#Dabi Fic

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, riding c*ck, doggy style, creampie, oral (f & m receiving), dom!Dabi, Dabi is a warning himself, overstimulation, mentions of dick piercing

Synopsis: you decide to surprise your villain boyfriend with a uniquely sinful way to celebrate his birthday

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

You never imagined love would come so easily — let alone with a villain. As a pro hero, it was the last thing you expected, yet here you were, your heart defying everything you thought you knew about right and wrong.

A grin spread over your lips as you heard a familiar knock to the door of your spacious apartment — three short taps, slow, deliberate, and unmistakably his. You smirked, barely having time to smooth your silky robe over your skin before crossing the spacious apartment. Opening the door, you leaned casually against the frame, giving him a slow once-over. 

Dabi stood there, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His turquoise eyes scanned you, a spark of interest flickering when he caught the way the silk clung to your curves. “Mmmm, look at ya, all dolled up. What’s the fucking occassion?” Dabi mused. “You expecting someone else, or am I the lucky guy?”

“You know damn well you’re the only fucking one,” you shot back, tilting your head with a sly grin as you raised a brow, feigning innocence as your fingers toyed with the sash of your robe. “Happy birthday, Dabi,” you murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

“Nice place,” he commented, his tone lazy as he stepped in. It was his first time in your apartment. “Didn’t think a pro hero like you would invite a villain into her fancy, little world.”

You shrugged, closing the door behind him. “Consider it a birthday gift. I figured you’d prefer this over balloons and cake.”

“Depends on what’s under that robe,” he shot back with a chuckle.

You grinned, backing up into the open living room, deliberately letting the silk fabric shift over your ass as you walked. 

His eyes darkened, and you felt the heat of his gaze lingering on your body. 

Turning to face him, you reached for the tie of your robe, holding it loosely in your fingers. “Want your present now, Mr. Villain?”

Dabi chuckled, “If you’re offering, Mrs Heroine.”

With a slow tug, the robe slipped off your shoulders, pooling on the floor around your feet. 

Dabi’s reaction was immediate — his smirk vanishing, replaced by a sharp inhale through his teeth.

You were wrapped in black lace, the intricate set hugging your curves in all the right places - a barely-there bra and tiny panties that revealed more than they should. 

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the crimson ribbon tied snugly around your waist, the delicate bow resting just above your navel. 

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. “Didn’t think you’d actually dress up for me, doll.”

“You like it?” You teased, turning around so he could see the way the ribbon trailed over your hips.

“Like it?” He stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a few long strides. His hands found your waist, his thumbs brushing the edge of the lacy bra as they moved upwards. “You’re making it really hard not to rip it off right now.” His hands found your hips soon, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against the softness of your skin. He tugged on the ribbon lightly, watching the fabric stretch and tighten before letting it snap back. His smirk widened as you gasped. “You naughty, little slut,” Dabi murmured, lowering his head to kiss the column of your neck. He tugged at the material of the ribbon again, the fabric slipping loose in his fingers.

“Hell yeah I am,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the heat pooling low in your stomach.

He gripped  your hips as he pulled you flush against his chest, his breath was hot against your ear when he growled, “I’m gonna do some dirty things to you tonight.” Dabi’s mouth crashed into yours, his kiss fierce and consuming, leaving no room for hesitation. 

You tangled your fingers in his white, unruly hair, pulling on it. Before you could respond after the kiss was broken, he hoisted you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carried you to the nearest surface. He dropped you onto the couch, his hands braced on either side of you, his smirk returning as he took you in. Dabi’s knee slid between your legs, spreading them just enough for him to slip a hand beneath the lace of your panties. “Mmmmm, fuck. Already so wet,” he muttered, his smirk audible in his voice as the rough pads of his fingers rubbed little circles around your slick folds.

“D-Dabi…” You whined softly.

Dabi shrugged off his coat, tossing it aside before leaning down to claim your lips again. His kisses were hungry as his fingers kept on rubbing your pussy sill covered by your panties. 

When he broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva still connected your lips, glistening in the dim light of the lamp that was set in the corner of the room. Dabi’s piercing gaze dropped to you, a wicked smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. His fingers found the waistband of your lacy panties, tugging them upward with a slow, deliberate motion. The fabric pressed tightly against your slit and clit, the friction sending a sharp jolt of sensation through your body. 

You arched your back, instantly rolling your hips. “H-hey, not fair!” You whined.

Dabi’s smirk deepened as he tugged the fabric again, the pressure drawing another soft gasp from your lips. His eyes flicked back up to your face. “Who the hell told you I’d play fair?” he asked simply. 

Before you could muster a response, he repeated the motion, dragging the damp fabric slowly against your sensitive clit with maddening precision. Each tug sent sparks shooting through your core, your breath catching as pleasure curled deep inside you. 

He watched every flicker of pleasure crossing your face with growing amusement. “That’s it,” his eyes dropped to the growing damp stain on your panties, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Look at that. You’re already soaking through.”

He tugged the fabric taut once more, holding it firmly in place this time, just long enough to admire the way your folds glistened, slick and inviting. His smirk darkened, a predatory gleam lighting his sharp turquoise eyes as his free hand slid up your thigh with deliberate slowness, fingers brushing over your trembling skin before settling on your hip. “You like this, don’t you? Me not playing fair?”

The gravelly edge in his tone combined with the insistent pressure of the fabric against your throbbing clit left you breathless. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something solid as your legs spread wider to grant him better access. With a shaky nod, you managed to meet his gaze, your voice barely a whisper as you confessed, “Yes.”

"Good," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low, gravelly promise. "Because I’m just getting started."

With a sudden shift, his hands gripped your legs firmly, hooking them over his shoulders with ease. In one smooth motion, he tugged your panties down your thighs, the cool air kissing your bare skin as he slid them off completely.

He straightened slightly, holding the delicate fabric in his hands, inspecting it as though it were a prized trophy. His eyes, sharp and half-lidded with desire, flicked to you, a wicked chuckle rumbling in his chest. Without hesitation, he brought the panties to his face, inhaling deeply. “You smell fucking delicious,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust.

You felt your cheeks turning red.

Dabi shoved the panties into the pocket of his pants, his smirk curling higher as his gaze locked on your face. “Mine now,” he teased, his tone low and rough, every syllable dripping with possession. “Gotta keep a souvenir.”

Dabi wasted no time, his movements deliberate as he spread your legs wide, his grip firm on your thighs to hold you in place. He paused for just a moment, his piercing eyes meeting yours with a look that sent a shiver racing through your body. Then, without hesitation, he leaned forward, his head dipping between your legs.

The first stroke of his tongue was slow and broad, dragging over your folds with unrelenting precision. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the heat of his mouth sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, your legs instinctively tensing against his hold. 

Dabi alternated between teasing, languid strokes of his tongue and hard, deliberate suction on your clit, each movement drawing out a symphony of soft moans and ragged breaths from you. Every lick, every kiss, every brush of his mouth was calculated yet feverish, as if he was intent on tasting every inch of you. “Doll,” he murmured against your slick skin, his voice low, “You taste even better than I imagined.”

Heat pooled low in your belly as your hands gripped the couch cushions tightly, your back arching instinctively to press your pussy closer to his mouth. Every nerve ending lit up under his touch, the tension in your body coiling tighter with every flick of his tongue and every groan that rumbled from his chest.

His moans vibrated against you, a low, guttural hum that sent shivers racing up your spine as his tongue swirled expertly around your clit before flicking it in rapid, teasing strokes. 

The faint scrape of his staples and scars against your inner thighs only heightened the sensation, a sharp reminder of the dangerous man holding you completely at his mercy.

There was no reprieve as his fingers joined the fray, one calloused digit sliding into you with ease. He curled it upward with deliberate precision, finding that spot inside you that made your breath hitch and your pussy tighten around him. He smirked against your folds, his satisfaction palpable as he drew out another desperate sound from your lips. Without hesitation, he added a second finger, stretching you just enough to leave you trembling. His movements were unrelenting, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with a steady rhythm while his mouth never left from your clit.

“Dabi…” you whined, rolling your head back.

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t ya, doll?” he rasped, his smirk growing as he watched your body arch toward him, trembling with the mounting pleasure. 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, diving back in with unrelenting fervor. His tongue and fingers moved in perfect synchrony, crafting a rhythm that had your entire body taut with anticipation. The wet, obscene sound of his fingers plunging into your soaked pussy echoed through the living room, mingling with your breathless moans and the deep, satisfied growls rumbling in his throat. “Come on, princess,” he rasped, his voice a dark, velvety whisper that sent shivers straight down your spine. His lips brushed against your slick skin as his fingers curled just right, his tone dripping with wicked intent. “Cum for me. Let me feel you fall apart.”

Your brain was barely working at that moment. Your hands moved on their own, sliding upward to cup your breasts, desperate for any outlet to channel the overwhelming pleasure. Your fingers teased the stiff peaks of your nipples through the delicate lace of your bra, tugging and pinching lightly as sparks of sensation shot through every nerve ending. Your hips moved of their own accord, lifting and lowering in perfect time with the relentless pace of his tongue and fingers. 

Dabi’s tongue moved with relentless precision, circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the couch. The rough texture of his tongue contrasted perfectly with the slickness covering your folds.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growled against your skin, his voice low and ragged, dripping with satisfaction. “Keep moving like that, doll. You’re gonna come so fucking hard f’me.”

Unable to ignore the ache any longer, he shifted slightly, grinding his crotch against the couch in search of some relief. The bulge in his pants was painfully tight, pressing hard against the rough fabric of his jeans. But he didn’t stop — his focus stayed firmly on you. The sight of your trembling hands teasing your own body, the way you gasped his name like it was the only word you knew, only made him rut harder against the cushion, his breaths coming in shallow, broken gasps. He kept on lapping fervently at you, completely consumed by the taste of your juices.

Your hips bucked wildly as the tension inside you reached its breaking point, your breath catching in your throat as your thighs trembled against the sides of his head. 

Dabi’s tongue moved with relentless precision, flicking over your swollen clit in rapid, teasing strokes.

“Dabi—” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips in a desperate cry as the pressure shattered into an overwhelming wave of bliss. Your back arched off the couch, your head tipped back as your orgasm crashed over you, unrelenting and all-consuming. Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers, the slick heat drawing a deep, guttural groan from him that vibrated against your sensitive core.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice rough and dripping with desire. His tongue slowed, lapping gently at your clit as he worked you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last tremor until your body sagged against the cushions, spent and trembling.

Dabi finally pulled his fingers from your soaked heat, moving with an agonizing slowness that made you shudder. He watched intently as your pussy fluttered at the emptiness, his turquoise eyes darkening with wicked satisfaction. Spreading your folds with his index and middle fingers, he exposed the glistening mess he’d left behind, your juices trailing down to your entrance. A low, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest as he tilted his head, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. “Look at this,” he muttered, his voice a husky growl, thick with smug satisfaction. “You’re dripping everywhere. So fucking pretty like this, little heroine.” Without hesitation, his tongue darted out, tracing the path of the slick, runny juices that spilled from you. He dragged it slowly, deliberately, over your entrance, savoring every drop like it was the finest thing he’d ever tasted. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” Dabi whined, his voice low and rough, vibrating against your sensitive skin. He kissed your pussy again, his tongue flicking over your clit in a teasing caress before he added with a wicked grin, “But what a fucking way to go.”

You were a moaning mess beneath him. And you loved every second of it.

“You taste too fucking good,” Dabi growled. He flattened his stitched tongue, dragging it slowly over your folds. His calloused fingers spread you wider, holding you open with a firm grip, ensuring not a single slick thread of you escaped his attention.

The overstimulation caused your body to twitch beneath him. “Dabi!”

When Dabi was satisfied with his work, he began a slow, deliberate ascent up your body. His tongue left a cool, damp trail on your overheated skin, sending shivers coursing through you as goosebumps rose in its wake. His lips lingered over your trembling stomach, pressing teasing kisses before moving upward. He paused at your chest, his sharp teeth grazing along your ribs with just enough pressure to make you gasp softly.

Finally, his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was nothing short of ravenous. His tongue slid against yours, deep and commanding, and the faint taste of your own release on his lips sent a wicked thrill through your being.

Your hands moved instinctively to his belt. The faint clink of the buckle was lost beneath the sound of your ragged breathing. Your fingers worked deftly, unfastening the fly of his pants. The moment you freed his cock, it sprang into your hand, heavy and warm as you wrapped your fingers around his length. Your palm moved in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing every vein from base to tip. 

His response was immediate — a deep, guttural groan rumbling from his chest, his head tipping back slightly as your touch unraveled him.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice a low rasp that sent heat pooling in your pussy again. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

At the same moment, his hand slid beneath your back, his fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He tugged it off your shoulders and tossed it aside without a second thought. His mouth latched onto one of your nipples, the warmth of his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak before he sucked hard, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. His other hand claimed your other breast, his thumb brushing teasingly over the neglected nipple before giving it a light pinch, just enough to make you arch against him.

The combination was electric, his hot mouth and calloused, skilled hands setting every nerve in your body alight. The pleasure coursing through you was so overwhelming that your grip faltered briefly on his cock, your strokes pausing as your focus splintered.

“Don’t stop,” he commanded against your tit. “Keep going.” To emphasize his words, he flicked his tongue over your nipple again, the teasing motion sending another jolt of heat straight through you. His teeth grazed the sensitive bud before biting down gently, just enough to make you gasp again.

Your head tipped back in surrender.

Without missing a beat, he moved to the other tit, his lips and tongue lavishing it with the same relentless attention. 

Your strokes on his length quickened, your hand gliding smoothly from base to tip with deliberate intent. Each motion pulled a raw, guttural groan from his throat, the sound vibrating through the air like a melody only you were meant to hear. 

His hips began to move in time with your touch, rolling into your hand as if he couldn’t help himself. “You’re driving me insane,” he rasped, his tone a low, gravelly whine. “I don’t know how the hell you do it, but fuck, I can’t get enough of you, you little slut.”

With a surge of determination, you shifted your weight, using every ounce of strength to roll with him. 

The sudden movement caught him off guard, his eyes widening briefly before his back hit the couch.

Now straddling him, you looked down, a satisfied smirk curling your lips as his expression shifted to one of wicked amusement. Dabi's hands slid instinctively to your hips, gripping them firmly as he murmured, “Well, look at you, taking charge now. Let’s see what you’ve got, sweetheart.”

You didn’t waste time with a reply, your actions speaking louder than words as you tugged his pants down his legs with purpose. The fabric slid away, pooling forgotten on the floor as your hand moved to wrap firmly around the thick base of his cock. It pulsed against your palm, a tangible reminder of just how undone he already was. You started with slow strokes, your grip tightening just enough to coax a reaction. 

It didn’t take long — his hips twitched instinctively under your touch, a low, strained groan escaping his lips as his body responded to your every movement.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his voice rough and shaky, his half-lidded gaze locked on your hand as it worked him over. “You really know how to take your time, don’t you?”

You gave him the sweetest smile, leaning forward to spit on the tip of his cock. Jerking him slowly, you spread your saliva all over his shaft.

His smirk faltered into a low groan.

Shifting to kneel between his thighs, you leaned down, stuck your tongue out, and flicked it against the sensitive tip of his cock after pushing the foreskin back, gathering the bead of precum that had already formed there. The salty taste of him on your tongue made you moan, and Dabi’s sharp intake of breath only spurred you on.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and ragged, one hand gripping the edge of the couch while the other reached for your hair. His fingers tangled in the strands, not to control you, but as if he needed something to anchor himself. “Now, suck my cock, angel.”

Smirking to yourself, you opened your mouth and took him in slowly, letting your lips stretch around his girth. The groan that ripped from his throat as the warmth of your mouth surrounded him was enough to make your pussy clench. You moved with intention, starting with shallow bobs that teased the head of his cock before gradually taking him deeper, your tongue pressing firmly along the underside of his shaft, teasing the palpable veins there.

“Shit,” Dabi hissed, his hand tightening slightly in your hair. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you, the sight of you on your knees between his legs, your mouth working him over, nearly undoing him, made him shiver. “You’re gonna make me lose my goddamn mind, doll.”

