatedly clench around him as you mewl, “Please, more please.” You’re already completely spent when you plead, “Please, Dabi.”
And just like that, a switch is flipped inside of him.
His grip on your hips tightens, “Don’t.”
He goes to pull out of you completely, but your cry from his movement halts his hips. “Oh, nnnngh, Dabi—!”
In a whirl, you're flipped onto your back and met with a harsh gaze. 
“Don’t,” he growls into your throat, “call me that.”
Frozen in place from both shock and pure need, you airily gasp when you feel his cock head brushing itself through your folds. With a scarred wrist, Dabi swipes his tip between your folds, eyes fully absorbing and watching your expression twitch with every sensitive brush. 
“Touya,” he tells you through a slack jaw, watching your eyelids flutter at the teasing.
He pushes himself into your cunt, not fully, but enough for you to cry in slight release, before pulling out to where his tip is the only part of him swallowed by you. 
“Touya,” he repeats, nearly chanting as he aches to engrain it into your system. So it’s all you’ll ever know, the only word your tongue will ever taste from now on, no matter who is sticking what inside of you. He works to make your body remember that the only thing it should think of when feeling the slight stretch of your throbbing cunt is—
“Touya,” he bleeds. It almost doesn’t even sound like a word. “Say it. Touya.”
And you do. It crawls breathy and drunk from your throat as if your lips were made to form its syllables. Like a holy mantra falling from your lips, his whole body shivers when he hears your sweet heaves. 
“Touya,” is whimpered into his lips.
He holds his breath for a beat, before shakily recollecting himself from his quickly approaching high and readjusting his grip on your jaw.
“Again, fuck.” 
“Touya,” you gasp at his now snapping hips. It’s deeper, slower, and even more desperate than you thought it was before. It's messy and tired and he cradles you in his palms as you chant his name like a prayer.
Touya. Touya. Touya.
He abruptly finishes inside of you, his spurting warmth easily sending you over the edge, too. 
While it was something that was always offered, Touya has never once come inside of you, always choosing to pull out last second, if he finished at all. You savor the moment, letting him rut his cum into you until your both dry with exhaustion. 
Breathing returns to a normal rate and Touya lets himself soften inside of you. With his head burrowed in your neck, he makes a move to pull out of you. To leave, your chest tightens at the realization, so on instinct, you let your legs wrap around his torso, crossing your ankles and keeping him as your own for just a little bit longer.
Without a fight, he lets you. He lets himself stay inside of you as he drifts to sleep in your hold.
“Touya,” he hears you coo, listens to you taste it on your tongue and determine that you like its flavor.
“S’pretty,” you decide in a sleeping daze. “Fits you better.”
Dabi drifts to sleep thinking about the irony of that statement.
The puzzle pieces itself together rather quickly after that. 
It turns out Endeavor does have kids—four, to be exact. Three boys and a girl, all different equations of fire and ice and grief. 
It's not hard to find articles on what happened at Sekoto Peak. What happened to Touya Todoroki, the boy who died for nothing, who you now know somehow sits alive on your couch with a bowl of ramen noodles and a wet head.
He focuses on the television before him. A cheesy horror film from the late 80s plays through the grainy screen. His feet are resting on top of the coffee table and the bowl in his lap is steaming. He uses his chopsticks to dive in regardless of its heat. 
Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, you can smell your eucalyptus shampoo in his hair from where you sit. Though his head is still damp, you can tell the color has gotten lighter. While still practically jet black all over, you're able to see the slightest tint of light peeking through his roots. You know better than to ask, but you're sure your guess is as good as any. 
Touya must feel your gaze on him because his eyes flicker to the side where you quietly admire his profile. Through a mouthful of noodles and steaming broth, he mumbles. 
“What’re you doing?”
You smile at the lack of enunciation in his words before innocently shaking your head. “Nothing.”
Unconvinced, his eyes narrow. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” he accuses. 
You roll your eyes out of habit though your heart is anything but irritated, “What, I can’t look at you, now?”
