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#dabi x you smut
dabisqueen · 5 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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kelin-is-writing · 1 year
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being the touch starved person he is, every moment for dabi is a chance to touch you and feed off of the endearing way you just can’t help but blush at his warm and soft caresses across your cheek or the silent whimpers whenever he slides the back of his index down the side of your neck or even better, when his hand brushes against your thigh or waist making you straighten up your back all hot and bothered.
that has him smirk satisfied with himself, because he has you exactly where he wants: you longing and yearning for him.
then he suddenly has you pinned down on that worn out couch of his, after you held him back from leaving when he had squeezed briefly your thigh giving you a knowing stare, his lean figure hovering over your small one as he gazed down at you darkly before bending closer to your face and sinking his onto the side of your neck, leaving a long open mouthed kiss on the spot under your jaw making a sigh come out of your parted lips and that was enough for him to be all over you.
one of his hands holding tight your wrists above your head while the other fondled your breast as the tip of his dick teased the entrance of your pussy, before he pushes his lenght deep inside of you and the next thing you know you’re moaning his name over and over as his hips keeps slapping sharply against yours while he groans against your cheek, cerulean eyes fixed onto your face to not miss any small detail of the expressions you make whenever he hits that soft and spongy spot inside your quivering cunt.
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http-tokki · 2 years
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okay so this one might be a bit of a stretch but…
dabi is obsessed with the idea of breeding you. he is obsessed with the idea of creating another todoroki who comes from dabi not endeavour. it’s the biggest fuck you he can think of beside becoming a villain and destroying everything enji loves. well it starts off as that, but as he keeps fucking you full, seeing how happy it makes you when he finishes in your sloppy cunt. how good you’ll look all round and perfect, carry his baby. ughh the thought alone has his cock hard. so he keeps cumming in you, every time he fucks you, holding your hips down to fill you up.
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yanderenightmare · 5 months
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TW: NSFW, yandere, f!reader, bondage, abuse, punishment, intense spanking/whipping-ish
gn reader
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“Please- plea- m’so- sorry-” You sob, voice cracking on its own blubbering. Chest full of panic – heaving for a fix but achieving little less than spurring even more hysteria.
“Haah…” He sighs. Casually fixing your bonds tighter around your wrists, hoisting them a little higher above your head until you were properly stretched up on your tippy-toes.
Shivering in just your undies in anxious wait of his anger.
Stroking your back while holding your belly in a steady hand, he thinks he’s never felt fear quite like it, but unfortunately, “Y’broke the rules, Sunshine… and now yer’ gettin’ punished.”
He unbuckles his belt. Your eardrums burn at the crisp sound, so much spiked blood rushing about, making you go dizzy. 
You think you might pass out.
“What did I say the rules were, hm? ‘You remember ‘em?” He mumbles in a steady tone, speaking awfully softly with his lips pressed against your temple. Waiting for your answer.
You give a sob and a pitiful nod, and he hums in return, rubbing calm circles into your shivering, goose-fleshed skin.
“Recite them for me.” He requests, nose rubbing your hairline as you shiver from his touch.
Voice unsteady, filtered through tears and a hopeless sense of terror – chin tipped up, needing to gasp for breaths. “N-no fighting, no- no arguing, no run- running-”
“Mh…” He hums, taking in the scent of your shampoo with a sniff of your crown, placing a kiss there as though in kudos – or as a small mercy before getting started. “And you managed to do all three in one night. ‘You feel proud, hm? ‘You feel accomplished? Hm? Was it worth it?”
You whimper under the interrogation, feeling smaller and smaller by the second – so exposed where you are, practically hanging from the ceiling like dead meat. Stripped of everything that might’ve protected you – or that would have at least cushioned the coming onslaught of pain you knew to dread.
“Nah… it’s written all over your body. Goosebumps and cold sweat, shaking from tits to toes. You regret it, don’t you?” He murmured, winding his belt around his fist once, then twice, leaving a looped tail. “Mh, maybe you’ll think twice about it next time... or maybe you’ll finally learn your place.”
He finished with a soft bite to the chub of your cheek, then grabbed your chin just as gently, holding your face up to look at him as he sidestepped to your front. Leaning his forehead against yours, he stroked your jaw with his thumb – lips hovering just short of yours.
“I'm gonna hurt you, Sweetie.” He purred, stroking your asscheek with the cool leather in his grip – in such gross contrast to what you knew he planned on using it for. “I promised I would, and now I will…”
He kissed your lips then – slowly, sweetly – suffocatingly so as you cried – tasting your tears and doing a terrible job at withholding his grin as you felt it pull giddily at the corner of his mouth.
He licked his lips once he pulled away, walking a circle around you like a shark.
“How many hits do you deserve?” He mused. “I guess one for each rule you broke is fair, but it seems a little scant…”
He stopped behind you, placing a chaste kiss on your arm before nuzzling around it.
“Should we say thirty?” He offered, and your eyes immediately widened.