Dabi’s cock twitched in your mouth, and you hummed around him, the vibrations drawing another curse from his lips. Using the tip of your tongue, you teased the frenum piercing that decorated his cock, and then you took him whole in your mouth, deep-throating him, letting the tip of his cock tease the back of your throat.

He cursed again.

You began to pick up your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper with every stroke, your tongue swirling around his girth. Your movements became more deliberate, your lips sliding down his length with increasing fervor. Your tongue traced the pulsing vein along the underside, each flick and swirl drawing ragged groans from Dabi as his hips began to snap upward, chasing the heat of your mouth.

One of your hands cupped his balls, rolling them gently in your palm while your other hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking in time with the bobbing of your mouth. 

“Fuck, doll,” he growled, his voice strained, his chest heaving as he watched you. “You’re too damn good at sucking cock, you fucking, little slut. Gonna make me lose it.”

You hummed around him, the vibration pulling another curse from his lips. His cock throbbed against your flattened tongue, a clear sign he was close. You kept your pace steady, wanting to draw him to the edge, relishing the way his body responded to your every touch.

But just as you felt him begin to tense, his breathing turning ragged, Dabi pulled you off him with a sharp tug on your hair. 

You gasped softly, your lips slick and swollen as you looked up at him, his darkened eyes blazing with lust. “Not like that,” he rasped, his voice dark and commanding. “The only place I’m cumming tonight is inside that tight little pussy of yours.”

You didn’t hesitate, nodding as you sat back, giving him room to shift. His hands were already on you, pulling you forward until you were straddling his lap again. “You want it, don’t ya?” he teased, his voice low as he grabbed your hips, guiding you just enough for you to feel the tip press against your slick hole. “Say it. Tell me you want me to fill your cunt up.”

“I want it. I want you to fuck me senseless,” you whispered in the most seductive voice, making sure to grin your pussy against his cock.

His smirk returned, dark and satisfied as he lined his dick with your entrance, pulled your hips down slowly, his cock stretching you inch by inch as he entered you. A low, guttural groan rumbled from his chest as he sank into you, his grip on your hips tightening. “Good girl,” he muttered, his head tipping back as he buried himself completely inside you. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Dabi!” You moaned at the sweet sensation of being stretched. Reaching hand out, you gently rubbed his cheek. “I love you.”

Dabi didn’t say it back. He never did. Instead, his hands gripped your hips tighter, his half-lidded eyes locking with yours as he rolled his hips forward in a slow, deliberate thrusts. 

The stretch of his girth was overwhelming, your body trembling as a low groan escaped your lips. 

“If you can’t handle it,” he rasped, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, “leave it to me. Snuggle up, doll.”

His hand slid up your back, guiding you until your face was buried in the crook of his neck, your warm breath brushing against his scarred skin as you lay flat on top of his chest. You clung to him, your nails digging lightly into his shoulders.

Then he started thrusting.

The first thrust was sharp, knocking the air from your lungs, and before you could recover, he set a punishing rhythm. His hips snapped upward, driving into you with a force that had you gripping him for dear life. The wet sounds of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by his low, guttural grunts.

“You feel that?” he growled, his lips brushing your ear as his cock slammed into you again, the tip kissing your cervix with every stroke. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Each thrust stole the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. Your pussy clenched around his cock, every movement dragging his girth against your velvety walls in a way that sent sparks shooting through your nerves.

“D-Dabi!”

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he stated, his voice a rough groan as he buried himself deeper, his pace unrelenting. “You’re taking me so well. Like you were made for my cock.”

Your hands slid up his shoulders, your nails scraping against his skin as you held onto him. You couldn’t moan, couldn’t speak, your body reduced to incoherent shivers and gasps as he fucked you with ruthless precision.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Falling apart already, huh? Guess I’ll have to keep this pace until there’s nothing left of you.”

His hips drove into you harder, the angle perfect for his cock to penetrate your pussy deep.

Your face pressed tighter into his neck, your entire body melting into his as he took you apart piece by piece, leaving no part of you untouched by his desire.

Suddenly, with a shaky inhale, you finally found the strength to lift yourself. You began bucking your hips against him, moving up and down with an intoxicating rhythm. 

Dabi’s hands gripped your waist, his calloused fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave bruises. “That’s it,” he rasped, his voice low and strained, filled with barely restrained hunger. “Show me what you’ve got.”

You shifted your weight, bracing your hands on his ankles for support. Arching your back, you began moving faster, slamming your hips down on his cock. “Shit, shit, shit, oh fuck!”

His dick twitched and swelled inside you, the girth rubbing against your spongy walls in a way that made your head spin. 

Dabi’s breath hitched as he watched your slick arousal coat his length. “Look at ya, so fucking greedy for my cock.” His sharp eyes locked onto you, his chest heaving as he watched the way your pussy sucked his cock, on and on. His cock throbbed inside you, overstimulated from holding back earlier.

Your hips rolled with a purpose as you chased your high. You shot a hand out to rub your clit. 

But Dabi wasn’t one to let you have all the control. With a sudden growl, he grabbed your waist and yanked you off him, flipping you onto all fours. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he aligned himself with your stretched entrance, and without warning, he drove back into you.

The force of his thrusts was relentless, his pace faster and harder than before. Each snap of his hips sent shockwaves through your body, his cock hitting deeper with every stroke. 

Your pussy clenched rhythmically around him.

“Shit,” he growled, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna make me fucking lose it.” His head tipped back, a groan ripping from his throat as your walls tightened around him, squeezing him like a vice. 

With one of his thrusts, your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. Your arms gave out, your body collapsing onto the couch as your walls clenched rhythmically around his cock. “Dabi!! Fuck, Dabi!”

He didn’t slow down, his movements became erratic, his movements desperate as he chased his release. “Fuck,” he growled, his grip tightening on your hips. With a deep growl, Dabi buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing violently as he came. Warm spurts of his hot seed filled your pussy. His head tipped back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as his hips stuttered against you, his climax leaving him trembling.

Your pussy clenched around him again, milking him for every last drop of his cum as if your body didn’t want to let him go.

Even after he came, Dabi thrust a few more times, his cock pulsing inside you as he emptied his balls completely. 

Your body quivered beneath him, your legs useless as you lay flat against the couch, still reeling from the intensity, trying to catch your breath.

Finally, his movements slowed, and he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as he caught his breath. His lips found the space between your shoulder blades, planting soft kisses along the line of your spine before trailing up to your neck. Slowly, he pulled out of you.

You whined at the emptiness. With a swift motion, you rolled to your side, and he shifted to join you, his body settling into the space beside yours.

You lay facing each other, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating his sharp features. 

His turquoise eyes, usually so guarded, softened as he watched your flushed face. In a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “I love you too, doll.”

@pixelcafe-network

[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ DISTRACTIONS ! - dabi/toua todoroki / 10.03 / kinktober

CW: exhibitionism, teasing, dabi being stubborn, fingering, stimulation, "public" sex, shigaraki finding it entertaining, female anatomy, she/her used, petnames, they're trying to not get caught, modern au where the lov are roommates

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: hey guys! welcome to the second kinktober post of october! i hope you enjoy reading. ily all sm. leave a like or reblog to show support!

dabi sat on the couch, completely absorbed in the movie playing on the screen. his eyes were glued to the action, barely blinking as the plot unfolded. y/n, however, wasn’t nearly as interested. she leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, her mind wandering as the minutes ticked by.

she glanced at dabi, his sharp features bathed in the soft light from the tv. he seemed so engrossed, almost oblivious to her presence, his hand resting lazily on her thigh. smiling to herself, she shifted closer, her lips brushing against his neck in a gentle, teasing kiss.

he hummed from her touch, still focused on the movie, but y/n wasn’t about to give up that easily. she kissed him again, a little slower this time, her breath warm against his skin. dabi’s jaw clenched slightly, but he kept his eyes forward. she smiled to herself knowing exactly what she was doing, and let her lips trail lower, nipping lightly at his collarbone.

"you’re gonna make me miss the best part," he muttered, voice low, though he didn’t sound too convincing.

y/n laughed softly. "like you care," she whispered, her hand sliding up his chest as she continued to kiss him. he finally turned his head toward her, eyes darkening as he shifted his focus from the screen to her. "you’re a distraction, you know that?" he said, though the small smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

"good," y/n replied, her lips brushing against his again, this time catching his mouth. dabi responded instantly, his hand tightening on her thigh as he kissed her back, any attention on the movie long forgotten.

before long, the movie was just background noise, and their kisses grew more intense. y/n climbed into his lap, the soft hum of the tv forgotten as they lost themselves in each other. dabi’s hands roamed up her sides, pulling her closer as they sank deeper into the couch. "the others will be back soon, you know?"

"mhm, but you started this so don't go rushing now." he muttered against her lips. just as y/n leaned in to kiss him again, they heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

y/n froze, her lips barely an inch from his, her breath caught in her throat. "they're back," she whispered, eyes wide.

dabi didn’t seem the least bit concerned. instead, he let out a low chuckle, his hands still firmly on her hips. "yeah, and? we still have a couple of minutes." his lips curled into that familiar, cocky smirk.

y/n tried to sit up, but dabi held her in place, refusing to let her go so easily. "touya—" she started, but he cut her off, raising an eyebrow.

"you really think i'm just gonna stop because of a car?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "let 'em walk in. maybe they'll get some pointers." he shrugged. y/n’s mouth dropped open, a mixture of disbelief and amusement crossing her face. "you’re impossible," she muttered, shaking her head as she tried to read whether or not he was being serious.

he shrugged, clearly unbothered. "what can i say? i’m a man of commitment. we finish what we start." he let himself crack a smile and y/n rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but feel a small thrill. "you’re going to get us caught."

"you say that like it’s a bad thing." his smirk only grew wider, his hand sliding up her back as if daring her to keep going. "besides, i doubt they’ll walk in right away. they're probably going to be busy unpacking their precious groceries in the kitchen first."

y/n glanced toward the kitchen that openly connected to the living room, nerves and excitement twisting in her stomach. it only heightened when he unpinned her bottoms. "touya. no." she said, holding his wrist to stop his movements. "yes. you have a problem to fix…that you also caused." he defended, slightly moving his hips and y/n felt the aftermath of their kiss growing between his legs. "later, touya. jokes aside this is actually crazy." she huffed.

he shrugged and gave her a smile. "okay." he said simply. that made y/n feel even worse. such a plain and simple answer with no reluctance at all. he spun her around on his lap, having her now sit between his slightly spread thighs and her back against his chest. the sound of distant footsteps could be heard, and y/n noticed when he reached for the nearby throw-blanket.

he covered both he and y/n's lower half before his hand rested beneath the waistband of her bottoms, completely still. y/n knew that lack of motion wouldn't last for long given his tone that held some malicious intent. "since you want to be distracting, i can do the same."

before y/n could speak, his hands trailed down inside of her bottoms. "we're back!" twice said, entering the livingroom with compress and shigaraki in tow. y/n gave them a nod of acknowledgement while dabi remained silent, eyes focused on the tv. they each took seats around the living room and y/n physically cringed when the unoccupied space beside she and dabi was taken by none other than shigaraki himself.

"what movie you guys watching?" shigaraki asked, pulling his phone out from his pocket. clearly he wasn't interested in it since he shifted his gaze to the brightened screen of the device.

"s-some horror film that just came out a f-few days ago." she managed to say. dabi was trailing his fingers up and down her clothed sex and the sensation was so unbearable. the fact that the other three of their friends were in the room, just a few feet, even inches away form them made her hyper-aware of everything that made contact with her. his fingers trailing her sex, his hardened length pressed against her lower back, the way his lips were just a few centimeters from the shell of her ear.

shigaraki hummed at that and silence fell over them. twice was quietly conversing with compress, the sound of the movie slightly overshadowing the details of it. under the blanket, dabi’s fingers gave up on the teasing motions and instead, shifted the fabric to the side completely before gathering the slick that leaked from her sex. y/n gripped dabi’s forearm, desperately trying to slow his movements, but it was no use. if she fought with anymore effort, curious eyes were bound to figure out what was going on beneath the blanket.

his digits made slow side to side motions and crescent shaped indents were being pressed into dabi's skin by y/n's nails. the tingling pain of these didn't put him off at all. infact, it only drove him more. he wanted to see how much y/n could take given her determination of trying to not let their friends find out just what exactly they were doing. his slowed movements sped up and she bit down on her bottom lip so hard that a metallic taste coated her pallet.

she gripped his wrist tightly and he stopped his movements for just a second, his middle finger tapping against her bud in a slow pattern, each time making her body jolt just the slightest. "do you like this movie, pretty?" he questioned, a singular circular motion was given to her sensitive bud.

she shook her head and he let out a small laugh that was felt against her ear. "want me to change it?" shigaraki questioned as he caught onto a small detail of their conversation. "no, its fine….tomura-" she interrupted herself by masking a whimper with a small sound of her clearing her throat.

dabi’s fingers continued against her and y/n could feel shigaraki's gaze on her. it took quite some time to leave, and dabi let out an amused huff when he did. "you doing okay, angel?" he questioned, fingers now prodding her entrance. they were inserted immediately as she spoke a response, her voice slightly falling into a breathy sigh.

"f-fine. just shut up and wa—watch…the movie."

"so bossy." he muttered, making y/n sink her nails into his arm even further. he let out a soft and drawn out hum at that and y/n figured that it wasn't doing her any good. "fucking masochist.." she muttered underneath her breath. "mhm." he hummed, his prodding fingers speeding up their motions.

she tightened her thighes around his wrist but dabi was still able to keep up the pace. the same pace that was beginning to drive her mad. her chest heaved and her breathing picked up drastically, but she tried to keep down the amplifying sounds. she hated dabi for this. she hated how he couldn’t have just waited til later on in the night when they could be alone, she hated how he would force her to speak at any given chance just to make her stumble over her words with his touch, she hated how despite everything she did, he still had control over her body in a way she couldn't explain, and most of all, she hated how good it made her feel.

how the excitement and chance of risks only made her feel all the more aroused. how the slick that leaked from her sex only continued to dampen the fabric of dabi's pants beneath her. she was beyond needy and dabi knew this. her words told a completely different story than her body language and right now, he planned on entertaining the one that would make this night a bit more fun.

a jump scare appeared on the tv, and y/n let out a small whimper just as it happened. shigaraki's head shot up and he immediately eyes the two sitting next to him. dabi lazily met the gaze of the white haired individual and barley visible smug smile was on his lips. he pulled his fingers from her hole, using her arousal to massage circles against the sensitive bud. dabi blinked away from shigaraki and leaned up to y/n's ear as his motions quickened.

"think you might've blown your cover, angel." he smiled, the grin on his lips only widening when she leaned back into his chest even more, her legs shaking and tightening around dabi's hand. she covered her mouth, the sound of a strained moan being quiet but not quiet enough to go undiscovered by shigaraki.

his gaze lowered at dabi who was now only focused on the tv, suddenly invested in the movie. almost as if he didn't just push y/n over the edge, her climax still coursing through her body as time passed.

"you're sick, dabi." shigaraki's voice was rough, but y/n's was able to make out his words, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. "i'm aware." he smiled, pulling his hand out from y/n's bottoms and the blanket before his middle finger, coated with y/n's slick made contact with his tongue.

y/n sat up properly, steadying her breathing as she was unaware of dabi’s actions behind her. "but doesn't that make you sick as well given the fact that you enjoyed watching?"

dabi’s gazed flickered down to shigaraki's tented lap and he rolled his eyes at him, a glare forming in his gaze. dabi let out a small laugh before standing which forced y/n to stand as well.

"enjoy the rest of the movie, shigs."

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[killsaki]

leather cushions ☆ touya hates the couch in the living room, but somehow you have him sitting on them every second of the day.

word count : 6.7k | MINORS DNI

CW / TW : date gone wrong comfort fic-ish, fuck boy!keigo, sexual pressure, roommate!touya, sweet sex. repost from old blog. <3.

“don’t be a fucking idiot.” you hear your best friend yell over his shoulder from his seat on the couch that doesn’t belong to you nor him but somehow made its way into the apartment that the two of you share.