He uses the next bite he takes to hide the smirk growing on his face. “Not with that stupid look on your face.”
He takes pride in watching you get flustered, scrunching your nose and giggling out a horrified, “What look?”
He reaches across the couch to close the gap between the two of you, before flicking your forehead.
“That look,” he declares.
He doesn't move back to where he was sitting. He lets himself remain next to you, your head lightly resting on his shoulder as the sound of the movie webs throughout your living room.
It’s easy, too easy. It’s natural and warm and feels like the closest thing to a home he’s ever held in his calloused and weeping palms. 
And Touya is selfish. 
He wants to grasp onto it, white-knuckled and pressing crescents into his palms—he wants to keep you. Wants to keep this. But he knows better. 
Touya knows that the stupid look on your face was one of love. Pure and undeniable. But he doesn't let himself think too much about it. 
The weather changes with the wind, and it’s colder in Japan when Touya gives you a piece of him you never thought you’d get. 
He’s just arrived back from god knows where doing god knows what, but you’ve learned not to question it. You welcome him in every time with a warm smile and an urge to hold him, and he thinks maybe thats why he hears himself suddenly spilling.
“Saw him today,” he breathes evenly.
His words hold no context, no prior conversation triggering his statement. It just exists in the space between the two of you on the couch, and the ball is in your court. 
Your head tilts in careful thought, “Who?”
“Downtown,” he ignores your question, “cornered him for a second and everything.”
And though you know nothing and shouldn’t be able to understand the man beside you, you do.
You feel his pain in the way his eyebrow twitches, how his fingers crack against his palms. You might not get it, but you try. You’ll always try for Touya. 
You encourage him, “And what happened?”
The wind howls outside, and you feel your home settle beneath its harsh hit. The walls crack with movement as the two of you remain seated beside one another. 
After a moment, Touya clears his throat. 
“Nothing,” he bitterly laughs to himself. “Absolutely nothing.”
The tea in your hand buzzes heat through its mug, and it feels like Touya’s touch. When he’s careful and cautious and places his hands on your stomach, treating you like glass he needs to mold. 
“Looked me dead in the eyes, felt my fuckin’ flame, and—” he cuts himself off at the emotion crawling into his words with a cough, “and nothing.”
You say nothing, but Touya knows that nothing needs to be said. He can sit on his couch with the tea you made him and the look you're giving him and he knows he can trust you. As much as he doesn't want to, he can. 
With his head hung low in shame, he rips off the only bandaid he’s ever had for the deepest wound he never got the chance to properly clean.
“He’s my old man,” he harshly swallows. 
After a moment of silence, he drags his head up from the floor. 
You're still looking at him the same, eyes dancing with love and some sick want to understand him. 
You simply reach across the cushion and squeeze his hand. 
“I know,” you whisper. 
And in what Touya imagined to be an earth-shattering conversation, he feels the corner of his mouth pulling upwards into an ironic smile.
“’Course you do,” he laughs under his breath. It's not malicious or accusatory, it's a matter of fact. 
Because of course, you know. Of course, you would see through his master puppetry and barring fangs. Of course, it wouldn't change how you see him.
Of course.
In what should be a terrifying moment, Touya lets himself smile. He shakes his head as he sighs, “Father of the fuckin’ year, right?”
“M’gonna do something,” Touya tells you solemnly one afternoon in bed, “and you’re gonna hate me for it.”
The freshly setting sun shines through the window, and you can feel its heat warming up your legs through the frame. The rays feel oddly contrasting to his cloudy day words. 
You open your eyes to find his. They’re already looking back at you, glasslike as they flicker across your features. Like he’s searching for something neither of you have an answer to. 
Your foot brushes against his calf as you shift to face him. 
“I could never hate you,” you softly remind him, “you know that.”
Touya fights the urge to roll his eyes, and you bite back a smile at the agitation wrinkles forming on his forehead. Your fingers move without thinking, using your thumb to iron and smooth over his delicate skin. 
“Fine,” he huffs, but you don’t miss the way he softens beneath your touch.