Shaking your head furiously, prayers already coming out in splutters. “No- please-”
“No? Too many?” He pouted, not bothering to mask his glee now. “Okay, okay, calm down, baby. Breathe.” He soothed with no effort. “I think…”
There was a pause – a hum of thought as he wrapped his arms around your front and swayed you back against his chest in a hug.
“Ugh fuck, I'm no good makin’ rules on the fly…” He feigned - sinking his jaw into the grove of your armpit before cuddling the soft flesh with his chin-stubble.
He sucked his teeth in a further display of thought before releasing an exasperated sigh.
“I really didn’t think you’d break ‘em, y’know? I thought you’d be a good pet…”
You trembled, eyes looking down at the belt held between his big hands – whimpering at the sight of him simply playing with it – psyching you out like a true sadist.
“But you just had to disappoint me, didn’t you?”
You bit your lip to stop a sob.
“Had to be difficult… and now I gotta make difficult decisions…”
He slinked off you, leaving you to wobble – toes barely grazing the cold basement floor.
You try your best to prepare yourself for the next events, but the more you brace yourself the more tense you get and the harder you cry. “Please- I’ll be good- promise- m’real- really sorry-” 
“I know, baby. I know~ I am, too.” He coos, kissing your spine while rubbing circles into your sides – feeling your ribs rattle with sniffles, struggling for air through your panic. “I wanna make sure we never have to be sorry again.”
He wraps an arm around the front of your hips, steadying you while stroking the loop of his belt over your plump cheeks – tentatively teasing the soft flesh with what was soon to come.
He licked his lips at the promise – already imagining the flawless flesh blooming with his marks.
“I think thirty is fair.”
“No- no please- please, don’t-” You thrash – but do so little more than in place.
“Don’t squirm.” He interrupts, his hand curling into your hip with blunt nails denting the fine skin, keeping you still, pushing your side snugly against his front – holding you intimately while gruffing out eerie murmurs still much too softly for what he was saying. “Remember, it’s another ten hits if you fight me and another ten if you argue.”
At least he doesn’t make you count....
You wouldn’t have been able to even under threat – too busy wailing.
Each hit like the lash of a whip, smacking you fast, one on top of the other. It’s enough to make you throw up after half of it – though it's mostly just water and acid.
He takes pity enough to allow you a small break. Wringing off his wife-beater and wiping your mouth with it – also brushing some of the sweat off your brow before kissing your forehead. 
“Halfway there, Sweetie- you’re doing so good~”  He whispered soothingly, holding your cheeks to pick your face up from hanging – looking into the hopeless look of your opium-blown eyes – so lost he didn’t know if you could even hear him.
He acts as though he’s sorry after, but the boner he’s got nudged against you doesn’t lie – desperately dry-humping your thigh for some sort of relief.
His breaths are tight and hot, puffed against your arm where he now mouths wet kisses. “Good-” He swallows thickly, brows tight-knit, voice thick with lust. “Good pet.”
You hadn’t noticed he was done. And the relief doesn’t register either. There isn’t much comfort in it to grasp, not with the pain still so numbingly intense that you can’t feel anything but the raw sting. 
He drops the belt to the floor and struggles his fly open, shoving the trousers down along with his boxers, stepping out of the heap in a rush – all the while sucking sloppy kisses on your shoulder and nape, mumbling praise. “Y’were so good- so good fo’me- gonna reward yah- my good fuckin’ baby- gonna make yah feel so fuckin’ good now-”
The flesh of your ass burns with welts and split skin, ugly marks already lining the once-pretty color with horrid shades of bruise-dark. Your throat’s ripped raw from all the wailing – only weeping harder when he takes your hips and sways you back to meet his fat erection.
He shamelessly rubs himself between your cheeks – frenzied with his mouth gaping, releasing a filthy shuddering moan while leering at the beautiful sight of his handiwork – feeling so proud he was blushing just from sheer sadistic enjoyment – even letting slip a breathy laugh now.
He hung his tongue out and let his drool drip onto the shaft, then placed another kiss between your shoulder blades. Gliding his tip down and, with the help of a hand, pushed it between your cheeks until it caught your entrance. 
A rugged groan blew hotly down your spine, and another cry was ripped from your chest as he sunk inside without a single spare second to waste.
He laid his face to rest against your back, nudging up inside you slowly with both arms wrapping around you like before – holding you snugly before he began the intimate pace, fucking only the deepest coziest parts of you.
“I love you, Sunshine- you’re mine- only one I give two shits about- rest can just fuck off for all I care- as long as I have you- right here… forever.”
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BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul, Aizawa, Todoroki
JJK – Toji, Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Sukuna, Naoya
HQ - Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Sakusa, Suna, either Miya twin
BLLK - Isagi, Reo, Kunigami
DS - Doma
CSM - Aki
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neurthotic · 5 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 · 9 months
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EREN, GOJO, GETOU, TOJI, DABI
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sinfulpanda16 · 2 months
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He Loves Loving You
Before you, his sex life were mainly hookups that always involved her facing away. He did not care at all about eye contact or passion it was just a way to help himself relieve stress.
