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le-fruit-de-la-passion · 1 year

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The Broken Window - Chapter 1 - Dabi x Reader (Explicit)

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You didn't really think you could outrun a deal with the Devil, did you?

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You were running.

You were running, and running, and running, but it didn't matter. They were right behind you like hunting dogs after their prey, their hands clawing at your ankles. Were you in the city or the wild? The pure darkness that surrounded you didn't answer. You knew soon, there would be nowhere left to run to.

A hand grabbed you by the foot, and you fell face-first into the nothingness. They were all over your body now, suffocating you, burying you deeper into the void, the sound of your own heart maddening inside your head. You tried to breathe, but you couldn't, you couldn't, and a hand wormed its way inside your chest as it tore through your muscles and bones to toy with your insides. You could feel it, deep inside you, ready to grab onto your lungs and squeeze every inch of air out of them like they promised you they would, and then-

And then, you woke up.

It took you a few seconds to realize you were in your room, safe, whole. You felt your arm shake as you put your hand against your chest, feeling the smooth skin and the presence of the trashing heart under it. It was still there.

You absentmindedly wiped your eyes, unshed tears and overwhelming fatigue making your sight blurry. The bed creaked as you got up, the cold tiles on the floor grounding as you made your way to the bathroom. Were you ever going to sleep peacefully again?

The old faucet hesitated before spewing out some freezing water, and you promptly splashed it over your face, hoping to no avail it would make you feel alive again. You glanced in the mirror, and like every day since you'd started living here, you wondered who the person looking back could be.

She looked nothing like you. Her hair was dyed and cut, her clothes baggy to keep her frame hidden, the eyes you used to carefully apply makeup to every morning dark and reddened by the contacts you even wore in bed out of fear. Where you had been joyful and witty, she was nothing more than a shadow people would pass by without noticing. And that's what you needed her to be.

The men after you were much more than the tormentors in your dreams. Even a child could tell you the yakuza was not to be trifled with, that all those who betrayed them would be found floating in the river with weights attached to their limbs, if they had any limbs left at all. But what most people didn't understand was that, sometimes, there was no one else to turn to than the Devil himself. You needed money, desperately, and they had provided what the state had refused to.

You poured some cereal into a bowl, counting the individual flakes as they fell from the box. They were a luxury you couldn't afford to overuse. There was no milk to let them soften in, and so you ate them dry, the texture impossibly tough against your teeth. You hadn't brought your phone or your computer when you ran; you weren't stupid enough to believe they wouldn't use them to track you down in seconds. Yet, as you stared at the wall facing you, the old flowery wallpaper ripped in a few corners, you wondered if your friends had sent you any messages this morning, like they used to do every day. Maybe, after four months of disappearance, they had given up on you.

Work took up most of your day. To the other tenants of the apartment building, you were the faceless caretaker who cleaned the floors and did the laundry, a young girl who had fallen on her luck and for whom the owner had kindly lent the unfinished flat on the fifth floor. You didn't mind cleaning; it kept your mind occupied, a roof over your head, and a disposable face mask over any of your recognizable features.

Sometimes, an older woman on the third floor would leave a pastry or two for you on her kitchen counter, as if you were a stray cat she was trying to domesticate. She had kind eyes, those who, once upon a time, you would have seen yourself trust with all your secret during an afternoon tea in her macrame-covered living room. But, for your sake and hers, you couldn't afford to get any closer to her. If, somehow, they connected her to you, you would both go through a living hell for a crime she had nothing to do with.

When you came back to your apartment, midnight on the dot, there was always a light wind going through the rooms, consequence of a broken window you were too scared to ask the owner to fix. You'd drink some water, eat if you could, brush your teeth, and find refuge from the cold under the thin blanket of your bed, hoping you might finally rest without being chased by invisible shadows. Yet every night was the same, the ghosts of men sent by the League to get you always running through your mind. It was an uncomfortable, but manageable routine, where every part of every day was identical to what it had been the day before.