 “I’m gonna do something and you’re gonna yell at me for it,” he follows up more gentle this time, like a tainted whisper afraid to be too loud in the honeyed quietness of your home. 
It fills your stomach with a familiar sense of unease. 
“Well, do you deserve to be yelled at?”
He softly smiles, one equal parts of happy and sad, “Probably.”
You return the look as you sit on his words. He’s treading lightly, which is a thoughtful change compared to his usual acting on impulse.
He’s cautioning you. Preparing you for something bitter, and while you appreciate the warning, you know it can’t be anything good. It feels a lot like the breathtaking sunset before a disastrous overnight storm. 
Your voice is a whisper when you meekly ask him, “Can you tell me any more?”
And though the look on his face is regretful, his answer comes all the same. 
“No,” he swallows. 
And like the saint you are, Touya doesn’t know why he’s surprised when you merely bob your head in understanding and smile.
“Okay,” you nod.  
You expect that to be all. Because Touya’s never been one for words, let alone more than the bare minimum amount needed. And you were deemed lucky enough to get a vague warning. 
That should be the end of the conversation, but it’s not. 
Touya reaches for your wrist and his fingers dance along the bone lightly. He doesn’t remove his eyes from where they bore into yours when he breathes. 
“M’sorry.”
The words are foreign on his tongue, and his smallness unsettles you. Something feels wrong, like nausea brewing and waiting for bile to finally strike. 
You sit up, cradling his face in your palms as you coo words of reassurance. He feels cold, his body temperature ironically contrasting the heat that runs through his veins. He’s trying so hard to keep whatever he knows inside the clear cage of his mind, but you can practically hear the cracking of the glass beneath it’s weight. 
“Hey, no,” you exhale between kisses to his hairline. “No, don’t start that shit.”
Because while he doesn’t tell you everything, Touya tells you enough, and it’s more than you ever thought would be true with someone as out of reach as him. 
He may not tell you he loves you, but he says it through his eyes. He doesn’t tell you how he has so much respect for you it could swallow him whole, but sometimes, in the glimpse of his stolen glances, you can feel it. 
He can’t tell you what he’s going to do, but he can tell you he’s sorry. And that is something in and of itself. 
Touya closes his eyes at the affection. He wishes he could freeze time and savor this moment forever. Keep it as a souvenir to place on his shelf and keep him company on lonely nights to come. He doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to be anywhere else that isn't here, right now, with you.  
He does his best to soak in how your lips feel against his as you promise, “We’ll figure it out, yeah?”
But he’s not so sure, because while you think he’s apologizing for not being able to tell you more, Touya is apologizing for the hell he knows is to come. 
He’s dead. He has to be dead.
The screen in front of you feels like a cruel joke as it flashes clips of the scene. Not Dabi, but Touya, on national television—spewing venom to the entire country with a smile. . 
He speaks slowly, solemnly, like he's thought this through. Like he’s rehearsed and planned this all along. He speaks like a spiraling politician, and it cuts like a blade in your back.
You think about the television screens across the city right now.
A family whose gameshow night got rudely interrupted. A cafe whose workers are making their final lattes for the night, sweeping the floors and washing the counters as his rambling mindlessly plays in the background. You wonder if anybody is home at the Todoroki residence, if the television is on, or if it was unplugged years ago.
Touya is dead, and he warned you. 
That’s why he did this, why he planned this to unfold the way it did. He told you that you’d hate him, and like a fool, you told him he was wrong. 
A knock on the door is barely heard over your heavy breathing, and you debate on answering it.
It has to be the police, or maybe even a hero—looking for you, now an accomplice blinded by a mirror you thought was a window.
Your brain starts to spiral with thoughts that make your chest heave.
Did Touya turn himself in? Go down without a fight? Did someone see him leave your home? Had they known this entire time? 
Maybe they were waiting for the right moment to strike, for the dominoes to ripple so they can make their move when you’re too weak to defend yourself. Maybe he double-crossed you, blamed whatever he could on you before driving a getaway car in the opposite direction of your apartment. Maybe he never cared at all—maybe the realest thing you’d ever known was orchestrated from beginning to end. 