But then he met you and now all he wants is to make you feel good and loved. He likes having you in the missionary position where he can look at your beautiful features and see how good he can make you feel. Soft little kisses here and there, sometimes your foreheads would touch, you had a way of making his soft self come out. Thats not to mean he's lost touch with his rough persona, sometimes he fucks you in the most heinous positions and at rough speeds, but there's love that's what changed. There's always love in your intimate encounters.
And you always feel so good. Fuck you drive him nuts. He doesn't know what the hell he did to deserve this but with you its like heaven on earth. He loves loving you.
Nanami Kento, Gojo Saturo, Toji Fushiguro, Dabi, Bakugou Katsuki, Eren Yeager, Tooru Oikawa, Kuroo Tetsuro, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi, Shouei Barou, Shuji Hanma, Mikey, Baji Keisuke, Tetta Kisaki, Frederick Arthur
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kleftiko · 1 year
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❦ TITS, ASS, OR THIGHS?
cw: mature, fem!reader
JJK VERSION | BLACK CLOVER VERSION
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—shigaraki
hardcore tits man. big tits? squeeze them into a tube top. medium? push up bra galore so they can sandwich his face. tiny? your nipples through a small tee has him DROOLING. man just loves himself some tits. wants to suck on them like the mommy issues man he is.
—hawks
ass is his favourite pillow. i know because of his wings, he probably sleeps on his stomach—so ass pillow. easy. aside from that? tight dresses. you’re going out? he’s standing behind you like a bodyguard to scare off everyone and waiting for you to back your ass up into him when you dance.
—aizawa
thigh highs and a skirt are the perfect frame for the art that is your legs. garters? lace? fuck it just have those pretty things squeezing the life out of his head. he would die a happy, happy man. he wants his fingers digging into them when he drives too, slowly going higher.
—dabi
smacks your ass like a drum. doesn’t even look up when you scold him for hurting you, just admires the jiggle. leaves bite marks when you fuck too. i mentioned before that his favourite position is doggy and i was RIGHT. shameless pervert too, just loves ass.
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headintheclouds-posts · 9 months
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🔞 MDNI FemReader OptionalMale
“Be a good girl and stay quiet, I don’t want us getting caught”
As usual, any event you were both invited too ended up with you hauled up in the nearest empty room devouring each other. It was something about the way a suit clung to his body that made you want him to take you at any given moment.
So here you are hoisted up onto the bathroom sink at your friends birthday party, making out with your husband as his fingers attack your entrance.
He quickens the pace of his fingers in your hole, the squelching sound of your wetness is barely heard due to the pounding music outside the door. He quickens his pace, matching his slender digits with the beat of the house track playing.
He continues to whisper praises in between kisses as you tighten your walls around his fingers, waves of pleasure building up inside of you.
“That’s my girl, cum for daddy” he growls, knowing your body reacts to his commands. Ripples of pleasure satisfy you as you unravel in his arms, whimpers and rasped praise leaving your lips.
Soon you’re back at the party, face flushed from the recent escapade. You look over to him, he’s talking to a friend and smiling as they discuss old memories.
At a glance he looked normal, nothing out of the ordinary…but if you really looked, you would see the drying wet patch on the lower part of his white shirt from where you squirted all over him, and the way he occasionally brings his fingers to his lips, the same fingers that were deep inside you not too long ago.
What people wouldn’t know is the unsaid promise you can see in his eyes, the promise that says it won’t just be his fingers making you see stars later.
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Not my best, so I do apologise.
Also comments and reblogs make my day ♥️
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dabislittlemouse · 4 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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dabisqueen · 6 months
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trick or treat
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Trick or Treat
Ghost/Dabi x fem!Reader x Konig/Shigaraki
⇢ word count: roughly 3.2K ⇢ plot: It's Halloween and you make the mistake of knocking at the wrong door.  ⇢ warnings: Minors DNI, tw smoking, consensual rough sex, rough kissing, rough manhandling, a bit of degradation, slapping, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, cum in throat, unprotected PIV-sex, anal fingering, deep creampie, Ghost and Konig aka Dabi and Shiggy are actual sweethearts and take care of the reader later ⇢ A huge shoutout to my beta @blankexpressions-and-falsefires. without you, this wouldn't happen. without you, this wouldn't be as great. i am forever grateful for your help!
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You and your friends were on your way to a Halloween party, which was going to take place in an old warehouse. The invites had been distributed months ago already, and everyone had been looking forward to it. 
What you were wearing wasn't very unique at all: Black high-heel boots combined with a short, ruffled red velvet skirt, a black petticoat underneath, and a matching red underbust corset. It pushed your boobs up so high that they nearly popped out any time you bent over. Thankfully, a white, off-shoulder blouse helped to keep a little bit of your decency intact. The last finishing touch was a red velvet cape. 
You guessed it—you'd picked the Little Red Riding Hood as this year's costume.
Getting off the subway station, your group walked down the dimly lit street, the wind blowing leaves and scraps of garbage along the street. The clacking sound of your high heels echoed off the walls and you wrapped your cape tighter around you and hoped that the warehouse would offer some shelter from the cold. Trying to avoid the cracks in the concrete with your pointy heels, you followed the rest of the crowd—as something off to the side caught your attention. 