Which was why when you stepped in tonight, at the same time, in the same way you had done for the last four months, you immediately knew something was wrong.

You took a hesitant step forward, feeling the lack of the familiar frigid draft against your skin. The room had never been so pleasantly mild and toasty, yet to you, it felt as though it clung onto your skin like fire to cloth.

From the looks of it, the intruder hadn't turned any lights on, or moved anything in the main living area. You listened to it, trying to hear any abnormal sounds from the rest of your home, but you were met with nothing but silence. Were they already gone?

Swallowing thickly, you tiptoed your way to the kitchen, grabbing the largest knife you could get to without opening the old wooden drawers. It wasn't much to look at, barely bigger than the palm of your hand, but maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to deter them from lunging at you first.

That left the bathroom and your bedroom. Weapon in hand, you made your way to the first, breath shakily coming out in reassurance when you found no one behind the ajar door. You made your way to the last room with a beating heart, mind playing a thousand scenarios in less than a second as you grabbed the handle with a sweaty palm. But inside, there was no one.

You let out a sigh of pure relief, feeling the tension in your body ease at the sight. The sweat had made your clothes cling to your damp skin, and you let your grip loosen on the knife, wiping your clammy hands against the fabric. Perhaps the owner had wanted to surprise you and repaired the window himself? You couldn't help but laugh out loud at how paranoid you had become, letting something as small as the wind put you into a frenzy.

"What's so funny?"

You turned around so fast the knife almost slipped out of your hands, and you almost fell as you fumbled to get it back.

Where there had been no one sat a man, legs crossed and resting comfortably on your makeshift sofa. Even sitting down, you could tell he was tall, much taller than you, a muscular chest visible under his dirtied white shirt.

"I don't know what you think you're doing here," you started, much less intimidating than you would have liked, "but you need to get out."

The man took a puff out of the cigarette in his free hand, eyes crinkled in amusement. His irises were blue, an unnatural, glowing azure that seemed to shine in the dark. It felt as though they looked right through you, into you, cutting open your flesh with their fiery stare like in the worst of your nightmares.

"Actually, I think you know exactly why I'm here, Mari Honda. Oh wait, that was your last one, wasn't it? It's Haruka Inugawa now. Or is it Betty Kaito? You'll have to forgive me, I got kind of lost in your list of fake names."

You swallowed with difficulty, the taste of bile coming up your throat.

"I don't know any of these people. Get out of here."

He took another puff of his cigarette, his unnaturally large smile never fading from his lips.

"C'mon, you really wanna play hard to get? What are you gonna do ?" he asked, amusedly throwing a look at the knife trembling in your hands, "Stab me ?"

"I will," you replied firmly, joining your second hand to hold the knife in an attempt to straighten it, "so don't get closer to me."

He hummed, licking his bottom lip. "You know, I really love doing exactly the opposite of what people tell me to do."

Slowly, casually, he raised himself up from the couch, stretching his limbs in mock boredom.

"Stay back !" you screamed.

"Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?" he mused, taking a step towards you. He was close enough for you to see his face now, although you wish you hadn't. What you had first thought to be shadows playing tricks on your eyes were scars, enormous, dark scars, wrapping themselves all around his skin like he had been burnt alive and brought back. Silver piercings covered the only parts of his body with clear skin, making him look like a makeshift, assembled doll of a man from a Frankenstein tale. "I told ya, I like doing what people tell me not to do."

He took another step forward, and you could smell the nicotine coming off his clothes, the odor nauseatingly filling your nostrils.

"Please," you begged, "I swear, I only left to get you guys the money, I really did, I have a couple thousand in the bedroom and I can get your more by the end of the week-!"

"Not good enough," he replied drily, dropping his cigarette to the floor and crushing it against the heels of his sole, the sound sickening. "I'm coming back with your entire debt paid, or with your body in my trunk. Your choice, princess."