“i don’t think that’s something you can call someone who has a higher iq than you do.” you laugh back, expecting his usual disgusted face that you usually get when you poke at him. instead you’re met with a death glare from over his arm that slung over the back of the couch. something you physically react to, which earns a scoff from him as he turns back to the tv.

“if you’re so smart, you’d know he’s just going to try and fuck you.”

you know touya’s just trying to look out for you, in his own stupid way. and you also know that keigo doesn’t have the best reputation when it came to relationships. not that most girls minded, because that one night with him was seemingly enough for most of them, that is until he stopped replying to their messages the next day.

but you also know that touya is no better than keigo is. so even if all the things keigo has filled your head with in the past two weeks is bullshit. that all the sweet texts and late night phone calls were all empty nothings, then at least you can say you tried something new. instead of sitting in your room doing all you can to muffle the sound of your roommate fucking some random’s throat on that same couch.

“don’t call me to pick you up when he starts being a fucking creep,” he stretches his tattooed arms, not bothering to look back at you. “i’m having bitch over, so i’ll be busy.”

“because it’s so hard for you to get up from a blowjob?” you say nonchalantly, slipping your jacket off the hook and onto your body.

“exactly.” he glances up at you again when you reach for the door, only making eye contact for a second, that permanently bored look etched on his face as his eyes drag down your body, before he snaps his head back to his phone. “you can fuck off now, she’ll be here soon.”

you can only sigh before securing your shoes on your feet and leaving out the door, being met with the bright smile and even brighter red car that both belong to keigo takami. you watch as he pushes himself off his car, phone shoved into his pocket, freeing both of his hands to rest at your waist.

“you look..” he starts, eyes dragging down between the two of you before meeting yours again, that pretty grin never once leaving his face. “god, do i feel underdressed.”

“stop it.” you shake your head, resting your hands against his chest that’s adorned with a tight black t-shirt, fingers playing with the gold chain that rests on top of it. “i think you look great how you are.”

“oh, you think?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“i think.” you confirm, letting go of the pendant and tapping his chest. “you ready to go?”

“i thought we could just stand here for the rest of the night.”

playfully, you swat at his chest, laughing when he lets out the fakest of groans, clutching his chest dramatically. once he finally ‘recovers’, he opens the passenger door of his car for you, letting you settle inside before closing it behind you and jogging over to the driver's side.

the rest of the night seems to go just as good. with him as chivalrous, just as sweet; he lets you play whatever you want on the aux, even nodding along with it, though there’s no way in hell he’s ever actually heard half of the songs that you play. he’d opened all your doors for you, pulled out your chair at the restaurant, and of course paid for your food despite the way you insisted you could pay for it on your own.

“everything tonight is my treat,” he smiled for the umpteenth time, something that you’ve found to be progressively harder to deny; something so sweet that it distracts you from the possible venom behind the next words that fall from his mouth. “you can always pay me back another time.”

it’s fine after that even, or it seems to be. after dinner, he insists on ice cream. the desert menu at the restaurant was just a bit too pricey for either of your liking, so the local mom and pop’s shop would suffice, if not exceed the fifteen dollar small plate of chocolate cake that you could’ve had.

“it feels so good out tonight.” you hear him say, one arm resting around your frame. “we should drive around and eat.”

the breeze does have plenty of warmth to it, so much that you actually ditched your jacket. you agree without much thought, smiling and leaning into his sturdy frame. as the line moves up. he starts chatting you up about one of the bands you played on the ride over, going on about how every other song seemed to be by them. the two of you talk music until you’re back in his car, then you’re having to struggle to eat because he just won't stop making you laugh.

you’re so caught up in the charm that you don't even notice whenever he pulls into the empty parking lot and rolls the windows down before he kills the engine.

“you’re so easy to talk to.” he rests his head back on the seat, before rolling it over to look at you. “thanks for hanging out with me.”

you can feel warmth creep on your cheeks as you play in the last bits of your now melted ice cream.

“why wouldn’t i?”

he laughs, raising an eyebrow. “i don't really see you hanging out with anyone.” he shrugs, glancing down to the cold cup that’s still nearly full in his hand.

“well, i’ll have you know,” you furrow your eyebrows playfully. “i hang out with my roommate whenever we’re in the living room at the same time, and that’s at least twice a week.”

you can feel yourself soften into the seat at the sound of his soft laugh, warmth blooming in your chest when his deep dimples show in the dim light from the parking lot.

he stares at you for just a moment, golden eyes glancing down to your lips back up to meet yours again. he leans in without another word, meeting your lips with his own and you can taste the vanilla ice cream on his tongue before he even slides it into your mouth.

his free hand comes up to cup your nape, fingers digging into your skin to pull you deeper into the kiss,

“d’you wanna get in the back seat?” he nods behind him as if you needed to know where it was.

“actually, keigo.. i don’t want-”

“fuck!” he jumps back, pulling at the crotch of his pants to keep the now spilled cold and runny ice cream from touching his skin.

“holy shit how did you-”

“is- i gotta- fuck, it’s gonna stain.”

you can’t help but laugh at the whine in his voice at the idea of his precious khaki pants staining with white, his head snaps over to you struggling to hide the sound.

“you think this is funny?” his eyes widen, as he looks back down to the mess in his lap. “i gotta go change.”

he starts the car again, one hand still holding the material off his skin the best he can manage as he maneuvers his way back to the big blue house with unreadable greek letters on the front. you find that it’s quiet, light chatting coming from the living room, and some gun fire playing off the tv, but not much other than that.

“you can come and wait in my room if you’d like, i’m just gonna shower.” he motions his free hand up the stairs, smiling when you start padding behind him.

another thing that catches you off guard is how clean his room is. not that he comes off as a dirty kind of guy, and it’s not like any of the rumours about him ever included his decor choices, but it was just so neat. no clutter, no cups, not even a sock hanging out of his laundry basket.

letting yourself fall onto his perfectly made bed, and almost instantly regretting it when the comforter wrinkles underneath you, you finally check your phone, finding messages from your roommate you must've missed the vibrations from over twenty minutes ago.

stinky bastard: | hows it going? |

stinky bastard: | not that i give a shit |

you nearly snort at the time stamps, how they were sent within the same minute and all you can think about is how fast he tried to recover from showing that he does in fact give a shit.

sent: | thought you were busy? |

after you press send, you lock your phone. it had been nearly half an hour ago since he sent that, so if he wasn’t then, he most likely is now. you’re most likely not going to get another reply for another thirty min- ding.

stinky bastard: | dont avoid my fuckin question |

stinky bastard: | but i’m getting my dick sucked as we speak |

sent: | make sure you clean the couch this time when you’re done |

stinky bastard: | spit that has been on my balls is an upgrade for this couch |

you audibly laugh at that, remembering all the times he’d be in his boxers, and you’d catch him walking from the bathroom with a wet rag about to wipe up the mess left on the couch seat, mumbling about how he should just ‘throw the fuckin’ thing out.’ as if the two of you could afford a new one.

sent: | what do you have against the poor couch? |

stinky bastard: | a lot, actually. |

you hover your thumbs over the keyboard, shaking your head at your roommate and his imaginary beef with the inanimate object before the sound of the shower turning off catches your attention, but another buzz brings you back to your phone.

stinky bastard: | he being a creep yet? |

sent: | touya, no |

you stand, though you’re not really sure why. tapping the corners of your phone, you walk mindlessly over to the dresser, glancing up at your reflection before turning to lean against it.

stinky bastard: | she’s not too good so i could come get you if you needed |

sent: | i’m fine, touya |

“sorry,“ you hear keigo apologize as he enters the room. “i forgot to grab some clothes.”

you look up to see him draped only in a white towel, one that’s tied loosely around his waist, looking like it’s going to fall any second as he closes the door behind him. heat creeps it’s way back up into your cheeks and you’re sure you look insane with how wide your eyes have gotten.

“don’t worry, i’ll go get dressed in the bathroom.” he laughs, no doubt trying to put your crazy expression at ease.

“right, yeah.” you mumbled, nodding, trying to look anywhere but at his toned chest, or at the way the water was still dripping from his hair down to the dips of his sculpted stomach, or even at the line of dirty blonde hair that leads below the towel to only god- and twenty something girls on campus- know what.

you feel him before you realize that he’s actually there. standing in front of you smirking as he looks down at you, and you can feel the heat off of his body, for a second you just stand there wondering if he’s always that warm or if the warmth of the shower is still sticking to him.

“you know,” his hands find themselves on your waist once again, his head tilted down as he leans his lips to brush against yours. “if you didn’t want me to put any clothes on, you could’ve said that.”

you gasp when you realise where you’ve come to stand and that you’re quite literally blocking the man from putting anything on.

“i’m sorry, i-”

he shushes you, nudging you to look up at him with his nose.

“it’s okay,” his voice is soft, then same as his lips as they press against yours once again. slowly, you ease into it, just like you did before. but the weight of his hands feel heavy, like sandpaper against your skin as they dip under your clothes and drag against your skin

his mouth makes it’s way from your own down to your chin, where he leaves open kisses against your neck. “i’d just end up taking them back off anyways.”

you feel him part your legs with his knee, hands gripping into your softness to pull you closer to him, to control your movements as he tries to get you to grind down against him.

“keigo, i don’t-” a sound escapes you at the worst possible moment when he starts to suck on the sensitive spot at the base of your neck. and the sound of his voice, soft and condensing in your ear makes you want the floor to swallow you whole.

“sounds like you do to me.”

you push at his chest to no avail, his sturdy body locking you into his own.

“keigo-” you groan as the uncomfortable feeling of him sucking your skin between his teeth. “please,” you plead, though you’re not even sure he’s listening. “stop.”

“i’m sorry,” he pulls back finally, leaning his forehead against your own, one of his hands coming to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “you’re just so pretty.”

“thank you, keigo, i’m just-” you can feel the shake in your voice as you speak and your face grows hotter when you know he can hear it.

“what’s wrong, dove?”

you’re sure if the situation wasn’t what it was, that pet name would make your heart soar.

“i’m not comfortable.” you admit, hoping he would drop all of it so that you could go back to the light hearted conversations that started the night.

“right.” he nods, pulling back slowly. “the bed’s probably better anyways.” that smile plasters itself back on his face and you feel your heart sink into your stomach when he tugs you by your wrist with him.

you thank whatever deity is out there watching over you when a crash downstairs stops him in his tracks. though the feeling of relief is quickly washed away with the grip he still holds on you and look on his face as snaps his head over to the door with naked anger, the cracks of his nice guy facade stripping down.

“you can’t fucking go up there!”

a slam follows the shout, and another after that.

“watch me.”

there’s heavy steps up the stairs, sounds that echo through the otherwise quiet house. just as keigo begins to let go of you, to approach the door to his room, it swings open and your roommate stands at the entryway staring back at you.

“can i help you?” keigo chimes in, stepping in front of you, trying to break eye contact between you two.

“nah, piss stain, you can’t.” touya quickly retorts, not sparing him a look, still eyeing you over the shorter man’s shoulder.

“what are you doing here?” you blink, words barely above a whisper but you know they both hear you.

“you didn’t text me back.” he shrugs.

“we’re busy.” keigo makes it a point to adjust his towel slightly before looking back over his shoulder with a smirk. “isn’t that right?”

you can’t miss how touya’s lip ring twitches, a habit he’s picked up when he’s trying to bite his tongue.

“no,” you let out meekly, bumping shoulders with the blonde as you walked past him, hoping touya’s presence would spare you from another bruising grab at your wrist, and lucky you, it does. “we weren’t.”

you miss the deathly glare they give one another, but you do turn around in time to catch a glimpse of keigo’s back tattoo as he throws his phone into the mattress. you think about how all the other girls described the wings to be so beautiful, how his muscles flexing only added to the serene scene, and now you start to wonder if any other part of their stories were just as fabricated.

“thank you.” you sigh as you lean your head against his back, hands wrapped firmly around his waist as he moves to start the bike’s engine.

“i wasn’t doing anything anyways.” you feel him shrug before he hits the kickstand with this boot and heads out onto the street.

there’s something comforting about being this close to touya, despite how just minutes ago you felt like you needed to scrub your body clean and you never wanted to be less than two feet away from anyone ever again. the way touya relaxes under you, how he breathes calmly despite being on a two wheel death machine, the smell of his three in one clinging to his skin, it makes you want to fall asleep right there. and you almost do, if not for the, again, two wheeled death machine.

he doesn’t say anything when the two of you make it back to the apartment, or whenever you get out of the shower, he leaves your favorite snacks on the counter without even asking if you wanted them. and when you come into the living room, you find him in his spot on the corner of the couch with the fuzzy blanket of his that you always threaten to steal right next to him.

you sit down, taking the blanket and wrapping yourself in it. two of you sit in silence for a while, save the sound of you digging into the plastic that holds your snacks and the show that play quietly on the tv. but there’s not much that you can really find the energy to say. slowly, you start to lean into his warmth, thankfully humming whenever he drops his arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest.

“i’ll kick his teeth in if you want me to.” he whispers against the crown of your head.

you breathe a laugh out, shaking your head.

“or i could get some money off my old man and pay someone else to do it.” he rubs your arm slowly, his warm hands, as callous as they are, feel like silk as they brush against you. “since you care too much about me getting into trouble.”

you let out a small giggle out that time, a weak smile creeping up on your face.

“and why would you think that?”

you know your voice sounds broken, that all the crying you did in the shower took its toll and that it would be obvious now, but with touya, you can’t find a reason to care.

“because i know you.” he leans his cheek against your head, pulling you a little closer to his side. “you care too much about everything.”

you sigh, relaxing further into his hold.

“you think that’s why i wanted to go with him?” you ask, not really expecting an answer. “‘cause if everything he said was true, if he really meant all the sweet things he said to me-”

“you thought it would hurt his feelings.” you feel touya’s head shake slowly. “guys like that don’t even have feelings.”

“you don’t have feelings either though.” you joke, looking up at him whenever you feel his weight lift off of you.

you’re met with those bright blue eyes looking back into yours.

“and what makes you think that?”

your breath catches in your throat when you realise how close the two of you are, how much different it all is with him compared to the piece of shit you’d been with earlier.

“all the girls you have over..” you start but the sight of him twitching his lip ring catches your train of thought and you can’t find any words to finish the sentence.

“they come willingly.” he states, brows furrowing like he’s thinking over his words. “but i guess i don’t feel anything with them,” he rolls his head back towards the tv, lip rings swinging back and forth before he speaks again. “not unless i picture them as you.”

your mind swims with too many thoughts to even begin to process what he could mean by that.

“i’m not some kind of fucking creep, and i wouldn’t try anything after the shit you’ve been through tonight, i just,” he throws his head back on the couch staring up at he ceiling as he sighs. “i don’t know why the fuck i opened my mouth.”

“touya,” you squeeze your eyes closed, letting out a deep breath before you move, pushing yourself up to straddle his lap. he doesn’t move an inch, not even to pick his head up to look at you when you settle there. and he probably would just stay like that if you didn’t physically pick up his head and force him to look at you. “what the fuck are you saying?”

he just blinks at you for a moment, those pretty eyes searching for something in yours. you can feel his pulse under your fingertips, his soft, warm skin thumping slightly under your touch.

“i don’t have feelings,” he sighs, leaning his cheek into your palm, eyes still focused on you. “not until it comes to you.”

you open your mouth to speak, but the words leak out of your brain before you can form any kind of sentence with them.

“i can’t say sweet shit to make you like me, or take you to nice ass resturants with those fancy fucking forks,” you start to panic when your heart beats against your chest, afraid that he’ll be able to feel it aswell. “but i sit on this stupid ass couch all fucking day, waiting for you to come in here and talk to me because you’re the only person who makes me feel anything.”

“touya..”

“and i let you go on that date with that fucker knowing damn well how fucking sick he is-”

“touya.” you interrupt, thumbs running over the highs of his cheeks.

he closes his mouth, blinking at you, waiting for whatever else you wanted to say, though he’d be fine if you just said his name again and again until time ended.