A lone, lit pumpkin sat at a shabby door, a flickering lamp above it shedding just a bit of light.
“Hey girls!” you called out. “There's someone inviting trick-or-treaters over here!”
Your friends stopped and looked at the door you were pointing at. Nonetheless, they turned while your best friend called over “It's just a prank, forget about it!”
“I want some candy, though.” Pursing your lips into a pout, you stalked over to the other side of the street, calling over to the rest of your small crowd, “Go on ahead. I'll catch up to you later!” 
You didn't mind them rolling their eyes at you—cause you have been known to have the sweetest tooth of them after all.
Taking a deep breath you raised your hand and knocked on the door. Once. Twice.
No answer. 
Okay, you reason, it was just a prank. Just as you were about to turn, you heard voices closing in behind the door.
"Didn't think anyone would fall for this shit.” A dark voice hissed. “What kind of dumbass are they?"
"Beats me." Another husky voice spoke.
The door swung open and you inhaled sharply. Before you stood two men dressed head to toe in combat suits, one of them wearing a sniper hood, the other a Balaclava complete with a hard plastic skull attached to the disguise. 
Each of them was a character from the game Call of Duty– Konig and Simon “Ghost” Riley. 
The one dressed as Ghost casually leaned against the door frame. His eyes scanned over you, and your gut tightened, watching the brilliant cerulean of his irises take you in. His skull Balaclava, obscuring any other feature on his face, sent chills down your spine. The other's smoldering amber gaze grazed the curves of your body and lingered especially long on your décolleté before stopping back at your face. As far as you could make out, they both looked well-toned, and your gut instinct told you that they were stunningly attractive underneath those masks. Your heart started beating faster.
“Oh, look what we have here.” The man dressed as Konig mused in a sneering tone. “If it ain't Little Red Riding Hood.”
“What a coincidence—" his friend chuckled, his voice low and husky. "Cause you can consider us the Big Bad Wolves—”
It sent goosebumps crawling up your spine,  but you still bravely muttered with a shaky voice, “T-trick or t-treat?”
Konig and Ghost looked at one another, chuckling, before their gazes went back to you. 
"You really looking for a treat, little red?" Ghost cocked his head, brilliant blue seemingly burning into you.
Both men's lustful stares were unmistakable as they looked at your body with a desire mirroring the feeling that rose quickly in your chest.
"U-uhm, I guess?" You stuttered, heat rising into your ears now.
“Treat it is,” he said. With that, his strong fingers circled your wrist and he pulled you inside, Konig slamming the door shut behind you.
A shriek left your throat when he pressed you against the wall, his ghostly mask hovering right in front of you.
"You really want this?" He asked, tilting his head, "We'll only proceed if you do."
One hand propped him against the wall, the other trapped your jaw between thumb and forefingers. His hips wedged you in place and it sent a jolt of pleasure right between your thighs. You shamelessly squeezed them together, cheeks starting to glow with fear—and excitement.
"I-I don't know," you licked your lips as subtly as you could, and you could swear you felt him twitch in his pants. 
His eyes fixated on your lips as he pulled the Balaclava down from beneath the skull, tucking the fabric under his chin to reveal the lower half of his face. His lips alone, sharp and sultry, had you aching for more.
"I think you do," Ghost chuckled, his warm breath fanning your lips, the hard plastic of his mask almost brushing against your nose. His fingertips felt scorching yet delicate when he pulled you in for a kiss.
His tongue pushed past your lips, moving languidly around yours. The kiss turned raw and bruising, growing rougher by the second. His cold mask dug into your skin but the thrill of it all made you forgive it easily. Groaning into his mouth, your hands ghosted over his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his clothes. Your legs buckled, but Ghost was quick to react and slip a leg between your thighs to hold you in place. His firm thigh pressed right against you, delivering much-needed friction to stimulate your growing desire. 
“Fuck,” he breathed out, half-lidded eyes smoldering with desire when he broke the kiss. He pulled the Balaclava back and straightened up, chuckling at the sight of a wet spot left on his pants. "You really love this, don't you?"
You nodded hazily. You were given no chance to catch your breath as he dragged you to a small, square table nearby. His grip was rough but gentle enough not to hurt you. You shrieked again when Ghost pressed your chest flat against the surface. Konig stepped close, his hand stroking the heavy and full shape of the growing bulge beneath his clothes. Ghost clasped his hand tightly around your wrists, pinning them against your back, holding you down. 
“P-please be gentle,” you pleaded, having seen both outlines of their dicks —not small in size—  strain against their boxers, ready to be strangled by your tight pussy.
"Don't be a chicken. You agreed to this.” Konig rasped. “So, we get to destroy you, corrupt your little pussy—" 
Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and your heartbeat started to pick up as you struggled against Ghost's iron grip.
"Aw, don't scare our little bunny, Shigaraki" Ghost tutted, stroking your back with his free hand. "We aren't gonna hurt you, doll."