Another knock comes, this time more urgent and harsh. And there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable—so with tear-stained cheeks and shaking shoulders, you open the door.
And it’s Touya.
With white hair and soggy clothes, he stands in the hallway of your crumby apartment complex.
You want to laugh at the irony of it all. The first time he uses your actually door instead of window, he's a new man.
New hair, new name, a new look in his eye—one that swims of something you can't put your finger on. He’s alive and in front of you, and regardless of the anger overflowing your cup, you need to feel him.
So you pull him through the threshold, inside of your home, and against your skin. You feel the wet leather of his jacket, and smell the ash from the battle mixed with the coffee he had before he left this morning. 
He’s here, and you love him.
“I hate you,” your cries vibrate against his chest as you weakly push and punch at his shoulders. “I hate you, I fucking hate you.”
Touya lets you sob into his shirt. It’s covered in your tears and blood that’s not his. He lets you thrash and scream and crumple beneath his hold. 
He wants to say I told you so. I told you you’d hate me. 
“How could you do that,” he makes out between your hyperventilating and sobs, “how could you do that to me?”
His throat restricts with tears that can’t come as you melt against his body, “I would have never done that to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Touya breathes, and he repeats it. Says it again and again and again until it all bleeds together into nothing but syllables and sobs. 
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m home, and I’m sorry. 
The bedroom is cold, the window slightly cracked open as Touya shuffles your quilted blanket off of his clammy body.
He always runs a bit hot at night, though he’s ironically ice to the touch when his quirk isn’t at work. 
Now on top of your comforter, his scarred palm lays open to you. He flinches every now and then as you delicately draw shapes into it with a painted fingernail. His eyes are closed, but he’s able to recognize the swirling form of your movements, the same ones you’ve drawn every night since he came back home to you.
He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this at peace. 
After everything, he’s still here. And not only is he still here, but he’s okay with that, because he’s with you. 
“I've never—” he hesitates, but the darkness illuminating the room gives him a surge of confidence. 
“I've never had this,” his voice is pained, nearly softer than silence itself.  
He feels your finger stop swirling for a moment, but it resumes just as quickly as it halted. He feels you alter your pattern, and with cleaner lines and softer edges, he’s able to recognize the heart you doodle on his skin.
“Had what?” you gently ask.
“A home,” Touya breathes, before correcting himself, “where I’m wanted.”  
You smile and Touya feels so loved he nearly makes himself sick. He feels so held, so wanted, so right in your bed and beneath your delicate fingertips. 
The stranger in your home. The outlaw who smells of your perfume. The boy who never got a second chance, but the man who got a third.
Touya has so much love for you that he doesn't know where to put it all.
But for a moment, when he looks at your smile and feels your fingertip tracing his palm, he sees it as you offering your open arms to hold any excess he can’t carry. 
He feels you grin against the scarring of his wrist. 
“Well,” you kiss the tender spot where skin meets stitching, “you might wanna get used to it.”
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star-spirit-mayhem · 11 months
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Waking up with Dabi in between your legs. Your pajama bottoms long discarded on the bedroom floor and the only thing worth focusing on is a warm pleasure that gently coxes you into consciousness as Dabi slowly tongue fucks your pretty hole. He's watching you closely as your eyes blink open and your hand reaches for his hair, pulling a downright sinful moan outta him.
"Pretty little pet, So eager for me. Just relax and let me take care of you doll, wanna make you fall apart around my mouth before we gotta get up for the day- make sure you're walkin' funny so everyone knows how good I make you feel" he sounds so breathless and needy like he's starving for you as he dives back in-between your legs making you gasp and moan as he starts giving your most sensitive spots all the attention he could muster, determined to have you broken and dumb on his tongue before he let you out of his bed.
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dabisqueen · 5 months
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18+, Minors DNI
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Dabi, who is moaning your name unabashedly as he's buried deep inside your warm wet slit, feeling your walls flutter around him.