“kiss me.”

and he listens, slowly he leans down, giving you every chance to push him away, to tell him nevermind, that you didn’t actually want him to. but it never comes, instead you lean forward, still cradling his face in your hands as your lips mesh with his. it’s soft, slow, each move of your lips against his feels so full of purpose, so full of feeling.

cautiously, like you’re a wild bunny going to jump from his lap at any second, he rests his hands at your sides, just feeling your body above him. only resting the weight of them fully when you start humming happily into his mouth at the contact.

his hands feel warm and light against your skin, setting your ablaze under every inch that they trail over. you melt into him, you go to move your hands from his face, to find perch in his hair or on his shoulders to pull yourself closer to him, but they don’t get far off his cheeks before he’s capturing your wrists and keeping them there.

“don’t,” he warns when you pull back to speak. “just don’t.”

you laugh, leaning back in only to be stopped.

“not here,” he shakes his head, still keeping your hands attached to his face. “not on this stupid fucking couch.”

you lean your head back in laughter, something that brings a small smile onto touya’s face, something only you can do. a moment later, he’s dragging you to the door of his room and leading you in. the hold he has on you is loose, giving you every chance to pull away but you continue to follow him.

he walks over to change the color of his led lights, letting you linger behind him and take in the sight of his room. it’s a little messy, with things thrown here and there, but not too bad where you can’t walk or see his floor. surprisingly enough it smells good, like pine and a campfire.

“stop looking at my mess.” he mumbles coming back to you, pulling your hands back up to his face.

“but, i like your mess.” you say back, watching as his white teeth peek from behind his lips, reflecting the dark blue light in a way that makes your heart skip a few beats.

“you’re crazy, you know that?” he shakes his head, ducking down to pull you into another kiss, the two of you stumbling blindly until the back of your legs meet his bed and you fall out of his hold and on your back.

“then what does that make you?” you breath as you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he picks up your thighs and shoves you farther on his bed.

“if you’re crazy, i’m in-fucking-sane.”

he peels his shirt off by the bottom hem, exposing his tattooed stomach that you can’t remember if you’ve ever paid attention to before. his hands fall just above your shoulders as he leans down over you, nudging you chin with his nose in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. the feeling of his lips dragging up the column of your neck making heat start to pool in your stomach. you whine out something adjacent to his name as he starts to pepper kisses along your collarbone, and you can feel the comforter underneath you tighten with his fist.

a shaky breath is let out against your skin before he pulls himself back up to look into your eyes, resting his against yours and you can’t help but press your lips against his again despite that he definitely was about to say something. when you pull back, his eyes are closed and he’s nearly panting against your lips.

“you sure about this?” his eyes flutter open to look for your response, one that comes in a nod.

“say it for me.” he whispers, so softly that you’re sure if your bodies weren’t pressed together you wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

“i want you, touya.”

and his lips are on yours again, soft and sweet in a way that is anything but touya, but just like him all the same. the kiss is passionate, deep enough to pull sounds from your throat and make you completely dizzy. so much so that you wouldn’t even have noticed when he has started to pull your shirt off if he didn’t ask for permission before he did it, same with your shorts, and every other piece of clothing that you had left.

with each one he strips off of you, he presses kisses to the spot that the fabric had left bare for him, first your stomach, then the top of your thigh, followed by your sternum, then your hips. each press of his lips against your sensitive skin leaves you more eager, fills your stomach with want, and no doubt is leaving you with a mess of arousal between your thighs, waiting for him to finally touch you where you wanted him most.

you groan at the thought of his fingers, the silver that is somehow cold against his burning skin as they graze down your sides, and squeeze at the soft of your thighs. and gasp at the feeling of his lips, soft and also adored with cool metal as he kisses from your navel up to your throat.

“what is it?” he mumbles into your skin. “hm, baby?” his lips find their way to your ear, words hot against the shell of it.

“i wanna feel you, touya.” you whisper, hands reaching around his shoulder to hold him against you.

“but i’m all over you, doll.” he tsk’s back, obviously wanting you to be more clear with what you’re asking for.

“i want to feel you inside of me, touya.” you can feel your cheeks heat with the blunt words but you can’t find a reason to care, not if it’ll lead you to finally seeing how far his fingers can reach.

“oh, is that all?” he lets out a shaky laugh, fake confidence starting to crack as he shifts his weight onto one of his forearms, looking between your face and his hand that traces down the curves of your body until it meets with the apex of your thighs.

“you just tell me when to stop.” he whispers before kissing you, leaving himself hovering just above your lips.

his middle finger comes to slide along your slit, up to meet your clit with a few experimental circles around it. it draws a gasp from your lips, the feeling of the tip of it prodding at your entrance enough to force another out of you.

“did you hear me?” he asks, voice still soft.

you nod in response, not trusting your voice when you’re so doped out on the promise of ecstasy. but, clearly that wasn’t the right answer, you notice as he pulls his hand from your heat to rub at your thigh.

“i heard you, touya.” you whine out. “i’ll tell you when i want you to stop, i swear, please just fucking touch me.”

and again, he listening to your plead, fingers instantly finding their way back to your cunt. the tip of his middle finger starting to prod against your entrance, his lips making their way to your jaw as he starts to press in, his ear as close to your mouth as he could get it without being completely obvious.

pretty little gasps tumble from your lips as he starts a rhythm with it, pushing it all the way into the knuckle, letting you feel the cool metal against your cunt before he pulls back out, turning his wrist as he does so. you have his finger completely soaked by the second time he does this, which only motivates him to give you-

“more.” you whimper desperately.

he adds another, turning his wrist so he can press his fingertips up against that soft wall that has you letting out even sweeter, louder sounds. each flick of his hand has you seeing stars, the knot of pleasure in your stomach starting to fray away already, and each sound you tumble out, each pulse of your walls around his digits, has him grinding harder into the mattress below you.

“wait, wait, wait-” you say with no real urgency, cursing yourself of shaving off your high.

he retreats from your body immediately, leaning up on his knees so that he wasn’t touching you at all.

“you okay? did i hurt you?” he puts his hands up, making it easy for you to grab them and pull him back on top of you before he tries to slip off the bed completely.

you shake your head to answer his question as he eases himself back over you.

“i said i wanted to feel you, touya.”

you can see even in the dim blue light how his eyes widen the slightest bit, the way his mouth parts and you can feel the way his hands twitch again into the blanket by your head.

“yeah?” his voice is shaky, breathier than before. “is that really what you want?”

“mhm,” you hum back, feeling secure with him, knowing that with touya, this was safe, you were safe. “i want you, touya.”

“fuck,” he pulls himself from you, reaching over and digging through his nightsand drawer for god knows what before returning back to you with a shiny package that he bites and tears with his teeth. “you just tell me-”

“when to stop;” you finish for him. “i know, i will.”

he smirks down at you as he tugs the top of his boxers down, not missing the way your eyes dart down to catch sight of the size of him. and god does he revel in the way you lick your lips at the way his cock slaps up against his stomach. your eyes flutter between his face and the way he slowly unrolls the condom down the length of him.

“can i?” you ask, not expecting to hear the groan that’s only muffled by the way he bites his lip.

after he nods, hand retreating from his cock, letting it slap back up against his belly button, you lean up on your forearm, reaching to wrap around it and work the condom down just the tiniest bit faster. you can’t help but try to savour the sweet seconds that his hips jump forward towards your fist, or the way the curve of it feels against your palm. you regret not dragging it out longer because the second it seems to be completely unrolled, he’s pushing your shoulder back into the bed.

“such a tease.” you hum against his lips, one arm coming to rub his shoulders, the other cradling the back of his head. you mimic the feeling of his smile against your mouth, but it only lasts for a moment. the feeling of him rubbing the tip of his cock along your slit enough to make your face drop with pleasure. he takes his time, circling your clit with it before sliding it down to your entrance to push in the smallest bit before pulling his hips back again and repeating the motion all over.

“‘nd i’m the te-” you try to huff, only to be cut off by touya finally pushing past the head into your warmth. even with just a few shallow strokes, you can feel him pressing up against your most sensitive spots.

“were you saying somethin’?” he laughs above you, watching your face in awe as your eyes roll back with each cant forward of his hips. “c’mon,” you hear his voice become breathy once again. “let me hear you.”

and without a second thought, you let your lips part, each sound falling from your throat without a care. you mind too focus on the way his cock stretches you, how the tip of him presses so perfectly against your g-spot, how full he makes you feel and he hasn’t even fully bottomed out.

“‘so good” you whimper out as he drags his hips back once again, the slow, sensual pace making it even harder to work your brain.

he drops down closer to you, lips against your own like he wanted to taste every moan you made.

“‘s good, baby?” he asks softly, hips stuttering for a second but never once losing their gentle pace.

“mhm,” you attempt to hum, a moan making you drag out the ‘m’ longer than you intended. “feel so good, touya.”

his head drops to your shoulder where he leaves open mouth kisses that only make the feeling in your stomach ten times hotter. it makes you roll your hips up into his desperately, trying to get some friction against your clit, wanting just to get over the edge.

“slow down,” he warns, grabbing your hip with one of his big palms. “if you- fuck-” his hips fall flush with your own when your walls start to grip around him, which makes both of you let out ugly noises simountaliously. “tell me what you need.”

“my clit, i just-” you pant, trying again to roll your hips without any luck. “please, please, i need it.”

not a second later is his hand off your waist and his thumb is stuck to your clit, rubbing perfect circles against it that send warmth spilling out of your cheeks and sending it all down to your cunt. he starts his hips again, the extra stimulation almost sending you over already if your throbbing walls and shaking thighs were anything to go by.

“gonna cum with me?” he asks, knowing your far too gone to answer. “we’re almost there, baby.”

his pace becomes sloppier, faster, but never rougher, the sound of his balls sticking against your ass with each deep thrust he gives mixes with the desperate, pathetically needy sounds fill the room as you both start to feel the static spread through your veins, white and blue heat shooting into your vision and making your body spasm together.

it takes both of you a minute to move, to do anything other than hold one another and try to calm your breathing. but once you both finally come down, touya is pulling himself from you with a groan, face full of disgust as he pulls off the condom and ties it. squeezing it just the slightest bit in front of you so that you both could be sure there were no complications with the rubber. you throw your arm over your eyes as touya walks out to the room and flicks on the light to what has to be the bathroom. you don’t even move when he returns, just letting him take the warm wash cloth and clean you up before he retreats out of the room once again.

“aht aht.” he shakes your leg when he returns, sweats hanging low on his hips. “like hell we’re sleeping in here.”

you would laugh at him were it not for how sleepy you actually were.

“but ‘m tired.” you mumble, rolling over into his pillow.

“it smells like balls in here. lets go to your room.” he offers, gently pulling you up off his mattress.

“so your room can’t smell like balls, but the living room can?” you roll your head against him, letting him hold the majority of your weight as he leads you to your room.

“exactly.”

“gross.” you retort as he sits you on the edge of your bed. “hey, touya.”

“hey, baby.” he responds back, pulling someone’s shirt over your head.

“why did you bring all those girls over here if you liked me?”

the shirt smells like him, you decide.

“because i’m an idiot.”

you nod, not paying any mind to the way he scoffs at the action.

“and why did you always do stuff with them on the couch?”

“because that’s where i always see you,” his hands come to lay on your shoulders as he pulls you back off the mattress. “it was easiest to picture you when we were out there.”

he pulls down your comforter and helps you ease back into the bed, handling you like glass the entire time.

“i guess that makes sense.” you sigh into the pillow, eyes still closed as he lets himself into your bed.

“it doesn’t.”

you don’t waste a second before laying on his chest, not that he doesn’t welcome you by wrapping his arms around you immediately.

“oh and touya,” you start again, making his heart race. thinking it'd be another question about the girls he continued to bring over like an idiot.

“you think we can get rid of the couch now?”

you can feel the vibration of his laugh from where you lay, and sleepily, you half smile at it.

“where am i gonna sit to talk to you then?” he answers with a question of his own.

“right here.” you pat his bare abdomen, fingers moving on their own the moment after to trace the dips of his muscle.

“i dunno,” he sucks in a breath. “we had our first kiss there, it has sentimental value now.”

you raise up quickly from where you lay to snap your head up at him, though it’s probably less intimidating because it takes you a moment to actually open up your eyes.

“kidding.” he assures, pulling you back onto him by your shoulder. “i can always steal some money from my old man for a new one.”

“and we can pick the new one together?” you ask with a yawn.

“whatever you want, angel.” he hums, kissing the crown of your head. “just, no more leather cushions.”

[harleys1nhawaii]

IGNITE THE HEAT [dabi / todoroki touya x f!reader]

thinking about dabi riling you up and giving you all of him for hours, just to stop and grin at you from above seconds before you can release that knot in your stomach. your cheeks are burning from tears and your aching cunt is clenching around nothing, laying in the wet patch trembling and desperate. his hands grabbing your waist and hips down, grounding you into the soaked matress as his mouth stretches into a grin so wide, the metal staples start leaking blood.

“f-fuck, dabi!” you whimper as your cheeks stain with more of the salty liquid. your voice is strained and too weak, your throat is dry from all the restless vocal show you gave him. “why? why are y’ doing this?” it only fuels his desire. feeling a rush of primal satisfaction, knowing that he was the cause of your pleasure and pain, the reason for your weakened state.

“shh, doll.” he presses his lips against your neck, his voice a low rumble. his tongue darting out to flick against the shell of your ear. “you’re doin’ so well f’ me. so fucking good, doll, letting me break you like this.”

dabi’s touch is gentle, his fingers wiping the tears from your cheeks with a tenderness that seemed almost uncharacteristic of him. “don’t cry now, doll. just a little longer, i promise. you can hold on a little more f’ me, can’t you?” you can’t help but nod in silence, eyes pleading at him through wet lashes and heavy lids.

“that’s a good girl.” he murmurs, voice low and possessive. your hands grip onto the sheets again as your voice breaks, feeling him deep inside your sensitive walls.

despite his soft, comforting words, there was a hint of mischief in his eyes, a sly smirk playing at the corners of his lips. you couldn’t catch it when your body ached with need, your mind a haze of desire and frustration. it was as if he knew something you didn't, as if he was planning to keep playing with you, even after he promised to give you the release you so desperately craved.

the night went on, his hands continued to explore your body, touching, caressing, teasing. but instead of bringing you closer to the edge of release, he kept you balanced on that precarious precipice, never pushing you over the edge. he smugly whispered his “just a little longer”’s, kept telling you how good you were being, how patient you were, how much he loved the sound you made when you were on the edge of release, to never give you the relief of it for another couple of hours.

[sweetfushi]

LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS.

fluff | dabi x reader, allusions to crying | word count. 0.3k ◦ notes. i just wanna hold him :( @zumicho

“You’re so cute when you’re sleepy,” Dabi rasps, breaking his gaze away from the TV to observe your soft breaths and fluttering lashes as you lay on his chest.

He’s in a slightly uncomfortable position, in which his back is curved against the headboard enough for his chest and torso to be accessible to you as you curl into him. You insisted that he sit up and just let you lay on his lap but he wouldn’t allow it. The closer you are to him, the safer he feels.

You don’t respond with anything other than a soft hum as you pull a blanket around you. As you do, you feel Dabi start to stroke and caress your hair, soothing and lulling you to the brink of unconsciousness.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he hums. “Just relax for me.”

Upon hearing that, you have to refrain from slapping him as hearing that come out his mouth gets you excited more than anything – the opposite of what he intended to happen. So instead of following through with your thoughts, you wrap an arm around his torso and pull him impossibly closer, to the point where he has to finally adjust his position to lay down fully.

Eventually, you zone the TV out until all you can focus on is your and his breathing patterns. Sometimes, you feel him crane his neck to kiss the top of your head and hear him mumble sweet words of adoration to you amidst your semi-unconscious state. He knows you’re too tired to do anything but mumble incoherently.

“I love you, dove. So much.”

At this point, you feel as though you can’t sleep from the lump forming in your throat. Thus, you sit up and gaze up at him with sunken yet curious eyes. Dabi spots the sadness in your gaze and smiles before picking you up and sitting you on his lap, his large hand on the back of your head being used to guide you to lay on his chest again.

“I love you too, Dabi.”