Something in his voice made you feel like you could trust him — you felt that he meant it — and your body relaxed, your breath evening out.
"Party pooper–" Konig grumbled behind his hood, as he rounded the table to stop right in front of your face. 
"W-what are you gonna do to me–" You swallowed thickly, thrill shooting through your body in a rush of  adrenaline. 
“You want us to be gentle,” his voice suddenly deepened, “Or should we treat you like the little tramp you are?” 
“I am no tramp—” you replied breathily.
“Hm— Am I wrong to think that this turns you on?” Ghost chuckled. “The idea of getting fucked by two strangers just like this?” 
Ghost's hand trailed up your thigh, hiking up your skirt and petticoat to reveal the curves of your perfect ass cheeks. A growl erupted in the back of his throat at the sight, his hand stroking the soft skin he found there. The coil inside your stomach tightened as you felt his crotch grind against you from behind. You realized he was giving you a small taste of just how much of a treat you would be getting. Trying to push yourself back against his thick meat, though, earned you a harsh slap against your ass with his tactical leather gloves.
“Ow!” you cried out, the stinging pain driving tears to your eyes.
"Fucking lay still." Ghost growled and you instantly froze at the sheer authority in his tone, a hot pulse shooting straight between your legs.
He leaned over, whispering against the shell of your ear. "So, little Red, what's it gonna be for you?”
Your lips parted in a strangled whimper. You didn’t want them to be gentle. You didn’t want them to be respectful. This was thrilling, you've always dreamed about being roughly taken, about being manhandled. 
“Fuck me, please.” You pleaded.
“It's Sir to you!” Ghost slapped you again, the pain searing this time.
"Yes—Sir—treat me like your cumdump!” You choked out, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes.
"Atta girl." He purred and you could almost hear the amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 
Ghost pulled your soaked panties down until they dangled between your ankles and dropped to the floor with a wiggle of your heels.
"Why do you always get to use the pussy, Dabi?" Konig whined, annoyed even as he unzipped his combat pants.
"Cause you only know how to fuck, boss." Ghost chuckled behind you. "Not how to please."
You swallowed thickly, feeling your heart beating so fast.
His hand gently stroked your ass again as he hummed. "This is supposed to be a treat after all."
A sense of comfort washed through you but you knew better than to rely on it. And oh boy, were you right.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded, moving to stand in between them as you eagerly complied.
Konig freed his hard cock from his pants. It was so thick and heavy that it was hanging low even though it was fully erect. 
"Open up. I’m gonna fuck your face," giving it a few lazy pumps, he closed in on your face. His shameful words sent electricity to your nerves, and your mouth started to water as you opened it in eager anticipation.
Konig slipped the fingers of his free hand into your strands, holding your head still as he slotted himself at your lips before pushing his length between them. His spongy tip quickly slipped in and he let it rest on your tongue for a brief moment before pressing deeper.
Groaning against Konig's cock, you barely made out the sound of a zipper being undone behind you. Ghost lined up his cock with your soaked cunt, gathering your slick on his spongy tip, and only then was it that you knew that this really was going to happen. He snapped his hips forward without warning, quickly hitting resistance. 
The force pushed you down on Konig’s length further until its tip hit the back of your throat. He was breathing hard, bucking his hips forward, loving the way you loosened your jaw and let him fuck your mouth.
The man behind you slowly started thrusting into you, the metal barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder continuously stroking your insides, his Prince Albert piercing kissing your cervix and making you tighten and flutter around him. Each time he pulled out, his cock was covered in more of your glistening juices.
“Ah—fuck—look at that dripping cunt—” Ghost growled, rocking his hips against your behind, watching how your greedy, sloppy pussy kept taking him, even if he could only fit halfway.
They filled you up so perfectly—Ghost’s thick, pierced cock stretched your whole pussy without getting close to being balls deep, Konig’s heavy one sitting deep in your mouth, his fat testicles slapping against your drool-covered chin with each thrust forward. A gargled moan bubbled up your throat, feeling so stuffed from both ends, with Ghost's piercings rubbing perfectly against the spot that made stars erupt before your eyes.  
Goosebumps erupted all over your body as your mind began to swim.
"Aw, are you enjoying yourself?” Ghost leaned forward. "We'll make you feel even better soon...”
Then he started pounding into you, again and again until your brain was shut down. You choked between gasps as every thrust he made knocked the air from your lungs and forced Konig’s cock to slide deeper than before– until it was buried deep down your throat. You struggled to take it, breathing heavily through your nose, pleading watery eyes shooting up to his face to silently beg for a second of reprieve. 
"You look so beautiful, stuffed with my cock like this–” Ghost said in a voice that was just a low rasp. 
You were dizzy, breathless as he kept filling up your pussy with short, harsh strokes. He watched you writhe in pleasure on the table, your sloppy mouth stuffed with Konig’s dick. Ghost bent his head down and you could feel his breath on your neck as he inhaled your scent. 
"You're taking both of us so well, little cockslut." Konig's words made you whimper even louder, glistening eyes meeting his as you struggled to breathe.