Another foot forward, and he was within reaching distance of your knife, his patchwork chest of dark tattoos and scars barely a few inches away. The look he gave you was challenging, daring you to try and stab him, and knowing perfectly well you wouldn't. He was toying with you the same way a cat would play with the trembling body of a mouse, letting it believe it had a chance at escaping before ripping it to shreds.

Your grip on the knife was rock hard, your nails digging painfully into your palms in a desperate attempt to keep it steady in front of the intruder. He reached his hand up, so close to you you forgot how to breathe, and grabbed the blade of the knife with a sick smile. He tugged, once, with such strength you instinctively let go, yelping as you fell ass first onto to cold hardwood floor.

"Little girls shouldn't be playing with sharp objects," he touted reprehensively, observing the small knife, your last and only line of defense, now in his possession. "Aren't you already in enough trouble ?"

He seemed so much taller now, a gigantic dark mass looming over your huddled frame, two blue orbs in its center watching you squirm away until your back hit a wall.

"Give me a month, I beg you," you cried miserably, trying to appeal to the man's sense of pity. "I know I can get half of it by next month. I'm not- I won't run away this time, I promise, just a month !"

"And what's the word of a liar worth to me?" he replied, raising his foot to the height of your face. You shut your eyes close, feeling tears of fear desperately escape them as you braced for the pain of his boot crushing the side of your head.

It never came.

You hesitantly opened them back up, and he laughed, honest to God laughed, a twisted, raspy sound from the depths of his throat.

"Hey now, what kind of guy do you think I am ?" he snickered, visibly amused by your tear-strained face. He brought his hand to your cheek and you recoiled in panic, but he simply wiped a few droplets with his finger in faux tenderness, the grin of enjoyment never leaving his face. "I don't go around hitting beautiful women. Unless they ask me to."

He bent down to be at your level, his breath impossibly warm against yours: "And you're pretty beautiful, aren't you?"

His fingers kept trailing the beads of water on your cheeks, petting you like one would a frightened animal, as no sound dared to come out of your mouth.

"Hey, I have an idea," he whispered like he was about to tell you a secret. "Why don't we make a deal, you and me ?"

Part of you knew that he was most likely playing with your emotions, trying to get one last rise out of you before he broke you for good. But you couldn't help the hope in your voice when you asked him: "A deal ?"

"A deal," he repeated, the abused skin around his mouth awkwardly distorted by his smile. "See, the big boss isn't gonna be too happy if I come back and I tell him I just offered you an extra month for nothin'. And then it's my ass on the line. We wouldn't want that, would we ?"

You hesitantly shook your head negatively, hoping it was what he wanted out of you.

"Right," he hummed, pleased. "But if I come back and I tell him you already moved somewhere else before I got to pick you up, then neither of us is gonna be in trouble. And then, all you gotta do is get the money together before I pay you another visit in a month. How does that sound?"

Too good to be true. There was no compassion, no empathy in those eyes of his. There had to be a catch.

"What do I have to do ?" you finally asked, trying to look into his piercing stare without flinching.

"You don't have to do anything, baby. It's a deal, remember? You're free to choose what you want," he smirked.

But the reality was clear to both of you: between only dealing with him, and dealing with the entirety of the fearsome League, who had built their reputation leaving no opponent or traitor alive, there wasn't much of a choice to be made.

"I'll do it. I'll make a deal with you."

He didn't reply immediately; he didn't need to. The look on his face was one of pure delight, his eyes crinkled smugly. For the first time, you took a moment to observe him closer, noticing the faded trace of badly placed stitches that had never healed quite right along his jaw. He had to have been very handsome, once upon a time, his chiseled features still visible through the scar tissue. Had the League done this to him?

"Good girl. Smarter than you look, huh?"

In other circumstances, you would have frowned before promptly telling him to go fuck himself. But you had a feeling it wouldn't go over so well now, and that he likely had little interest in hearing about your degree.