He huffs out a small laugh but feels his throat tighten and his voice break at your affection.

“I know, dove. I know.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[hizuzeiri]

my touya relationship hcs cus why not ! (hes so cute i love him sm)

Warning: spoilers, nsfw, smut, badly written 🥲

SFW

Knowing his backstory, he has never felt loved till he met you.

The moment you said you loved him, he swore to himself that he would keep you forever

Extremely protective over you

He puts up this whole new personality (aka his Dabi side) around others but with you, he just couldn't help but let out his inner Touya

After missions with the league, he would sneak out of their hideout to go to your place

He has this huge spot for you, like hes mean and harsh towards others but towards you? Hes gentle

he shows his love through his actions cus he isn't rlly that good with words

I feel like he would be super clingy and touchy, like its either his hands are on yours, your waist, shoulder, or they’re wrapped around you

he would be the type to secretly love cuddles

His skin is also like super warm because of his quirk (warmer cuddles !!)

He would NOT hesitate to show the world that youre taken

a picky eater but would eat anything you make

Loves kisses soo much

Touya would definitely take you out for night strolls and dates he gets motion sickness so he cant drive

WOULD LITTERLLY DO ANYTHING FOR YOU.

NSFW

Starts of gentle and asks first if youre okay

He would always ask for your consent before doing something

But at some point he will lose control at and would eventually start going rougher

He finds it cute seeing you choke on his cock whenever you give him blowjobs

Would praise you a lot

“Fuck.. what did i do to deserve you”

“You’re so pretty like this..”

Loves eating you out

Can literally eat your pussy everyday and never get tired of it.

also loves if youre on top of him

He finds it cute watching you struggle to move on his cock

Every sound, whimper, and moan that comes out of your mouth are like music to his ears

This man is EXTREMELY PUSSY DRUNK

will definitely ask for more than 1 orgasm

“You can do one more for me, right baby?”

“Cmon… i didn’t come yet”

He always asks where he should come

Comes A LOT.

For aftercare, he would shower you with kisses and cuddles <3

“You did so good baby”

note : sorry if its inaccurate, this is just how i imagine him 😓

[missmeinyourbones]

I’LL MAKE THIS FEEL LIKE HOME

cw: nsfw, 18+. minors and ageless blogs will be blocked for interacting. wc 6k. todoroki fam lore. bnha manga + s6 spoilers. angst and fluff and smut and love and

“Do you feel held by him? Does he feel like home to you?”

- Midsommar (2019)

Touya was eight years old when his youngest brother was born—the same age realized that his house no longer felt like home. 

And while it never fit the traditional cookie-cutter feeling of a home before then, it was comforting in its own kind of way. It was definite, something that he could hold onto and strive towards. Something that was there at the end of the day, no matter how badly his hands burned or how quiet the dinner table was. 

Because before Shouto was born, there was still a chance. 

Fuyumi and Natsuo were just as much of failures as he was—it was anyone's game. He could keep pushing, train his hand to defy the science of his body and deal with it. Become what his father wanted so badly he’d kill for. That was home, the knowledge that there was still a chance for him. 

But the moment Shouto was born, hair perfectly split the same as his flawlessly cursed body, Touya knew. 

Instantly, he knew that his time was over—that there was no saving his dream of making his father proud. He hadn’t been enough, and he would have to live with that, in a house that's no home with a family that lives in the shadow of what he never got to be. 

He carries that feeling everywhere he goes. Like an eternal kink in his neck, it weighs heavy on his shoulders and disintegrates the marrow of his bones. Forever the boy without a home, Dabi continues to do what he does best—or maybe worst—and he survives. 

But, you don’t remember when Dabi became home to you. 

Well, that's not entirely true. Like all other things, you suppose it happened slowly, then all at once. 

You remember meeting him when you shouldn’t have. Recognizing his appearance from the local news, you remember the heavy feeling in your chest, like a child who was caught doing something wrong. The fear, the confusion. The part of you that wanted to help, the other than wanted to run. 

But you don’t remember how fast it all happened. 

Sewing his wounds and scrubbing his blood from your floor. Letting him sneak in to hide out, and waking up to an empty bed. You don’t remember the days bleeding into nights, but you could never forget the way his skin felt against yours.

You remember the impact, but the falling is all a blur. The stranger sleeping on your couch who has now read all of the books on your bedside table. The one who hissed and snarled for you to stay away, now crawls home to you on his knees. 

One day he wasn't, and the very next day, he was. 

You think that’s enough for you, but Dabi knows it’s too much for him. 

…

The sound of your window creakily opening no longer scares you in the middle of the night. If anything, it brings you a sick sense of comfort. 

Dabi slides through your living room balcony with ease, far too familiar with the routine of navigating your apartment in the dark. It does the job for him—keeps him out of the cold, gives him a bed to sleep in, a roof over his head. He finds that he enjoys the perks of your shitty building complex. 

Oh, and you're there, too. But, he swears that has nothing to do with the magnetic urge that keeps pulling him back to the fire escape on the fourth floor that remains unlocked. 

He opens your cabinets in search of something, anything, to fill his stomach in the slightest. He’s thin, almost alarmingly so, if you didn't know him—didn’t know his body is constantly working against him, eagerly taking the destruction he so carelessly puts it through.

Your sudden voice doesn't scare him. He doesn't so much as flinch at your clear tone in the silence of your home. 

“Cremation.” 

He briefly looks at you over his shoulder, humorously expressionless, before turning his back to you and rummaging through the cabinet again. 

“Gesundheit,” he scoffs.  

“It’s what your name means,” you breathe, tone still devoid of any emotion he can detect—or deflect. 

The realization burns him like his quirk, oddly painless but still alarmingly there. He holds his breath without realizing it, and its not until he coughs that he mindlessly exhales. 

Dabi. Cremation. 

True, he thinks. It’s no secret by any means, but he still finds his muscles tensing up as if you’d just said something you shouldn’t have. 

He doesn’t let his facade falter as he plucks a box of saltines from your cabinet. “Doesn't take a genius to do a basic translate search.”

“It’s not your real name,” you state, addressing the elephant infiltrating the room.

And at this, he fully turns to you. You stand in the entryway of the dark kitchen, arms crossed and eyes filled with sleep (or lack thereof, Dabi isn't sure he can tell the difference just yet). 

You're not angry. No, he's seen you angry before. This is different, harder. It's almost stoic. And while Dabi can’t put his finger on the exact feeling of the pit in his stomach, he knows he doesn’t like it.

He sticks his hand in the cardboard box before plucking a cracker and plopping the snack in his mouth. The salt burns the cuts on his lips when he sarcastically speaks, “You’re on fire with the observations today.” 

He watches you shrug, expression still void of any true indication of whatever your heart is feeling. The only light in the tiny apartment comes from the stove behind him. He can just make out your silhouette and barely your face through hardened focus and adjusting eyes. 

He thinks he’s grateful for that. He doesn’t want to see the details of your dissapointment when you see the real him. 

“Figured it was a bit too coincidental,” you rest against the doorframe. Dabi takes it as a good sign, you're not stiff. 

“Quirks don’t even manifest until a few years after birth, unless you were unnamed for the first five years of your life.”

Should’ve been, he bitterly thinks. Things would've been easier that way. 

He bites his tongue. 

The only sound that can be heard is the crunching of his teeth against the cracker he gnaws on. After a moment, he offers you one. You don’t move a muscle at his extended hand. He lets it sink back slowly, defeated, as he clears his throat. 

“It fits, doesn't it?”

It’s a rhetorical question, one he doesn’t actually expect you to answer. Because his name is all that’s known of him. Of course it should fit. Because when you look at him—his peeling and charred skin and hand that wields nothing but pain—it’s evident that all he can do is cremate.

His breath hitches when you speak up. 

“To some, sure,” you decide. 

With the way his chest tightens at your declaration, Dabi decides he doesn't like your tone. 

He shields himself with his bark. “What’s that mean?”

“It means I want to call you something different,” you ache, but Dabi can read between the cracks you let falter. I deserve to call you something different, is what your heart bleeds onto the floor. I’m different. 

He refuses to let that be the truth. 

“Didn't think you’d be one for pet names, doll.” He tosses the half-eaten box back into your cabinet, lazily shutting the wood and wiping his crumby hands on his sleeves. 

“I don’t see you how they see you,” your voice is stern now, he hears the determination in your shaky words. “I want to know your name.”

Your real one, the lines read once again. But in a split second, Dabi realizes he’s come too far to ruin whatever this is now.

“Fat chance in hell,” he dismisses, brushing your shoulder as he leaves the kitchen. 

You’re quick to follow—as you always are, he’s begun to notice. You're like a mosquito constantly buzzing in his ear. No matter how many times he swats and repels, you come back stronger. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t hate it. 

“Please.”

“No,” he’s even quicker to bore. “M’not dragging you into my shit.”

Too late, the voice in the back of his mind laughs. He’s always been his own worst enemy.

“There's more to you,” you continue to press, wanting something tangible, more from him. “You're not just what they make of you. You're a person, someone's son, someone’s–”

“Don't,” a balloon bursts behind his eyelids. His voice comes louder than ever before and it unsettles you, him, and the floorboards beneath your toes. 

“Don't you ever...fucking say that again. You hear me?” With his finger in your face, Dabi shakes. He prays to whoever is listening that you see it as fury, and not what it truly is—fear. 

And based on the tears flooding your eyes, he’d bet money he doesn't have that he’s right. In the silence of your home, you nod.

Dabi decides he’s had enough for one night, done enough to make you hate him just the right amount to forget about fixing him. 

On the way out, Dabi mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “Say something stupid like that one more time and you'll never see me again.” 

…

Dabi is exhausted.

His burner rings obnoxiously through the bedroom in the middle of the night. 

You’ve begun to associate the loud melody with the feeling of a knife—the blade cruelly trickling its tip against your skin. Cold, sharp, barely applying enough pressure to make you hyperaware of its potential to rip everything you've ever known away from you with a mere movement forward.

You never know who’s on the other end of the line, and this time is no different. When the infamous sound sends a chill up your spine, Dabi answers it without a second thought. He wordlessly picks up, listens intently, and hangs up as quickly as it rang. 

Then, he’s out of bed and putting his shoes on. 

He knows you're not asleep, so there's no point in pretending to be when you crawl out of bed and follow him to the den of your home. 

He grabs the remote, flicks the television on, and eagerly surfs the channels until he lands on the local news. Endeavor runs through the barren and obliterated streets of downtown, defending the city and fighting some… creature. You don't miss the way Dabi’s eyes don't blink whenever the hero is on screen. 

He’s too focused, too emotional when it comes to him. It's unlike anything you've ever seen from him, and you're tired of pretending not to see the smothering fire in his eyes whenever the man is brought into discussion. 

The reporter on the screen flips to another battle somewhere else in the city, with other heroes and other creatures and other things that should matter right now but for some reason don't. Because when Dabi finally takes his eyes off the screen to slip into his shoes, you spill. 

“Why him?”

He harshly tightens the laces of his boot, “Huh?”

“Endeavor,” falls from your lips, and he nearly hisses at the sound of the name on your tongue. “Why him out of all heroes?”

He hesitates in the slightest. The average eye wouldn't have noticed his pause, but you know him. You see the way he clenches his jaw and fiddles with the staples sealing his chin. 

He merely shrugs before tying his other lace, “He’s number one.”

“He wasn't always,” you contest, a bit too accusatory for his liking.

“Why does it matter?” Dabi bites. Bites the hand that feels him, shelters him, listens to him and chooses to remain quiet with what it knows. He bites the hand that loves him, and he almost regrets it when he sees your slight shock.

Almost.

His stomach churns as he watches you slightly falter before finding your footing once more. “It seems to matter to you.” 

So it matters to me, your heart aches to drill into his rock-solid mind. His eyes feel hot on your skin as he shakes his head and stands from where he sits. 

“He’s not a good guy, none of ‘em are.” 

“How do you know?”

His grip on his coat tightens in frustration. “I have a ton of shit on him. He’s not the savior you think he is.”

“I don’t think he’s a savior,” you retort, and it comes out a bit childish, like a belief you wish to convince yourself of. “I don’t know him.”

“But you trust him,” Dabi is quick to jump, almost as if you've fallen right into his trap. He looks a bit wild, as if you’re prey in his hands, saying all the right things so sweetly just for him to do what a predator does and hunt. Sink his teeth into your flesh and ruin you for the thrill of it. 

“Cause he’s the face of the fuckin’ country?” he coos with a venomously fake smile. “Cause he’s big and strong and always does the good thing, right?”

He’s trying to scare you, you know this—but you’ve never been scared of Dabi. Not when he’s tried to make you be, not when he’s done unspeakable things. He doesn’t scare you, but he’s upsetting you. He’s being mean, which isn't new to you but still rare enough to sting. 

“I trust you,” your voice cracks, making his stomach churn with shame, “so if you don’t trust him, then I trust you have a good reason not to.” 

Silence overtakes the room and Dabi’s chest burns with bile rising. 

You trust him? On what grounds? What reason has he given you to just hand over your patience without a fight, without a reason? 

Most importantly, if the thought of you trusting him makes him sick to his fucking stomach, then why does he find his lips moving before he can stop himself? 

“He beats his kids.”

The television cuts to a commercial. A car drives by below, honking furiously at something or other. He says it casually, eyes looking away from yours. 

Your voice is barely heard, “His kids?” 

You didn't even know he had kids. Come to think of it, you knew of one boy. Fire and ice who attends the hero facility downtown that's always getting into trouble. Set to follow in his father's footsteps, according to the tabloids. 

Dabi’s face doesn't falter at your surprise, immune to the violence he knows lives within his words. “Wife, too.”

The pieces don't add up in your mind. Dabi’s never been one for morals, not one for evening the tides and setting the universe straight when it comes to what's right and what's wrong. He does what he wants, he’s selfish. So why on earth would he care about a tragedy that doesn't involve him? 

He interrupts your thoughts when he walks over to the front door. The sound of him fiddling with the lock makes your heart drop—because it means he’s leaving, and for how long, you never know.

“Doesn’t anymore, apparently, but he did for years,” he scoffs in disgust. “Claims he’s turned a new leaf. Wants to be father of the year, all of a sudden.”

Leaving before you can process any thoughts to convey into words, he sneaks through your door without a second thought.

“The good guys aren't actually good, y’know,” he warns as he leaves you.

You don’t see him for two weeks. 

…

Dabi doesn't fuck you with caution. 

It's the same every time. Rough, quick, desperate. You on your stomach and him towering behind you. He doesn't look at you or say much other than a grunt or curse here and there. Always pulls out, if he even cums, and always leaves right after, if not in the middle of the night. 

But that doesn't mean it’s not good. Because fuck, it's great. 

While short-lived and based on nothing but selfish, primal needs, it's a private moment of feeling nothing but him. His hands are everywhere and his teeth are never too far behind. His skin is on fire and his pace is nothing short of eager. 

Your back is arched as your face is pressed to the mattress. You feel his cock throb as it swells against the insides of your walls with every rushed and eager thrust. 

“Fuck, please,” he hears you breathily whine, and you feel his smirk against the skin of your back. 

He uses your polite desperation to reward you, snap his hips extra hard and bury himself to the hilt of your cunt. He sits and burns inside of you, grip tight on your waist as he pulls you as close to him as he can without swallowing you whole. 

His tip dances directly at the opening of your cervix, just barely brushing the overly tender spot with a feather-light prodding that somehow feels like too much and not enough. He lets himself continue to stretch you, to mold you, to enjoy the only thing he believes was made for him before he ruins it. 

He feels you repeatedly clench around him as you mewl, “Please, more please.” You’re already completely spent when you plead, “Please, Dabi.”

And just like that, a switch is flipped inside of him.

His grip on your hips tightens, “Don’t.”

He goes to pull out of you completely, but your cry from his movement halts his hips. “Oh, nnnngh, Dabi—!”

In a whirl, you're flipped onto your back and met with a harsh gaze. 

“Don’t,” he growls into your throat, “call me that.”

Frozen in place from both shock and pure need, you airily gasp when you feel his cock head brushing itself through your folds. With a scarred wrist, Dabi swipes his tip between your folds, eyes fully absorbing and watching your expression twitch with every sensitive brush. 