Dabi, who folds you in half, pressing your knees apart to keep you wide open for him, rewarding you with precise strokes against your sweet spot.
Dabi, who has your tits in his mouth, giving you long, deep thrusts, while your pretty pussy tightens around his fat girth, sweet moans and whimpers falling from your mouth.
Dabi, who feverishly mutters how wet and tight you are and how good you make him feel, how you're the best for him and always will be.
Dabi, who watches in awe as your puffy folds keep swallowing every inch of his hard shaft, your cream pooling in a white ring around his base.
Dabi, who pushes you over the edge multiple times until he can't hold it anymore, feeling his balls throb, ready to empty their load inside of you.
Dabi, who groans against the pulse of your neck as he comes, twitching cock buried balls deep, filling your cunt with his creamy, hot load.
Dabi, who stays buried deep inside of you, trying to catch his breath as your combined juices drip down your ass and his balls, staining the bedsheets below.
Dabi, who feels your warmth against him, inhaling your sweet scent and knowing you're his. Forever.
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This is for you, @dabismoon
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dabislittlemouse · 8 months
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run, baby, run
-Dabi x Reader
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ෆ synopsis: Dabi fell for you at the first sight so he’s been stalking you and haunting you the whole time until he now gets his hands on you. He is determined to make you fall for him and crave him just as much as he does towards you
ෆ warnings: dubcon/noncon, yandere themes, smut, choking, fingering, reader has mixed feelings, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
ෆ A/N: this is totally inspired by the book I’m reading “Haunting Adeline” and I’m absolutely obsessed with the whole story. Definitely the best dark romance I’ve come across reading. So of course I had to write something :3
ෆ Song recommendation: Dutch Melrose- RUNRUNRUN
MASTERLIST
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“Run” Dabi growls. “If I catch you I fuck you”
You weren’t sure how you found yourself in this situation but here you were: running in the dark woods in the middle of the night, heart pumping right out of your chest and adrenaline level chasing the sky. You kept running and running, your legs threatening to give in any time as they grew too tired to continue the movement. But you never stopped running away from the man that has been haunting you this whole time, like a shadow that never left you alone from the moment he laid eyes on you.
****
The man with those piercing blue eyes that would send anyone to their knees just by a single stare, the scars decorating his features grotesquely and the devilish grin on his face, the sight of him alone left you breathless. The same man had been stalking you for quite a long time, keeping you on high alert constantly, every single noise, every step of his in your house late at night, the feeling of being watched, you didn’t live a day without fear stalling deep in your chest from the mysterious shadow attached to you.
He waited, he watched you closely, he studied you, he provoked you, and the more time passed the more his obsession towards you grew. No matter how much you protested, no matter the circumstances, he would make you his. But patience is key, and Dabi is indeed a patient man sometimes, especially when he wants his plans to work perfectly well. He didn’t want to just make you his, he wanted your heart too. He could easily kidnap you and use you for his own sick pleasure but no; he wanted your love, he wanted you as obsessed with him as he is with you. You ruined his life, because nothing else is in his mind except you.
You were brave, and stupid. Your threats falling on deaf ears as Dabi knew too well you’d grown accustomed with his “weird ways” of approaching you, to the point that as much as he scared you, you couldn’t help the thrill and adrenaline rush in your veins whenever he hunted you down. You hated it, it was so wrong to fall for your stalker, for someone so sick and twisted as Dabi.
But he could wait no longer. His patience grew thin. As you screamed at him to leave you alone, he decided to finally give you the damned opportunity.
“Alright sweetheart” Dabi whispered, licking his lips in anticipation. “Y’want me out of your life so badly? Then I’ll make your wish come true”
The tone in his voice was almost teasing, and you didn’t believe him. You were scared he had something up his sleeve.
And he did.
“Oh really?” you scoffed. “Is this the part when I get rickrolled and in fact I never escape you?”
He chuckled. “Nope. I thought I’ve made it clear that you can never escape me, doll”
You swallowed, the tension thick in the air as chills ran down your spine, not sure if it was from the cold night breeze or his words. You both were outside of your house, a dead silence surrounding the area where nothing except the faint sound crickets could fill your ears.