"C'mon now," he smirked, tossing the knife he still held further away in the kitchen, the blade disappearing into the shadows. A weight you had almost forgotten fell off your shoulders, the knowledge that he didn't intend on using it instantly making you relax. "Gimme a show."

That caught you by surprise, and you looked at him hesitantly, unsure of what he wanted you to do.

"God, do I have to spit out everything for you?" he mumbled, a trace of genuine annoyance on his features. This wasn't good. You couldn't afford to get on the bad side of your only lifeline, but what could he mean by-

Oh.

You felt your cheeks redden, and his smile came back, pearly white teeth shining in the dark. You nervously tugged at the edge of the oversized sweater, the cheap fabric catching in your nails. If you were wrong about this, you'd humiliate yourself in your last moments alive on Earth. But if you were right...

As if you were ripping off a bandaid, you tugged off your top in one rigid swoop, bundling the fabric in your lap and looking away in a last-ditch attempt to preserve your modesty.

"There we go," he whistled appreciably, his eyes so carnivorously going up and down your chest, you could feel their heat through your skin. "The pictures on your file didn't do you justice."

Pictures? you thought worriedly. What kind of pictures? How much information did they have on you?

His fingers ghosted over the delicate skin, tracing but not quite touching, and he looked at you expectantly.

"Y-you can touch..." you mumbled under your breath.

"See? You're getting it now," he smirked.

You didn't expect the intense warmth of his hands, the skin there untouched by the havoc that had been wrecked on the rest of his body. The way he kneaded your breasts like dough was impossibly pleasant, the first human contact you had had in months, and if you leaned into his touch, well, you'd just ignore it. The man, however, was not so kind as to do the same, a shit-eating grin dancing on his lips as he kept toying with your chest.

"Must have felt alone for a while, right sweetheart? It's practically criminal to have tits like yours and keep them hidden away like that."

He punctuated the last sentence with a rough tug on one of your nipples, and you covered your mouth in surprise when a small moan escaped your lips.

"Fuck, yeah..." the man said under his breath, his eyes never leaving the way your breasts bounced gently against his hands. "You're lucky the big boss didn't decide to pick you up himself."

"Why?" you managed to mumble, biting your lip to prevent any more embarrassing sounds as his fingers insistently twisted your nipples.

"'Cause you look exactly like those girls he likes in the porn games he plays all day. Nice, fat tits," he trailed on, digits moving to your stomach "and a pretty little waist to hold on to."

You tried to imagine the leader of the biggest gang in Japan as some sort of shut-in gamer; in any other circumstances, the idea would have made you laugh.

"I'd tell you to get up, but I think you look real good on your knees," the man interrupted your reverie as he rose smoothly, a firm hand guiding you closer to his lower body. You felt a tinge of panic as he held your head clutched to his jeans, the dark fabric visibly stretched around his crotch; were you actually doing this? An impatient tug at your hair confirmed it for you:

"C'mon, open this up for me. I don't have all night."

You hesitantly tugged at the zipper, guiding his member out of its confines before swallowing with difficulty.

He was big.

Not so much thick as he was long, very long, a row of metal loops piercings adorning the veiny underside almost all the way to a pulsating, bright red head. You couldn't help a small 'oh my god' as it slipped through your lips, cursing yourself internally as the man laughed at your bashful words.

"Yeah, you're not the first one to call me that. In my off time though, I go by Dabi, princess."

Dabi, you thought, glancing away from the thick cock to look into his flaming eyes. What a strange name. For someone who had ridiculed your bank of fake names, Dabi sure sounded like the alias of someone who didn't want to be found.

He nudged it against your cheek insistently, the tip almost rubbing your bottom lip.

"Open up," he simply said, and against all sense of better judgment, you obeyed.