“Touya,” he tells you through a slack jaw, watching your eyelids flutter at the teasing.

He pushes himself into your cunt, not fully, but enough for you to cry in slight release, before pulling out to where his tip is the only part of him swallowed by you. 

“Touya,” he repeats, nearly chanting as he aches to engrain it into your system. So it’s all you’ll ever know, the only word your tongue will ever taste from now on, no matter who is sticking what inside of you. He works to make your body remember that the only thing it should think of when feeling the slight stretch of your throbbing cunt is—

“Touya,” he bleeds. It almost doesn’t even sound like a word. “Say it. Touya.”

And you do. It crawls breathy and drunk from your throat as if your lips were made to form its syllables. Like a holy mantra falling from your lips, his whole body shivers when he hears your sweet heaves. 

“Touya,” is whimpered into his lips.

He holds his breath for a beat, before shakily recollecting himself from his quickly approaching high and readjusting his grip on your jaw.

“Again, fuck.” 

“Touya,” you gasp at his now snapping hips. It’s deeper, slower, and even more desperate than you thought it was before. It's messy and tired and he cradles you in his palms as you chant his name like a prayer.

Touya. Touya. Touya.

He abruptly finishes inside of you, his spurting warmth easily sending you over the edge, too. 

While it was something that was always offered, Touya has never once come inside of you, always choosing to pull out last second, if he finished at all. You savor the moment, letting him rut his cum into you until your both dry with exhaustion. 

Breathing returns to a normal rate and Touya lets himself soften inside of you. With his head burrowed in your neck, he makes a move to pull out of you. To leave, your chest tightens at the realization, so on instinct, you let your legs wrap around his torso, crossing your ankles and keeping him as your own for just a little bit longer.

Without a fight, he lets you. He lets himself stay inside of you as he drifts to sleep in your hold.

“Touya,” he hears you coo, listens to you taste it on your tongue and determine that you like its flavor.

“S’pretty,” you decide in a sleeping daze. “Fits you better.”

Dabi drifts to sleep thinking about the irony of that statement.

…

The puzzle pieces itself together rather quickly after that. 

It turns out Endeavor does have kids—four, to be exact. Three boys and a girl, all different equations of fire and ice and grief. 

It's not hard to find articles on what happened at Sekoto Peak. What happened to Touya Todoroki, the boy who died for nothing, who you now know somehow sits alive on your couch with a bowl of ramen noodles and a wet head.

He focuses on the television before him. A cheesy horror film from the late 80s plays through the grainy screen. His feet are resting on top of the coffee table and the bowl in his lap is steaming. He uses his chopsticks to dive in regardless of its heat. 

Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, you can smell your eucalyptus shampoo in his hair from where you sit. Though his head is still damp, you can tell the color has gotten lighter. While still practically jet black all over, you're able to see the slightest tint of light peeking through his roots. You know better than to ask, but you're sure your guess is as good as any. 

Touya must feel your gaze on him because his eyes flicker to the side where you quietly admire his profile. Through a mouthful of noodles and steaming broth, he mumbles. 

“What’re you doing?”

You smile at the lack of enunciation in his words before innocently shaking your head. “Nothing.”

Unconvinced, his eyes narrow. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” he accuses. 

You roll your eyes out of habit though your heart is anything but irritated, “What, I can’t look at you, now?”

He uses the next bite he takes to hide the smirk growing on his face. “Not with that stupid look on your face.”

He takes pride in watching you get flustered, scrunching your nose and giggling out a horrified, “What look?”

He reaches across the couch to close the gap between the two of you, before flicking your forehead.

“That look,” he declares.

He doesn't move back to where he was sitting. He lets himself remain next to you, your head lightly resting on his shoulder as the sound of the movie webs throughout your living room.

It’s easy, too easy. It’s natural and warm and feels like the closest thing to a home he’s ever held in his calloused and weeping palms. 

And Touya is selfish. 

He wants to grasp onto it, white-knuckled and pressing crescents into his palms—he wants to keep you. Wants to keep this. But he knows better. 

Touya knows that the stupid look on your face was one of love. Pure and undeniable. But he doesn't let himself think too much about it. 

…

The weather changes with the wind, and it’s colder in Japan when Touya gives you a piece of him you never thought you’d get. 

He’s just arrived back from god knows where doing god knows what, but you’ve learned not to question it. You welcome him in every time with a warm smile and an urge to hold him, and he thinks maybe thats why he hears himself suddenly spilling.

“Saw him today,” he breathes evenly.

His words hold no context, no prior conversation triggering his statement. It just exists in the space between the two of you on the couch, and the ball is in your court. 

Your head tilts in careful thought, “Who?”

“Downtown,” he ignores your question, “cornered him for a second and everything.”

And though you know nothing and shouldn’t be able to understand the man beside you, you do.

You feel his pain in the way his eyebrow twitches, how his fingers crack against his palms. You might not get it, but you try. You’ll always try for Touya. 

You encourage him, “And what happened?”

The wind howls outside, and you feel your home settle beneath its harsh hit. The walls crack with movement as the two of you remain seated beside one another. 

After a moment, Touya clears his throat. 

“Nothing,” he bitterly laughs to himself. “Absolutely nothing.”

The tea in your hand buzzes heat through its mug, and it feels like Touya’s touch. When he’s careful and cautious and places his hands on your stomach, treating you like glass he needs to mold. 

“Looked me dead in the eyes, felt my fuckin’ flame, and—” he cuts himself off at the emotion crawling into his words with a cough, “and nothing.”

You say nothing, but Touya knows that nothing needs to be said. He can sit on his couch with the tea you made him and the look you're giving him and he knows he can trust you. As much as he doesn't want to, he can. 

With his head hung low in shame, he rips off the only bandaid he’s ever had for the deepest wound he never got the chance to properly clean.

“He’s my old man,” he harshly swallows. 

After a moment of silence, he drags his head up from the floor. 

You're still looking at him the same, eyes dancing with love and some sick want to understand him. 

You simply reach across the cushion and squeeze his hand. 

“I know,” you whisper. 

And in what Touya imagined to be an earth-shattering conversation, he feels the corner of his mouth pulling upwards into an ironic smile.

“’Course you do,” he laughs under his breath. It's not malicious or accusatory, it's a matter of fact. 

Because of course, you know. Of course, you would see through his master puppetry and barring fangs. Of course, it wouldn't change how you see him.

Of course.

In what should be a terrifying moment, Touya lets himself smile. He shakes his head as he sighs, “Father of the fuckin’ year, right?”

…

“M’gonna do something,” Touya tells you solemnly one afternoon in bed, “and you’re gonna hate me for it.”

The freshly setting sun shines through the window, and you can feel its heat warming up your legs through the frame. The rays feel oddly contrasting to his cloudy day words. 

You open your eyes to find his. They’re already looking back at you, glasslike as they flicker across your features. Like he’s searching for something neither of you have an answer to. 

Your foot brushes against his calf as you shift to face him. 

“I could never hate you,” you softly remind him, “you know that.”

Touya fights the urge to roll his eyes, and you bite back a smile at the agitation wrinkles forming on his forehead. Your fingers move without thinking, using your thumb to iron and smooth over his delicate skin. 

“Fine,” he huffs, but you don’t miss the way he softens beneath your touch.

 “I’m gonna do something and you’re gonna yell at me for it,” he follows up more gentle this time, like a tainted whisper afraid to be too loud in the honeyed quietness of your home. 

It fills your stomach with a familiar sense of unease. 

“Well, do you deserve to be yelled at?”

He softly smiles, one equal parts of happy and sad, “Probably.”

You return the look as you sit on his words. He’s treading lightly, which is a thoughtful change compared to his usual acting on impulse.

He’s cautioning you. Preparing you for something bitter, and while you appreciate the warning, you know it can’t be anything good. It feels a lot like the breathtaking sunset before a disastrous overnight storm. 

Your voice is a whisper when you meekly ask him, “Can you tell me any more?”

And though the look on his face is regretful, his answer comes all the same. 

“No,” he swallows. 

And like the saint you are, Touya doesn’t know why he’s surprised when you merely bob your head in understanding and smile.

“Okay,” you nod.  

You expect that to be all. Because Touya’s never been one for words, let alone more than the bare minimum amount needed. And you were deemed lucky enough to get a vague warning. 

That should be the end of the conversation, but it’s not. 

Touya reaches for your wrist and his fingers dance along the bone lightly. He doesn’t remove his eyes from where they bore into yours when he breathes. 

“M’sorry.”

The words are foreign on his tongue, and his smallness unsettles you. Something feels wrong, like nausea brewing and waiting for bile to finally strike. 

You sit up, cradling his face in your palms as you coo words of reassurance. He feels cold, his body temperature ironically contrasting the heat that runs through his veins. He’s trying so hard to keep whatever he knows inside the clear cage of his mind, but you can practically hear the cracking of the glass beneath it’s weight. 

“Hey, no,” you exhale between kisses to his hairline. “No, don’t start that shit.”

Because while he doesn’t tell you everything, Touya tells you enough, and it’s more than you ever thought would be true with someone as out of reach as him. 

He may not tell you he loves you, but he says it through his eyes. He doesn’t tell you how he has so much respect for you it could swallow him whole, but sometimes, in the glimpse of his stolen glances, you can feel it. 

He can’t tell you what he’s going to do, but he can tell you he’s sorry. And that is something in and of itself. 

Touya closes his eyes at the affection. He wishes he could freeze time and savor this moment forever. Keep it as a souvenir to place on his shelf and keep him company on lonely nights to come. He doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to be anywhere else that isn't here, right now, with you.  

He does his best to soak in how your lips feel against his as you promise, “We’ll figure it out, yeah?”

But he’s not so sure, because while you think he’s apologizing for not being able to tell you more, Touya is apologizing for the hell he knows is to come. 

…

He’s dead. He has to be dead.

The screen in front of you feels like a cruel joke as it flashes clips of the scene. Not Dabi, but Touya, on national television—spewing venom to the entire country with a smile. . 

He speaks slowly, solemnly, like he's thought this through. Like he’s rehearsed and planned this all along. He speaks like a spiraling politician, and it cuts like a blade in your back.

You think about the television screens across the city right now.

A family whose gameshow night got rudely interrupted. A cafe whose workers are making their final lattes for the night, sweeping the floors and washing the counters as his rambling mindlessly plays in the background. You wonder if anybody is home at the Todoroki residence, if the television is on, or if it was unplugged years ago.

Touya is dead, and he warned you. 

That’s why he did this, why he planned this to unfold the way it did. He told you that you’d hate him, and like a fool, you told him he was wrong. 

A knock on the door is barely heard over your heavy breathing, and you debate on answering it.

It has to be the police, or maybe even a hero—looking for you, now an accomplice blinded by a mirror you thought was a window.

Your brain starts to spiral with thoughts that make your chest heave.

Did Touya turn himself in? Go down without a fight? Did someone see him leave your home? Had they known this entire time? 

Maybe they were waiting for the right moment to strike, for the dominoes to ripple so they can make their move when you’re too weak to defend yourself. Maybe he double-crossed you, blamed whatever he could on you before driving a getaway car in the opposite direction of your apartment. Maybe he never cared at all—maybe the realest thing you’d ever known was orchestrated from beginning to end. 

Another knock comes, this time more urgent and harsh. And there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable—so with tear-stained cheeks and shaking shoulders, you open the door.

And it’s Touya.

With white hair and soggy clothes, he stands in the hallway of your crumby apartment complex.

You want to laugh at the irony of it all. The first time he uses your actually door instead of window, he's a new man.

New hair, new name, a new look in his eye—one that swims of something you can't put your finger on. He’s alive and in front of you, and regardless of the anger overflowing your cup, you need to feel him.

So you pull him through the threshold, inside of your home, and against your skin. You feel the wet leather of his jacket, and smell the ash from the battle mixed with the coffee he had before he left this morning. 

He’s here, and you love him.

“I hate you,” your cries vibrate against his chest as you weakly push and punch at his shoulders. “I hate you, I fucking hate you.”

Touya lets you sob into his shirt. It’s covered in your tears and blood that’s not his. He lets you thrash and scream and crumple beneath his hold. 

He wants to say I told you so. I told you you’d hate me. 

“How could you do that,” he makes out between your hyperventilating and sobs, “how could you do that to me?”

His throat restricts with tears that can’t come as you melt against his body, “I would have never done that to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Touya breathes, and he repeats it. Says it again and again and again until it all bleeds together into nothing but syllables and sobs. 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m home, and I’m sorry. 

…

The bedroom is cold, the window slightly cracked open as Touya shuffles your quilted blanket off of his clammy body.

He always runs a bit hot at night, though he’s ironically ice to the touch when his quirk isn’t at work. 

Now on top of your comforter, his scarred palm lays open to you. He flinches every now and then as you delicately draw shapes into it with a painted fingernail. His eyes are closed, but he’s able to recognize the swirling form of your movements, the same ones you’ve drawn every night since he came back home to you.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this at peace. 

After everything, he’s still here. And not only is he still here, but he’s okay with that, because he’s with you. 

“I've never—” he hesitates, but the darkness illuminating the room gives him a surge of confidence. 

“I've never had this,” his voice is pained, nearly softer than silence itself.  

He feels your finger stop swirling for a moment, but it resumes just as quickly as it halted. He feels you alter your pattern, and with cleaner lines and softer edges, he’s able to recognize the heart you doodle on his skin.

“Had what?” you gently ask.

“A home,” Touya breathes, before correcting himself, “where I’m wanted.”  

You smile and Touya feels so loved he nearly makes himself sick. He feels so held, so wanted, so right in your bed and beneath your delicate fingertips. 

The stranger in your home. The outlaw who smells of your perfume. The boy who never got a second chance, but the man who got a third.

Touya has so much love for you that he doesn't know where to put it all.

But for a moment, when he looks at your smile and feels your fingertip tracing his palm, he sees it as you offering your open arms to hold any excess he can’t carry. 

He feels you grin against the scarring of his wrist. 

“Well,” you kiss the tender spot where skin meets stitching, “you might wanna get used to it.”

[corpsekiller]

𝙖 𝙠𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛 (𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨) — 𝙙𝙖𝙗𝙞

PAIRING. dabi x genderneutral!reader

WARNINGS. hurt/comfort, fluff, scars, mentions of violence and blood, mentioned murder if you squint

SYNOPSIS. dabi struggles with a strange longing for softness and peace that feels impossible to reach for someone like him. in a tender moment, you offer him a fragile spark of hope and comfort.

LENGTH. 1.987 words

MASTERLIST

For the longest time, Dabi wanted to be soft.

It's strange, craving to be known, to be seen despite the scars littering his body — the desire for someone to strip away the layers of his unbridled rage and wrap their fingers around his very core, dig their nails into the tender flesh until every gruesome feeling he's ever buried in the darkest corner of his mind oozes out like blood from a fresh wound.

And look—

He tried to lose this longing, really. Dabi doesn't remember how many times he found himself wandering through the depths of the night, how many streets he walked down and how many corners he rounded without looking over his shoulder, hoping it would find someone else to haunt — and yet, it always returns like a lost dog.

On most days, it sits idly behind his eyes and watches through a curtain of cerulean blue. Those days are easy for him. They're quiet, almost placid and he barely takes notice of it, this dog he despises with every inch of his frail body until he sinks into the cold mattress he found in another abandoned building and tries to find some peace where none is left for people like him.

Sometimes though, his want lingers on the tip of his tongue and scratches on the inside of his cheeks, tears at the stitches holding his face together until tender flesh bursts open — barking, growling, begging to be let out.

Dabi only swallows harshly, clenches his jaw and grits his teeth until the endless tension turns into a dull ache climbing through his skull and settling behind his temples. The others notice he's quieter on those days, but none of them care enough to ask. He's glad they don't.

It gets worse in spring.

There's a certain kind of grief that comes with the first days of April, a sadness that mourns what could have been and what will never be as the sun breaks through the clouds and kisses his cheeks with a warmth that doesn't quite reach under his skin. Dabi turns his head, pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice humming a familiar tune, and lets his gaze wander to your hands.