With Ghost’s hand still pinning your wrists behind your back, there was no escaping the assault. He slammed his hips harder against your pussy until you mewled out in pleasure, his piercings rubbing your g-spot just right.
The feeling of both men relentlessly working themselves in and out of you was overwhelming. Heavy grunts and growls accompanied the wet sounds of your sloppy holes getting fucked as they worked themselves into a frenzy. Ghost's cock drove deep, but you knew with a little effort, you could accommodate more of him. You parted your legs further to give Ghost even more access to your cunt. His dick began to throb and twitch, his hips bucking back and forth to find the perfect angle to thrust into you. 
And he did find it. Your body shook with pleasure, making you squeal deliciously around Konig's length. Ghost let out a breathless chuckle and spread your ass cheeks, wetting his thumb before sticking it into your puckered hole.
His friend watched the scene before him, half-lidded crimson eyes glazed with lust and desire. The sight before him turned him on so much that his hips stuttered and he came without warning. He let out a strangled groan, his hand grabbing your hair tightly as he forced you to take his entire length, his tip slipping past the back of your throat. You moaned, feeling him twitch on your tongue, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you. His free hand rose to massage your throat, savoring the way you gulped and swallowed around his twitching meat.
“That's it, baby, take every drop of his cum," Ghost praises you. "Fuck– you're such a good girl.” He looked down to where you two were connected, his thumb buried deep in your ass, a sticky wet mess covering the base of his cock.
You tried to breathe but Konig didn’t budge, staying buried deep inside of you as Ghost picked up the pace now. He gave you strong thrusts that grazed the right spot, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. You moaned, your vision turning blurry. The lack of oxygen, the continuous onslaught from behind— it was too much. it pushed you over the edge and you came, clamping around his dick while your sounds of pleasure remained muffled by Konig's cock still buried deep inside your throat. 
Ghost kept pounding into you while you rode out the high of your orgasm and finally, Konig pulled his softening cock from your mouth, letting you sputter and gasp for the air he'd denied you. He let himself fall back against the table behind him, his flaccid, drool-covered cock still massive in size and twitching slightly. Reaching out, he pushed your hair behind your ear before wiping off the saliva dribbling down your chin as you frantically gasped for air.
Ghost behind you kept up the pace, rutting his thumb in and out of your little pink hole in a contrasting beat to his thrusts. It became too much— you completely lost it, overstimulated and moaning unabashedly like a porn star now. Your cunt spasmed around his cock for a second time and you threw your head back in ecstasy, crying out through your climax.
“There you go, you're so fucking hot coming for us, doll." Ghost praised, continuing to rock his hips against yours. His deep thrusts grew messier and messier, being himself close to his release. 
Konig watched, eyes glowing with re-awakening desire as he tucked himself away.
"I'm gonna fucking cum inside of you." Ghost let out with a low growl in his throat, sending goosebumps along your body. “Gonna fill you up, gonna breed you so good—”
He gained speed and with a final snap of his hips, he groaned out loud when he came, his hips stuttering as he shot ropes of hot cum against your womb. You could feel his cock throb with each shot, before he plummeted forward, breathing heavily. His chest pressed against your spine, and you felt his semen seep out, dripping onto the floor below. Silence took over the room while all of you tried catching your breath, hair sticking to sweaty foreheads, cocks sticky with release. 
Ghost started chuckling, pulling out of you with an obscene pop. His eyes were still glazed with desire as he watched how your pussy struggled to contain the load of his release. "You look so damn pretty filled up with my cum." he said with a hidden smirk as he kept pushing it back into you with his fingers. 
He stepped back to tuck himself away, and you stood back up on wobbly feet, brain foggy from the orgasms. Carding your fingers through your messed up hair, you reached for your panties but Ghost was quick to grab and stuff them into his pant pocket.
"Nu-uh," he tutted, his brilliant azure eyes twinkling with mischief. You sighed in defeat, trying your best to smooth down your skirt.
He pulled his balaclava down, slid his hand into his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes, and lit himself one. Taking a deep drag, he exhaled slowly. “So, what were you doing here anyway?”
“I was on my way to a Halloween party with my friends.” You coyly replied, carding your fingers through your hair. 
“Ya still wanna go?” He cocked his head, smoldering azures taking you in.
“What do you mean?" You looked up at him through thick lashes, still damp with the heavy tears that had sprung from your eyes in the struggle to keep down Konig’s cock.
“What Dabi wants to know is if you wouldn't rather continue our little party.” Konig snickered.
“Oh.” Was your simple reply. 
“C’mon doll, let's get ya cleaned up," Ghost pressed a kiss against your forehead. "In the meantime, Shigaraki is gonna get us some  drinks.” 
He swung an arm around your shoulder, leading you toward the door next to the dimly lit bar on the far side of the room. “We still have more treats for you…”
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Happy Halloween and thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you comment or reblog, you'll make my day!
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http-tokki · 2 years
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Tou-ya?