If it had felt already warm through the fabric, his cock was hot inside your mouth. The member pulsated in your mouth like lava, the feeling of the metal piercings refreshingly cool in comparison. You took more of him in, looking up to gauge his reaction, and he grunted in approval, pupils fluttering. For as much as he mocked you, he clearly hadn't gotten any physical touch in a while, too: his grip was so firm in your hair it hurt, and the low sounds he let out through grinding teeth as you started moving up and down his shaft told you everything you needed to know.

"Fuck yeah, baby... you do this to every guy who comes here for cash? That how you're so good at it ?"

As an answer, you gave him a peculiarly indignant suck along a large vein and he almost stammered before catching himself, biting his own already damaged lip to the blood.

"Let me- fuck, let me try something, ok?"

You mumbled an inaudible 'ok', your mouth still impossibly full of him, the vibrations noticeably making the muscle of his tights tighten. In an instant, the few inches of him you hadn't taken inside to give yourself space to breathe were shoved roughly inside your throat. You choked in surprise as he used your face with abandon, pointedly ignoring your weak attempts at protesting. Whatever pretense of fair play he went on earlier was gone, the sight of tears of exertion in your eyes seemingly only making him carve himself deeper into you.

"Yeah, that's the shit, that's it baby girl!"

You couldn't breath, the strength of his trusts knocking any air straight out of your lungs. You were starting to feel dizzy; if it wasn't for the possessive hold in your hair, you might have simply fallen down. Soon, your vision got wobbly, and only the feeling of the metal ring on his cock scraping your throat and of heat pooling between your legs seemed to remain. You couldn't help but let out a muffled, broken cry around him when his pace suddenly sped.

"M'gonna cum," he groaned, the words barely registering in the fuzziness of your mind. "Better be ready, I ain't doing it anywhere else but in you. Gonna make you swallow all of it, little fucking slut-!"

Warmth filled your throat, the taste salty and acidic, but you swallowed it all, his pistoning cock still overfilling your mouth. When he finally pulled out, you gasped in relief, the air painfully filling your lungs.

Dabi let out a small sigh; of contentment or dissatisfaction, you were too busy remembering how to breathe to care. One of his hands left your hair and pried your mouth wide open, a digit scoping around your tongue purposely. It occurred to you he was trying to see if you had swallowed all of him, and you felt strangely embarrassed at the thought.

"I'm n'ot a sl'ut," you managed to say in between the fingers inspecting your mouth.

He pulled them out, seemingly satisfied with his inspection, before popping them into his own mouth, licking the saliva off with mock gusto.

"Might wanna look up that word in the dictionary again, princess. Pretty sure your name is next to it, now."

He nonchalantly tugged himself back in his pants before he pushed your abandoned sweater closer to you with his foot. That's it? A little voice in your head asked before you quickly shut it down. Of course that was it. It was a business transaction, nothing more, one that had just saved your life.

"As promised, you get a month to find us the cash. Not a day more. I'll be back for you the second your timer runs out.."

His warm hand tugged at your chin, forcing you to look right into his burning stare.

"So you better not try to escape again, baby."

You straightened your back with as much pride as you could, maintaining the eye contact.

"I won't."

He let go before heading to your window, pushing its previously broken hinges open. He climbed on the windowsill with the grace of a cat, dark hair melting back into the shadows he had first emerged from.

"Dabi ?"

He looked back, seemingly surprised to hear you call him by his name. Against the night sky, his eyes blazed a shimmering blue, and for a second you let yourself be transfixed by their unnatural glow.

"Thank you. For the deal."

He smiled without a word, that cocksure, daunting grin you knew would now fill your night terrors, the shiver of an unknown emotion running through your veins at the thought.

And with that, he was gone, no sign of the intruder left in the apartment except for your half-naked form, on your knees on the kitchen floor, and one perfectly fixed glass window.

#This work is actually not the one I had planned to publish first for my grand comeback #but it kind of wrote itself before I had a chance to finish what I had originally planned #hope you enjoy !!!#please check AO3 for warnings and tags ❤#dabi x reader #my hero academia #bnha #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki x reader #im planning about 3 chapters for this one 💕

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