“Spill it out” you said, your voice almost shaking as you tried to put out a brave facade. But he saw right through it.
“Impatient aren’t we?” he clicked his tongue. “Alright, I will give you this one chance and if you succeed, I will be out of your life. Completely.”
You bit your lip nervously as you listened to him closely.
“It’s simple really” he continued, walking around you like a predator around his prey as you sat still, frozen in place, his heavy boots crunching down the leaves and his pace was slow and intimidating. His eyes never leaving you for once. “All y’gotta do is run away from me. Straight to that forest. If you get out of the forest successfully without me catching you.. then you’re forever free from me…Y/N~”
He pronounced your name with such low voice and rolled it on his tongue like he was mentioning the name of his favorite meal in the world.
You nodded, still nervous. “And if you catch me?”
The grin on his face was evil, licking his teeth as his eyes flared at you. You weren’t sure if the man in front of you was a man or a demon.
“If I catch you, I fuck you”
*****
Breath was caught in your throat as you sprinted deep in the dark woods not too far from your house. Despite from going there too many times during the day, it was harder to find your way during the night. The forest seemed to have changed shape, it felt like there were more trees than usual, and you could swear you’ve been running in circles for the third time, always ending up in the same place.
“Fuck, where is it?!” you whispered to yourself, panic setting in as you tried to find the shortest path out of the forest. It was hard to run fast and at the same time not make any noise, it was hard to keep calm knowing he was after you, hunting you down like the small vulnerable prey you are.
His words rang in your ears over and over, the consequences if you get caught and lose this little game of cat and mouse.
“I can smell you~” he rasped out, not too far from where you were hiding. You could hear his heavy steps crunching everything on his path, letting you know he was close. Your hand clasped your mouth, preventing any whimper from falling out of your mouth as dread settled deep in your gut. How did he get so close to you in such a short time when you’d been running for your life hoping to get as far away as possible?
You crawled out of your hiding place to get further away from him, but his sultry voice seemed too close the whole time, it was driving you crazy.
“You cannot escape me doll” the voice said, making you turn your head back. But nothing was behind you.
“You can run as far away as you like..” to your left you turned, the voice seeming to come in many directions from the dark. Then silence fell once again, all you could hear where the fast heartbeats in your chest and your own breath, blood turned cold as you froze there, sweat coating your forehead.
“…but you’ll always end up back to me”
A scarred hand emerged from the darkness, grabbing your wrist harshly and pulling you forward. A choked scream fell from your mouth as you were slammed right on a tree, your back hitting the rough surface of the trunk. Before you could even think, the same hand was wrapped around your fragile throat, preventing the air from going to your lungs as you choked, tearing up.
“Gotcha” Dabi chuckled darkly, squeezing your throat more as his other hand grabbed your hip, pulling your body towards his. The heat radiating off him was suffocating you even more, he was taller and bigger compared to you while you squealed in his grasp like a scared little mouse caught in his trap.
His warm tongue came out to lick a singular tear falling down your cheek, groaning as he enjoyed the salty flavor of it, before setting his eyes on you again.
“You’re mine baby” he whispered. “All mine. I told you from the beginning that you will never escape me. You.. you were made for me..”
His hand came under your thigh, lifting it up to wrap your leg around his waist.
“…you were created for me to love, to break and shape you however I want. For me to mold and manipulate as I please”
“N-No!” you choked out, vision going dark.
Dabi released the tight grip on your throat as you started coughing and gasping for air. His hand gripped your hair from behind, lifting your head up to look at him as he loomed over you. You could swear his eyes were almost glowing in the dark.
“I will eat your fucking heart out” he grinned, his lips touching yours before he gave you a heated kiss, moaning and grunting in your mouth as his tongue intertwined with yours. The kiss was rough and possessive, taking your breath away as he bruised your lips.
“Mmmhh fuck~ your flavor, can’t wait to fucking claim you for good” Dabi said, his hands tearing the panties off of you while you whimpered and struggled to get away from him. He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together, scoffing in annoyance at your resistance.