~ dabi x fem! reader ~ tags/cw: mha spoilers! explicit language, smut, best friend dabi, friends to lovers, dabi has a monster cock confirmed. Not proofread ~ wc: 1.7k ~ "You can call me whatever you want."
"Touya?" The name feels foreign on your tongue as you repeat it. "Tou-ya"
Dabi sits across from you, legs crossed and hands in his lap, watching you process the information he has just thrown at you.
"Todoroki?"
His nod is slow. "Yes. Touya Todoroki"
You mirror the nod, eyes squinting as your mind races to connect the dots. "As in the Todoroki's?"
"As in Endeavour," Dabi, well now Touya, confirms.
The bed shifts as Touya moves closer to you. He inches forward through the sheets until his knees touch your own. His scent engulfs you; vanilla and mint fill your head, and you find yourself leaning into his space.
A slender finger taps against your temple. "You okay in there?"
"Yeah, I'm just trying to figure out why- how." You stutter, your brain unable to work fast enough to process the new information.
There wasn't any record of Dabi in the Todoroki family files. A file of all the children had been opened under Enji's overarching folder, yet there hadn't been anything indicating there was an older offspring. No birth or death certificate, no school forms, vaccination records. Nothing. You had poured over those documents, had scoured them clean upon the revelation of Enji's mistreatment of the youngest. How could you have missed a whole person?
"You're not going to find anything if you look. Enji erased everything," Touya explains as if sensing your growing confusion. "I don't exist."
Your eyes flick up to meet his. There is no sadness or regret, no hint of emotion within his cerulean eyes. Teeth sink into your bottom lip in hesitation, wanting to press for more answers but afraid to open old wounds.
"I can see you thinking about it, and I don't want to talk about it, okay?"
You’re shut down before you can make a decision.
"I just have one question."
"I might have an answer."
"Why Dabi?"
"Real answer or cool answer?" He asks, smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.
You hum at the options before picking the third. "Both?"
A muted chuckle leaves your friend at your indecision. "Cool answer; it sounded like a cool villain name and was short enough to fit on a T-shirt." he pauses and looks away from you. "Real answer: it means cremation, and I wanted my dad to figure out it was me if it ever got out."
The strings of your heart snap at the mention of his father.
"Well…" you start undecided on the direction the conversation will take. "I think it'll look great on a T-shirt with you standing there in that one cool photo the press got of you, you know the one?"
You opt for the lighter of the two.
Touya grins, relief sweeping over his body in the way his shoulders sag forward. He was ready to open old wounds for you. Willing to sit as you pulled out each stitch to reveal the gaping hole that sits in the centre of his chest, but thankfully, you didn't want to rip him open.
A breath is taken by the both of you as you wiggle closer, knees pushing further into his.
"So, can I call you Touya now?"
Touya is stunned, blinking at you with confusion at the request, and you take his silence as an opportunity to close the gap between your bodies. Rising to your knees, you shuffle across the mattress and make room for your body to slip into his lap. Your friendship had been teetering on the verge of romantic for months now. Hugs had grown longer, hands lingering at each other's waist as you smiled goodbye, bodies pressed against one another as you walked through crowded rooms, his arms wrapping around your waist instead of your shoulder while pulling you into conversations with his friends. Casual contact that you would think nothing more of had it not been coming from Touya, the man who stared at you wherever you went, gaze following the lines of your body before coming to rest on your lips. The lines had blurred the other night. In your arctic apartment, Touya had slipped in behind you while you shivered in your freezing bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and hauling you against his body. Heat bloomed from within your core, warming you from the inside out, but it was the searing kiss he had pressed to your shoulder that had your blood boiling. He whispered a goodnight against your skin before his breathing turned even and his body grew heavy with sleep. You didn't move, too afraid to wake him from whatever state he had fallen into, but by the next morning, when you awoke tangled in each other, there was no mention of the kiss. So you left it. Left your simmering blood to boil over until your skin was red raw.
Touya watches carefully as you perch yourself in his lap, thighs slipping open to slot against his hips, and only when you're seated, ass carefully placed over the seam of his pants and your arms around his neck, does he smile.
"You can call me whatever you want." Touya croons, tongue running over his teeth as you get comfortable in his arms.
"Whatever I want?" You confirm, lips pursing in contemplation.
His answer is a low hum. Large hands grab at your hips, fingers digging into the plush flesh that sits along your bones and uses the leverage to shift his hips to slot under yours.
"Sound good, angel?"
The pet name clocks you from left field. Your fingers slide into his hair, pulling on the locks at his nape and tilting his head up to meet yours as you hover a few inches taller than him, the advantage given to you by the seat in his lap. You feel him harden beneath you, pushing against his sweats and into your covered cunt, and heat fills you again. It rushes through your veins and settles deep in your gut.
Touya ghosts his lips over your throat, teeth grazing before nipping at the thin skin. Your hiss is involuntary, but it is the rut of your hips over his that has his mouth venturing higher.
"Do you like my name, princess?" he teases. "Wanna know what it'll feel like in your mouth when I'm fucking you?"