Nimble fingers twist the stems of a few flowers you picked and neatly weave them together before plucking another one and adding it to your collection. A cool breeze blows through his hair, tousling the strands that shadow his face even further as if to caress his head and sweep away the dreading feeling of sorrow that has begun to slip between his ribs and settle behind his sternum ever since the days started to get warmer.

His want unfurls in the cavity of his mouth. It paces behind his teeth, claws scraping the inside of his cheeks, whining for release. Dabi only bites his lip, sinks the edge of his canines into the supple flesh until he draws blood and senses the familiar coppery taste on the tip of his tongue.

Nonetheless, his fingers twitch at his sides. It's an unconscious reaction to his want's growling, its restlessness trembling through his chest in violent rattles. He wants to reach out, to test if his hands could hold something as delicate as the crown you're making without crushing it, but he knows better.

This isn't meant for him — not this kind of peace.

The dog snaps at him from inside his own ribs, furious at the refusal, its longing teeth bared against the bars of his will.

He hates it, truly.

And yet, he still wants to be soft so desperately, wants to break himself apart like the flower you hold between your fingers, gently picking at the rose-tinged petals until they descend to the ground and scatter around your legs. You don't seem to notice the agony glinting behind his gaze, don't see the way his hand trembles when he reaches out to caress yours, grazing his fingers over your knuckles almost as if to trade places with the flowers and receive the feeling of your gentle touch instead.

Oh, but that's the problem, isn't it?

This softness he yearns for was never made for his body — like an ill-fitting shirt two sizes too small, it'll burst open at the seams and leave him exposed — every scar, every fracture, every jagged edge laid bare for the world to see.

Truth is, he has always been too hard, too rough, made of nothing but sharp edges meant to cut and violent anger meant to burn everything he touches.

"What's going on in your head?" It's a simple question, a whisper of care that carries away with the wind rustling the branches of the trees above his head. Undisturbed, your fingers continue their work, weaving the stem of each flower into the other one, twisting them into a circle of petals and leaves.

Instead of replying, Dabi lets the silence stretch between you, taut and fragile like a rubber band about to snap, until you finally decide to break it.

"You don't always have to be the fire, you know?" Your eyes leave the task at hand to meet his. There's a tenderness there, a subtle invitation for him to step outside the walls he's built around himself. "You don't have to hurt to feel alive."

A flicker crosses his face, something uncertain and unguarded at the same time — a crack in the mask he usually wears so well, a glimpse of what lies beneath his hatred that passes as quickly as it came. Instead, his gaze drops to the flower crown resting in your lap as if he's regarding the delicacy of each petal and how easy it would be to crush them — oh, how easy it would be to crush you — and lets out a bitter laugh.

"These hands—," he pulls his own back slightly, his scarred fingers curling in as if they could sear anything that gets too close. "You think they’re meant for holding something as soft as this?" Dabi gestures to the flowers with a rough flick of his wrist, but there’s a hollow resignation in his voice. “My hands are covered in blood, they're not meant to hold something gently."

"And yet, they never hurt me," you reply and lean closer, letting your fingers brush against his. The warmth in your touch is oddly comforting, sweet and caring and so undeniably contradictory to everything he embodies that it causes him to flinch, almost as if expecting you to recoil once you realize what kind of abomination he truly is.

You don't.

Instead, you lace your fingers with his. For a moment, you close your eyes and focus on the tension that runs through his tendons and deems it impossible to steady his hands, how he retreats and seems to brace for something that never comes.

You faintly wonder if it's rejection he fears or perhaps even worse, abandonment.

"You don't understand... this is all I've got." Dabi lets out a hollow chuckle, a bitter sound soaked in resentment, and gestures vaguely to his hands where discolored scar tissue meets ivory skin. The very same ones that have left scorched marks across entire cities, across people and across every attempt at kindness he's ever known. "I was made to burn. It’s all I know."

"No." It's a simple reply, two letters holding so much weight that he can feel his shoulders cave in under it, and yet, he can't bring himself to move, can't rip his gaze away from your face as you speak. "You weren’t made to burn. You were just… left in the flames too long."

The dog quiets to a mere whimper.

His chapped lips part, but no sound dares to escape, the trace of his unspoken words lingering on the tip of his tongue. No one has ever said something like that to him. No one has ever cared to see him as more than just a villain — as a product of his cruel past — and the realization stirs a long-forgotten ache in his chest, one he's spent years burying under layers of rage.

"Do you ever think about it?" you ask softly. "Who you might have been… if things were different?"

The question slices through him, raw and jagged. Defeated, he drops his head and allows his eyes to drift back to the flower crown still resting on your lap, the image of your fingers braiding delicate stems together with so much caution as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Sometimes," he admits quietly and pulls his hand out of your grasp, pressing it to his chest, right above his heart. "But it doesn’t matter, does it? None of that matters anymore. Every choice has been ripped from me and all that's left... all that's left is this hollow shell of who I could have been."

"That's not true," you argue softly, reaching up to cradle his cheek and tilt his head to meet his gaze. "You can't change the past, but you can still choose what you could be."

Abruptly, he goes quiet, eyes tracing over your face like he's trying to search for a lie, like he's afraid he'll find nothing more than betrayal etched into the fine lines of your features. "What would I be, then?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, a quiet confession that seems to surprise even himself.

"Someone worth knowing," you reply, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of his white hair behind his pierced ear before placing the flower crown on top of his head. Your fingers trace over the soft curve of his cheekbone, not quite touching him, but hovering over his calloused skin.

For a fleeting second, Dabi tenses under the gentleness, but then he exhales, the tension melting away like frost in the morning sun. His shoulders slump, the weight of years spent bearing his anger and pain easing just a split fraction. As if on instinct, he tilts his head slightly and nuzzles his nose against the open palm of your hand, the flower crown slipping just slightly askew.

Tentatively, eyes flutter shut, and he leans into your touch as though it’s the only anchor in a storm he’s been battling for far too long. His breath hitches, a quiet sound that betrays the fortress of indifference he’s built around himself and despite his movements, the flower crown stays precariously on his head - a stark contrast to the scars and jagged edges that mark his life, and yet, somehow, it feels like it belongs to him.

"Don't," he finally rasps, his voice hoarse but not as sharp as before. "Don’t make me believe there’s anything left worth saving."

You don’t pull away. Instead, your thumb traces the edge of a particularly rough scar on his cheek, your touch soft enough to feel like an unspoken promise.

"I'm not making you believe anything," you reply, steady and unwavering. "I'm just reminding you it’s still your choice. You know, softness isn’t something you take... it's something you learn."

His lips twitch as though he wants to say something more, to argue, to fight, but instead, Dabi stays quiet. His hand, calloused and hesitant, brushes over yours where it rests against his face, holding it there as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

For the first time, there’s no fire in his eyes — no rage, no resentment, no bitterness. Just a flicker of something raw and unsure, a spark of hope too fragile to name.

"It doesn't suit me,” he finally mutters, his tone almost self-conscious as his fingers ghost over the edge of the flower crown. “But… maybe I'll keep it. Just for now."

Maybe he can't be soft anymore, but he can be kind, he decides.

That's more than enough.

Taglist: @justwolosers @jaerang @dabislittlemouse

[amywritesthings]

dabi. / day 08. nickname

fandom: my hero academia pairing: dabi x reader tags: MINORS DNI, 18+ smut, shower sex, petnames, light choking

for @thedrabblecollective's challenge / dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Baby isn't — ha — a nickname."

"It ain't?"

The rasp in Dabi's voice lifts in time with the scarred hand that curls around your neck. He thrusts for emphasis, pushing you further into the shower wall with a sharp gasp.

"Sounds like one to me."

His other hand slides along your thigh to hike it up higher, giving him more access to roll his hips into yours.

Your forehead stabilizes against the wall, panting heavily.

"It's — a petname."

You can feel Dabi's grin widening behind you. "Well, if you want me to just call you 'pet', you shoulda just said so."

[metranart]

"Yeah, baby—" his voice was a mix of a snicker and a heady groan, such a sultry tone it made you feel drunk. "Ride my tongue, you, sweet annoying thing," he praised with eyes shut close in concentration and utter enjoyment, "let your hips stutter against my face, like a good girl. Fuck—"

ft. Katsuki Bakugo & Dabi x reader, both thirsty for your attention, both willing to do whatever it takes to have you just for themselves, a complete story with strong overtones of jealousy, sexual frustration and possessiveness.

Bakugou & Dabi X Reader (Shameless smut teaser)

You still remember the day you met Bakugou Katsuki, better known to the world as Dynamight. 

You had been deliberating for weeks about leaving the League of Villains, Shigaraki was losing his temper and every day there were more innocent civilians killed and less progress towards their mutual goal. It was no longer the same League you had joined so long ago, All for One had changed it, deformed it and now their goals and yours were different. Same reason why you asked help from Hawks, you and Dabi never believe his change of sides and in the end, you were right. He helped you leave the League. 

"You'll be okay, (Y/N)" Hawks promised as he flied you away from the secret lair of the League of villains, "we'll protect you, the information you've given us is vital to be able to stay one step ahead of them," the Winged Hero encouraged when he noticed hesitation still present in your eyes, "don't feel bad, I know it wasn't your intention to betray them... after all, they are your friends," he paused to gauge your expressions and soon added, "... you're doing them a favor by trying to stop them, their path only leads to self-destruction. You'll see, everything will be okay." 

Hawks swears to you. The need for you to stand firm in your decision, imperative for the success of his mission. Nevertheless, the blonde still didn't trust you one hundred percent but only time would tell which side you were on. If you were a spy, they would find out, just had to put you under the watchful eye of a competent enough Hero, and that was when you were assigned to him.

Bakugou Katsuki. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Already an experienced ProHero after graduating from UA Academy as the best of his class. A full-fledged adult on his way up the charts.

You were welcomed into his penthouse temporarily while another safe house was found for you, he would protect you... and keep a close eye on your every move.

At first it was difficult for both to live together, Bakugou was too open with his opinion about the League. "They are bumps who didn't have the courage to be anything more than villains." And your insistence on defending them always sparked a debate. "They are people rejected by society for being different... you wouldn't know it, since you fit perfectly into the gears of this rotten mechanism."

Bakugou barked his protests at you, even so, you never backed down, always standing firm before his imposing personality. You were a beautiful contradiction, the champagne-haired man had never met someone like you. You tempered and sailed his explosive temperament without fear or intimidation and that had him captivated, perplexed, highlymesmerized. Slowly, earning yourself a special place in his complicated heart, crawling under his skin despite his protests... every day, there was less screaming and more laughter, less fighting and more flirting. 

Bakugou Katsuki's bleeding heart had learned to race at dangerous speeds in your presence, and more so, when an accidental, playful romp led to this embarrassing situation: Him on top of you in the living room couch, pinning your petite form under his massive one.

Weeks ago, you’d been quarreling with him no end, and he’d appeared all the less happy to have you as a roommate, like an unwelcome guest. And now here he was, nested between your spread legs, sucking your clit into his mouth and nibbling on it like it was his favorite candy.

Your legs twitched as his mouth worked with expert dexterity and shot pleasure up your spine, arching your back off the couch just for your pussy to meet his face in a blunter smash. Even so, he kept pushing you down on him, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Katsuki Bakugou was greedy, greedier than you ever anticipated. Even greedier than him.

His tongue licked a particularly skillful heart-shaped form over your clit and your thoughts abandoned the memory of that crispy skin and cerulean eyes that insisted on chasing you. Your hands shot down to grab him by his sweaty neck just to end up, scrunching into his hair to pull him hard. 

"Yeah, baby—" his voice was a mix of a snicker and a heady groan, such a sultry tone it made you feel drunk. "Ride my tongue, you sweet annoying, thing," he praised with eyes shut close in concentration and utter enjoyment, "let your hips stutter against my face. Fuck— I love it so damn much!" 

Bakugou licked and sucked with insatiable hunger. You didn’t even realize you kept smashing your throbbing cunt into his mouth until a hot trail of spit ran down your thighs, down the curve of your ass.

"I, myself, love a messy pus-"

"-Bakugou." Your complaint cut him midsentence, but his playful spank on the side of your ass, startled you. 

"What the fuck did I just say, (Y/N)?" he growled into your folds, your pussy twitching in tandem. A moan forcing its way from your throat to become a timid and embarrassed purr.

"I-I mean, Katsuki." He had cornered you to use his first name, after all, he was going to have his mouth on your pussy.

He hummed pleased, and in appreciation, put his whole mouth on you and making a seal with his lips, sucked hard. Your hips twitched and you whimpered, fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

He gripped your hips a little harder, brought you closer, fingers massaging teasingly into your soft flesh. His tongue flicked wildly against you. The wet, lapping sound ridiculously and unfairly lewd.

He made a pleased, humming growl against you, and the vibrations made you shiver, made your eyes flutter closed. 

His mouth sucked in a hurried, excited breath, and then went back down, sloppy and hot and wet and so ready to make you cum. You were awfully close, painfully ready to burst when suddenly he stopped his movements all together like the expert tease that he was.

A slick-stained smirk peeked up at you from between your trembling thighs and his dripping chin, glazed in your juices, got cleaned up on your discarded panties.  

“I know, I know.” He sing sang pretending to be apologetic. “Is just that I want us to cum together the first time.” Bakugou chuckled quietly, adoring the way you couldn’t catch your breath, “I’m a romantic like that.”

He was an irremediable asshole, an incompressible tease, the worst kind of human being… and you were loving each little fiber of him, Damn it! He was so infuriating, effectively domesticating you in every possible way. 

“You ass,” eventually were able to mutter in a broken, ragged gasp, just managing to make him snicker even louder. Those deep crimson eyes drinking attentively every heave, pant and groan you had in you.

Your eyes fluttering open as you felt him fit himself between your tense thighs again, the thick length of his warm cock a huge distraction as it squeezed its massive girth against your sensitive, recently licked, folds. 

“You are the worst, Katsuki,” you meowled aggravated, "using me as a glorified cocksleeve-"

His strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to swallow your complains and grumbles with a savory kiss, allowing only the moaning pleasure to flood the living room, the feel of him through the thick fabric of his jeans, somehow more erotic than having him fully naked. 

“I’m going to take care of that pouty mouth of yours,” he warned you between gluttonous kisses, teeth grazing the corner of your mouth  before, in all suddenness, lifted you off the couch as if you weighted nothing and started to squeezed himself behind you, until his back was flush against the backrest and your body cuddled in front of him, close to be hanging from the edge of the sofa, if it wasn't for his arm holding you tight against him, strapping you safe to his muscular body.

"Just like that..." he muttered in a quiet grunt, more to himself, "...relax for me, pretty. Let me take care of everything."

“Bak-...Katsuki,” you breathed, correcting yourself before you could call him by his surname again.

He stared down at you from the rim of your shoulder, crimson-red eyes near reverent, and the entire new position crawled chills up your spine.

“Are you comfortable?” the Prohero asked you in a sultry purr and you nodded, dreamily. 

Strangely, you were more than comfortable, you felt immensely safe inside his covetous hug, two strong arms claiming you to its owner. The position carving each pectoral and abdominal muscle of Bakugou's body on your back. He kicked down his jeans until pooled at his ankles and then slowly shove your skirt further up until bunched around your waist and pushed your panties down your calves, letting them hang from one ankle, precariously. 

"Good, I need you to be comfortable," he stated in an odd, perverted pride, “…I’m quite big.” 

You squinted your eyes at him, playful doubt shining on your orbs, and he chuckled. “You’ll see.”

-

After countless encounters with Bakugou's possessive nature, he had tagged you as his and now, you felt worse than even since you had led him right into a trap... but that wasn't your intention. Apparently, Shigaraki had learned to read you better than you remembered and what was supposed to be a surprise attack turned into a full-blown fight.

"—Where's (Y/N), Deku?" Bakugou yelled at the green-haired Hero when he couldn't find you anywhere.

"She was behind me just now," Deku said but soon realized his mistake. "Dammit!"

ProHeroes and League members were fighting in every corner of the place, it was a real mess but even more disastrous was the fact that you were now cornered by the person you least wanted to see.

“Oi.” 