“Stop lying to yourself Y/N. If you don’t want this why is your pussy weeping for me?” he growled, dipping a finger right inside your sloppy hole.
“It’s.. not! F-Fuuuck” your eyes rolled back as he flicked your clit, rubbing it in circles slowly. It was embarrassing, but all this chase and panic sent a thrill deep in your core, making a pool between your legs that would haunt you forever. Nothing about this was okay, but yet a sick part of you enjoyed it, the part of you who put all the morals behind and enjoyed the moment of being chased down by the big bad villain and being claimed like this. Devoured like this.
“Yeah? It’s not huh?” he laughed, adding a second finger and doing a scissoring motion, making your legs tremble. “I’m a man of my words doll, I told you what happens if I catch you. Too bad my little mouse didn’t get to escape that easily from me~”
Dabi buried his face on your neck, nibbling and biting down, leaving his marks all over you and drawing some blood out in the process. Rolling his eyes in pleasure he licked the blood off you, proceeding to go down to your chest to do the same thing. His hand continued to play with your pussy while you shamelessly grinded yourself on his palm.
“F-Fucking hate you!” you gritted your teeth, orgasm nearing.
“Yeah? Show me how much you hate me then, c’mon princess” he smiled, his palm moving faster to get you to come undone for him. The sound of your wet pussy was loud enough among the silence of the dark forest, your face heating up in embarrassment.
“Look how fuckin’ filthy you are for me darling”
Your legs squeezed shut together as you came all over his fingers, a loud whine falling from your mouth as orgasm crashed and shattered you. You leaned back, catching your breath, body trembling as Dabi enjoyed the fucked out expression on your face. You almost didn’t even hear the “click” sound of his belt unbuckling, unzipping his pants before he lifted you, spreading your legs.
“Aren’t you my gorgeous girl?” he whispered, kissing your lips while the tip of his cock teased your wet folds, grinding against your puffy clit.
“I-I’m not your girl!” you replied weakly, the soreness making you whimper in his mouth. His smoky scent invaded your senses, it was intoxicating and it made you really crave the demon that haunted you everyday.
“Ooh yes you are, only mine. My sweet girl~” Dabi replied back, and without a warning, he shoved himself in you inch by inch, his head falling back. “Nghhh fuck- my pretty slut you are~ so fucking tight f’me”
His size made it harder for you to get used to him as he stretched you, splitting you open, invading and burning your insides. Tears hanging on your lower lashes finally rolled down your cheeks as you mewled on his shoulder.
“Too much! S’ too big!” you groaned while he laughed in your face.
“I’m not even halfway in princess”
With that he buried himself deep in you, leaving you breathless as his cock almost kissed your cervix. A guttural groan left his throat as your velvety walls wrapped so nicely around his cock, it took everything in him to not cum right there.
“You feel so good baby” he bit your earlobe while setting the pace, fucking you against the tree. “Feel like fucking heaven. My heaven~”
His pace became brutal as he plunged deep inside of you, hitting the deepest parts of you while you screamed and choked on his cock. The sloppiness of your entrance and the skin slapping mixed with your moans and his grunts were the only sounds that could be heard in the woods. His hands would leave a bruise on your asscheeks as he gripped them hard and spread them, landing a harsh slap and making you yelp.
“Mmmhm scream as much as you want” he groaned. “Nobody will come to help when I get your whole soul. When I. Make. You. Fucking. Mine”
With each word he thrusted harder and harder.
“I will chase after you forever no matter how much you run, you can’t hide from me. Not here or in any other lifetime. Y’gonna have to kill me if you wanna get rid of me, but you can’t do that anymore now princess can you?” he grinned, forcing you to keep eye contact with him by gripping your chin.
“Because hate it or not, you want me too now don’t you?”
The truth slapping your face hard had your eyes flaring in rage and your face heating up in shame, you hated that you wanted him, you loathed yourself for craving him and his attention, this all was so wrong.
But it felt so right.