The breath you take in is far too shallow to bring any oxygen to your swimming head.
"I- Touy- uhh-" your mind scrambles for a coherent sentence, but his mouth on your jaw has it short-circuiting.
He still hasn't kissed you yet, so when a hand moves from your hips to your face to grab at the fat of your cheeks, your heart is racing. Touya's mouth hovers over yours for a second, smirking as you whine at the lack of contact, and only when you mutter out a breathy please does he kiss you.
A mess of teeth and tongue, you can barely open your mouth fast enough to devour the man before you. He tastes of menthol cigarettes and bubble-mint gum, and in any other scenario, you would have grimaced. However, here, with Touya finally kissing you, you were smiling into the kiss.
"Wan' you 'n me" you slur as he kisses down your throat, hips grinding over his hard cock. You're dripping for him, already soaking through your panties and tights. It's sticky and hot and messy, and you're aching for him, need him to slip into you, to fuck you open on his cock.
"Say that again, baby. I need to hear you say it." Touya implores. Hands slipping over your body to reach the waistband of your pants.
"Want you in me, Touya, need you." you whine, pulling at his hair as you feel him struggle with the elastic.
"Rip it." you suggest, not caring for the flimsy material keeping you from what you want most.
He doesn't need to be told twice as he takes either side of the gusset of the pants in his hands and pulls until there is a hole big enough for him to slide into. What follows is not at all graceful as Touya's shaky hands reach for his own waistband, pulling it down just enough to pull himself out. He halts all movement, waiting for your permission before he crosses the line. You're begging before he can ask the question, pleading with your friend to take your friendship and throw it out in favour of something more fulfilling.
Touya's fingers wrap around his aching cock, precum pearling at the tip and for a second, you're scared. Intimidated by the size of him, unaware your friend had been packing that in his pants, but that fear is replaced by the need to have him in your mouth, heavy and hot on your tongue as he fucks your throat. He presses against your sopping cunt, sliding up to nudge at your clit before tapping against your entrance. He pushes in, groaning as your cunt swallows him, squeezing him to the point where he thinks he might pass out.
"Good girl," he praises, holding your hips still as he slides further. "You're doing so fucking good, angel."
You blush at the praise, hiding your face in his neck as you feel the burn of being stretched out, feel him bottom out and nudge against your cervix. Touya pulls back, but you stop him with a hand to his jaw.
"Gimmie a second, Touya," you whisper, fingers splaying over scarred skin as you adjust to the full feeling. "Need'a sec"
Touya presses a kiss on your cheek. "Take as long as you need, baby. I'm not going anywhere."
--
Touya never gets tired of hearing his name fall from your lips. Your gentle calls to him in the morning as he wakes up, how annoyed you sound when he comes home bruised and broken, how it sounds like a blessing on his soul when you tell him you love him, but his favourite has to be the way you moan it. With his cock buried within you, bartering your cervix over and over again, pulling strangled and breathy moans of his name from your swollen lips. How you cry his name as you cum, clenching on his throbbing cock. The sound of his name on your tongue makes him hate the nameless.
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imagxnin · 21 days
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jealous! men . . . who will pound their big n' fat dick inside of you at an inhumane speed all while recording.
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"fuckin' love this pussy . . makin' me jealous, hm ?"
he would say while pounding his girthy length in and out of your pussy, one of his hands holding his phone as he recorded all of this, planning of sending this to the man who even dared to interact with you . . .
"nghhh . . . s-slow down-- ah!"
the sentence alone made him go faster than before, squeals and moans escape your mouth, the pleasure overwhelmed your body oh-so greatly, your body felt so overstimulated and weak compared to your boyfriend . . . :(
even when you pleaded him to stop because your pussy was aching, he knew it felt good, so he didn't stop for one second, even through orgasm. he just loves you so damn much he would bully his dick inside of you all day if you wanted, even if your body couldn't take it . . .
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GOJO, SUKUNA, TOJI, SUGURU, DABI, HAWKS, AIZAWA, SANEMI, KOKUSHIBO, KIBUTSUJI, ANY OF YOUR FAVS . . .
938 notes · View notes
joonipertree · 6 months
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Sadistic men who grin wide when you tell them "it hurts :(" "it's too much!" "Too deep."
They push your leg up higher, spread you further and push in deeper till you're crying pretty tears. It only makes their thrusts harsher.
And they ask you to stick your tongue out, only to berate you for looking like a dumb bitch, for moaning through it. Telling you're perverted and messy and only meant to be a cocksleave.
Sadistic men you don't want to make angry. Because it's different to be bratty and have them settle you, it's another for you to fuck up.
They're slapping your pussy and ass till they're red, no relief or care for where it lands. They're putting a wand against your pussy and stopping it right before you cum. Over and over and over again until you're losing your sanity and crying from how frustrated you.
"Fucking say that again."
Slap
"Look me in the eyes and say it."
You apologise, mumbling out "I'm sorry, daddy" and begging him to go easy on you.
Sadistic men are my favourite
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chosaya · 7 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
2K notes · View notes
inkykeiji · 3 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. 
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