Not knowing how else to release your anger, you crashed your lips against his, kissing just as roughly as he did, biting him until you were sure his lips were bleeding. You poured all the hate and need in that kiss, and he took it all like a starved man while his cock continued thrusting deep inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your head spin.
“That’s it baby” he breathed out as you pulled away from him, his head dizzy from the kiss and his cock throbbing. “Just how we both like it yeah?”
Rough. That’s how you both liked it, you wanted it rough so you could pour your hate on him for haunting your life like this, and he could pour his hate and love on you for haunting his mind and soul.
“You’re mine.. as much as I’m yours, y’hear me?” he groaned, reaching his own high too.
“Mmmhmm” you moaned as you felt that knot forming in your stomach, too fucked out to reply back anything other than sounds.
“M’gonna take your heart, just like you did with mine. No getting away from me.. ever” he kissed your lips as his hand reached to rub your clit once again. You kissed him back feverishly, sweat coating both of your bodies.
“Mmm y-yours” you said meekly and he moaned in pleasure.
“Yes baby, all fucking mine. Gonna be my good girl and cum on this cock now? C’mon, princess..”
It didn’t take long for you to cum for him, his words sending you over the edge as you clenched tight around his cock, wanton high pitched moans leaving your throat. It was too much, you almost saw stars as he fucked the orgasm out of you still, milking him for all his worth as he came deep in you. You bit your lip feeling his warm seed painting your insides, you felt so full of him and you couldn’t get enough of it.
You couldn’t understand how you could hate Dabi and yet want to be full of him in every aspect, but here you were.
After catching his breath too, he leaned down to kiss your forehead, wiping the hair off your face and admiring your features.
“I know you hate me, and I’ve never been a good man” he whispered as he pulled out of you, hissing in process. He held your limp body bridal style, heading out of the forest.
“And I can’t pretend to be a good man so you can love me..” he continued, not sure if you were even hearing him. But you were, despite from closing your eyes, you were hearing every word.
“But I’m a selfish bastard, and I want ya all to myself. So, if that means forcing you to love me just the way I am, with every fucked up part of me, then I’m gonna fucking do it. I won’t pretend to be good, cause I’m not”
You swallowed hard at his words, knowing that the villain was in fact serious about all this. It wasn’t just some game of cat and mouse. He had fallen hard for you, and he’ll be damned if he won’t make you feel the same way towards him. As twisted as it all is, he made you feel desirable, he worshipped you in a way nobody ever did, he made your heart swell in your chest and your pussy clench on air just at the thought of him.
Whether he knew it or not, and as much as you hated it, you indeed had fallen for him too.
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Tags: @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @shadowsandshapes @dabihawksluva @mossy-opal @daniidil @holydayaria @syrenkitsune @arinexeisnotworking @cherrykisssess @doumadono @dabis0bitch @mysideeffectsofyou @bubblegumsblog @murderous-snail @sukunas-bitxh
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kelin-is-writing · 1 year
Text
dabi has definitely a thing for you wearing his clothes, but not a normal amount, an amount that can actually blow your mind completely.
when you happily wear his hoodie or oversized shirts and it swallows your small figure, dabi realizes the huge size kink he has which makes him feel endeared by the sight of you looking so small (in comparison to him) and cozy in his clothes, his heart would be fluttering endlessly.
and when you wear his oversized shirts with only his boxers underneath it?!?! god... when you do that dabi goes feral, literally rock hard inside his sweatpants and would inhale a sharp breath from between his teethes the moment he notices it. you were going to drive him completely crazy one day.
before you can even realize what’s happening, the villain has you spread onto whatever surface closer to him thrusting vehemently his dick into your pussy resting an hand on your belly as his eyes clouded with lust and desire, mirroring yours, looked down at you intensely.
the sight of him fucking you into his shirt and boxers is simply too hot for dabi, just like that he’s pistoning rhythmically with sharp slaps against your pelvis, a satisfied smirk on his face as a restrained groan from the back of his throat left his mouth.
“looking and taking me so fucking good, princess what am i gonna do with you?”
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