Dabi greeted you, blue flames dancing across his slender fingers like a vivid threat, an amused smirk gracing his lips almost offensively. 

“Was it seven months?” those lips pursed, mischievously, at how uncomfortable he was making you. “I must admit, I was almost hoping to see you, all round and heavy, with my child in that cute belly.” You squirmed visibly at the thought, “after all, we used to fuck like rabbits,” he took one step towards you and you took one step away, “so full of disappointments—my little, beautiful traitor."

Shallow breaths contaminated your peace and in a foolish hope you tried to run but he was expecting it, and in an unfortunate turn, you found yourself draped by two strong, scarred arms. Hot breath fanning your ear. 

“My memory never does you justice,” his voice shared in a hiss and grunted, jaw tensing, and with practiced composure put the fire down in his fingers. You noticed it.

"I thought you wanted to crisp me to death." Dabi entertained your little outburst with sadistic patience. Circling a loop of blue flames between his fingers to keep you on your toes. "—Don't tell me you actually miss me." You scoffed openly and the flame-user extended a glowing palm for it to blaze in front of your face. 

“You can’t just keep burning everyone you don’t like—” 

He happily ignored you. The hot glare of his palm smoldered into the bursting blue of his flames as they lit up his fingers, menacingly. 

“Says who?” Cerulean eyes spared a glance down at you, with a droll look on his face that put the hair in your arm on end. "Dynamight?"

Your tensed frame hooked the corner of his lips farther up. "Fond of your new boy toy? such a shame," he muttered, looking down on you with a cheeky smirk, "I’m gonna break him."

Those shinning, crazed eyes suddenly took a side-long inspection of your reaction, then hardened ever so slightly to see the poorly hidden condemnation on your face.“Don't fucking tell me ya love him.” He demanded quietly, heavily sarcastic to hide his interested disdain and your silence only made his flames fan harder with a hint of unrequested but very real, jealousy. 

“Him or me?" Dabi asked oddly calm, "You ought to solve this... before I do.....”

*READ THE COMPLETE 8000 WORD COMISSION IN MY PATREON. (Includes heavy/possessive/mouthwatering smut and NSFW art from scenes of the fic. Plus, lot of MHA NSFW content in general)

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

Dabi drabble - Worship

Dabi x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Dabi needs to be loved and you're enthusiastic about doing just that. Words: 1444 Warnings: NSFW, angst?, oral

A/N: Just, after the Dabi v Endeavor & Shoto episode I had a lot of feelings and like, fuck I just want to love him, he just needs to be loved. ANYWAY, basically headcanons that turned into a small fic which is under the cut x

~MDNI~

Dabi who stays clothed during sex, opting for the dark or dimly lit rooms to conceal his body from view Dabi who doesn't often sleep with people so he prefers strangers and quickies in bar toilets or alley ways Dabi who fucks as an outlet more than for his pleasure, a way to get some sort of release from the feelings that seem to consume him Dabi who prefers sluts that are easy to pick up and walk away from after, not having to worry about their feelings or anything Dabi who accidentally bumped in to you, kind and vibrant, walking sunshine that could light up the darkest room and didn't shy away from his scarred face, instead smiling warmly up at him Dabi who does everything he can to make himself a part your life and it works Dabi who now has this sweet thing that presses kisses to the lines of staples on his face, who refuses to turn the light off or let him stay clothed during sex Dabi who now has you, on your knees, worshiping him with nothing short of love in your eyes Dabi who feels the sting of his eyes trying to cry because how could something so beautiful, so sweet and pure, look at him like that Dabi who doesn't think he could ever love or be loved, now finds himself head over heels for you and as he stared into your eyes he could see the same love reflected back for him

Kissing Dabi was always so hot, his lips dry but so hot to the touch, his breath searing in a way that took your breath and you loved it. Loves the way his fingers gripped your waist, fingers sinking into soft skin with enough force to bruise before loosening his grip. Dabi was always so rough and you loved it but lately he'd softened, been gentler, more intimate. Now he'd take his time with you, allowing you to look over his body instead of blocking your view by kissing you. With this new more relaxed side of him you'd decided to try something else, something you wanted to do knew he wouldn't allow previously.

That's how you ended up with Dabi leant against the wall, bare chested and with his trousers around his ankles. Your hands massaged up his thighs, thumbs pressing against his groin before tracing a hand up to grip his already hard cock. As your eyes flicked up you smiled, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Dabi was almost trembling under your gaze, his eyes wide and his lips twitching down, "don't, you don't have to do this y'know, I don't need". You cut him off, "I want to, I want you to know how much I want to. You need to know how much I want to so shut up and let me okay?" And who was he to stop you, to say no to you because god he'd burn the world for you. So how hard could it be to be bare for you and let you worship him? Very, the answer was very because every fiber of his being said to push you away, to stop you from looking at him but instead he pressed himself against the wall, palms flat as if trying to steady himself.

Finally you leant forward, tongue sliding over his tip making his eyes flutter shut as he sucked in a sharp breath. Curling your fingers around his base and squeezing slightly as you press wet, hot kisses along the underside of his shaft, glancing up to watch his face as you did. Dabi's breathing was ragged from both nerves and pleasure, hitching as you take him into your mouth, tongue pressing against his underside as you hollow your cheeks. You take him in slow, enjoying the feel of his thigh tensing under hand. By the time your lips meet your fist his tip is hitting the back of your throat and it takes a deep breath through your nose not to gag as you hold for a moment before backing off. You set a steady pace, on the slower side, intimate, hand now following your lips as he groans, it's low and throaty and turns you on but you remind yourself your pleasure can wait.

The hand on his thigh massages at his skin, up over his lower stomach which tenses and shifts with his breaths, moving higher to brush your fingers over his nipples pulling another sharp breath in from Dabi, his head tilting back against the wall. Circling your middle finger over the peak, humming around his cock as you felt the nipple harden under your touch and you rolled it between thumb and index. Dabi felt consuming heat swallowing him, the heat was nothing like his searing, painful flames, no, this heat was different. It was the sort of heat that only you could make him feel, a heat that was so sweet it was almost sickening as it seeped into the depths of his stomach, pooling and growing dense, tight.

The hand around his cock slid to cup his balls, squeezing them just right and he grunted, hand coming forward to press against the top of your head. His fingers curling to grip your hair just as you finally got his entire length into your mouth, tip now pressed down into your throat making tears rim your eyes and clump your lashes. The tuft of white hair felt surprisingly soft under your nose as you breathed in deeply, throat desperately swallowing him in an attempt to remove the intrusion. Your fingers left his nipple to press against his inner thigh, trying to steady yourself as you bobbed your head with a faster pace, occasionally stopping to lick over his tip and look up at him. The quivering muscle under hand was a good indication he was close and you sat back, “Dabi?” all you got was a grunt, his eyes still squeezed shut and you pouted, “Dabi, look at me, please?” your voice was pleading, pitching in to a whine at the end and he couldn’t ignore it.

Swollen, glossy lips and bright, watery eyes are what looked back at him and it took everything not to shut his own again, hell the image would be burnt into his memory for life and if he wasn’t so intent on paying attention to you he could’ve cum on the spot. “I want you to look at me when you cum, please, want to see you baby.” You’d happily always been the submissive one so a request like that, one that felt almost like a command had him choking on his own breath but he nodded, afraid words would fail him. He squeezed the handful of your hair he had tighter and you smiled, delving back in with a moan. Your eyes didn't leave his face as you returned to the faster pace, hand massaging his balls still as you bobbed your head.

Suddenly his grip tightened, eyes widening and lips parting, he tugged harshly towards himself forcing you back down his cock as he moaned your name, broken and almost whiny, a sound you never imagined Dabi could make but wanted nothing more than to hear again. His almost unbearably hot cum hit your throat with force bringing more tears to your eyes, both hands planted on his thighs as your nails bit into his skin. His hips bucked against your mouth, grinding your nose against his pelvis as he panted through his orgasm, eyes lidded but still on yours. You stayed still, reminding yourself to breath slowly and deeply through your nose as you swallowed every drop of cum he pumped into you, tongue lapping against him gently as you waited. Dabi took a shaky breath, fingers loosening and letting you free although you waited a few beats before pulling away, softly licking over him as if it was an honor to consume what he gave and it proved too much for him, eyes finally closing again as he groaned, hand coming up to cover his face making you laugh lightly.

Pressing gentle kisses to his inner thigh, Dabi finally collected himself enough to look back down at you, smiling up at him warmly, “Love you Dabi.” He reached down to grab your face, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours, breaking it for a brief moment to whisper against your lips, “Love you too.” It might have been hard for him to let you have your way like this but by the end he was definitely going to let you have your way again.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, reverse cowgirl, creampie, mentions of ovulation, dom!Dabi, Dabi is a warning himself, ass spanking

A/N: what starts as a reckless kiss ignites into a desperate need you can't control. It's frustrating to admit, but ovulation turns you into a desperate, needy bitch — craving dick you shouldn’t want so badly...

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Who would’ve thought a single heated makeout session would leave you completely at Dabi’s mercy, again? Ah, you hated how vulnerable you felt while ovulating, every nerve in your body betraying you with raw, undeniable need for being stuffed with a dick.

Dabi’s scarred hands trailed over the skin of your back. Heat radiated from his fingertips, leaving a lingering ache that was equal parts thrilling and dangerous.

With a sudden, fluid motion, one of his hands captured both your wrists, twisting them behind your back in a firm, unyielding grip. The restraint forced you to arch, pressing your chest forward and sticking your ass out, leaving you utterly exposed beneath his smoldering gaze.

A low, involuntary moan spilled from your lips as the tension between pain and pleasure coiled deep within you. 

His breath ghosted over your ear, his voice a rough, sinful murmur. "Keep making sounds like that, and I might not let you go, never."

In a sudden shift, you paused riding his dick in a reverse cowgirl position, drawing yourself up and away from his throbbing cock. Your fingers wandered down to your pussy, delicately tracing circles around your clit, spreading the slick wetness that had gathered at your entrance over your sensitive folds, only to spank them a few times later with the hood of your palm. Then, with deliberate slowness, your hand reached out for Dabi’s dick again, and guided his angry red tip to the very brink of your entrance. You tantalized both of you, using just the head of his cock to rub your slit and part your swollen labia. "Fuck," you whined.

She’s oozing juices like the slit in an overripe peach, Dabi smirked to himself, amused by just how obscenely cute the comparison truly was. He couldn’t take his eyes off your strait pussy as you guided his dick back into your cunt, trying your best to not spread your legs too wide to make yourself tight for him.

The skirt he had gifted you the day prior — a scandalously short piece — flared with each descent, its hem dancing teasingly up your thighs, showing the thick, plushy meat of your ass. The black stockings, tight and silky, sculpted your legs, accentuating every curve and contour as they ended in the middle of your thighs. Your shirt lay forgotten somewhere in the shadows of Dabi’s room, leaving you only in your bra, straps slipping carelessly off your shoulders. It sat slightly askew, offering a teasing glimpse of soft, firm skin as your breasts bounced while you rode your boyfriend’s cock.

One scarred hand improved the grip on both your wrists, pressing them tightly behind your back, pinning you in place as he controlled your movements. The other rested lazily on the arm of the couch, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke curling lazily around his face. Dabi’s cerulean eyes, sharp and lidded, were locked on your ass, watching how his cock disappeared into your soaked pussy from behind. His shirt had long been discarded, but he hadn’t bothered removing his pants. As the heated makeout session intensified minutes earlier, breathless and driven by need, he simply unzipped and freed his cock out of its confines.

The burn in your thighs intensified with every passing second, your trembling legs barely holding you upright as you struggled to maintain the punishing position. Each strained movement sent electric pulses through your body, your muscles taut and aching, yet utterly consumed by the way Dabi’s cock stretched and claimed your seeping cunt — relentless, demanding, leaving no inch untouched.

A sharp tug on your captured wrists wrenched you deeper into the overwhelming sensation, forcing your back into a perfect arch. The position left you entirely at his mercy. 

He spanked your ass, growling like an animal. “Faster, bitch. Fuck, I love how wet you are during these days.”

Every thrust pushed his veiny cock deeper, dragging over every sensitive spot deep within you, the stretch burning painfully. The obscene sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room. 

His azure eyes, dark and hungry, locked on where his dick disappeared into your abused cunt, the wetness between your legs leaving a pearly shine on the rock-hard shaft that made his lips curl. “Look at that,” Dabi muttered, his voice low, gravelly, like the rough edge of sandpaper against your skin. His smirk widened as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke, the heat of his gaze fixed on your pussy making your stomach tighten. “Taking me so well. Bet no one’s ever stretched your little cunt like this before. Such a needy bitch. Who’d have thought you’d get so damn needy just from a kiss? Didn’t figure you were the type to melt just from someone else’s spit on your tongue."

“Dabi!” Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your thighs trembling as you struggled to keep up with the pace of his hips pistoning into you and maintain the balance of the position. His cock was slamming into you without mercy.

“Keep going,” he commanded, his grip tightening on your wrists just enough to make you whimper, your body responding to his dominance even as it threatened to overwhelm you. “Don’t make me do all the fucking work.”

The sound of your slick pussy meeting the hilt of his cock filled the room, louder than it should’ve been. Your mind was teetering on the edge of coherence as the burn between your thighs grew more insistent. Your body moved instinctively, hips rolling back against him despite the strain, desperate for more.

Dabi’s grin widened as he watched you struggle, his cock twitching inside you at the sight of your flushed cheeks as you turned your head slightly to look at him while moaning his name like a whore. “Knew you’d be a good bitch for me,” Dabi praised, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Look at how perfect you are like this. Made to take my dick. Bent like a string, just for my pleasure.”

You improved the hold on your skirt up around your waist and slowed down your pace to gyrate your pussy on Dabi’s cock. You leaned forward just enough to give him an unobstructed view of your slick, thoroughly filled cunt, stretched and claimed by his cock, the lips of your slick pussy sliding up and down his throbbing shaft with each roll of your hips.

After a moment, Dabi continued to thrust into you rhythmically from below, deepening the penetration. The cigarette in his hand flared as he took another slow drag, the ember casting an orange glow across his face. He exhaled the smoke directly toward you, the sharp scent mixing with the sweat on your skin as he chuckled darkly. “Bet you’re close, doll,” he rasped, his voice rough and low. His free hand slid to your hip, gripping with bruising intensity, his long fingers digging into your flesh possessively. The cigarette still rested lazily between his index and middle finger, smoke curling in the air as he thrust up into you with brutal precision, forcing you to take every inch of him, deeper and harder. “Don’t stop riding my cock,” he commanded, his tone sharp but lazy, as though he was enjoying every second of your submission. “I want to see you work for the orgasm. Make me believe you deserve to cum.”

You straightened your back as much as you could, holding yourself upright with grace. 

Dabi’s eyes traced the perfect curve of your spine, from the dip of your lower back to the elegant line of your neck. 

Your ass pressed firmly against his lower stomach with every drop. Gasping for air, you leaned forward, bracing your hands on his knees, your back arching again. Slow at first, you started rolling your hips faster, twerking your ass in a way that made Dabi’s cock throb inside your abused pussy which already was clenching around him.

The white haired man watched your ass cheeks bounce with every move, every arch of your back perfectly calculated to drive him insane. 

You glanced back over your shoulder, a wicked, tired smirk playing on your slightly parted lips. “Do you like my ass?” You teased, voice sultry.

“Fuck yeah,” Dabi rasped, tightening his grip on your hips as his nails scraped along your skin. “Keep going,” Dabi replied, accenting his words with a sharp spank delivered to your left cheek.

You bent even further forward, reaching your hands out, spreading your butt even more for him while furiously riding his dick, going up and down on his shaft. 

Dabi’s cock was wet and shiny with your runny juices, gripped tightly by your pussy walls.

You ground the tip of your boyfriend’s cock into your g-spot as you bounced up and down, your clit repeatedly smashing into his clothed thighs. 

“That’s it,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he flicked ash into the tray beside him, the smoke curling lazily around his hand. “Good fucking girl. Look at you — so desperate, so fucking ruined.”

Your head tilted forward, gaze falling to where your bodies joined, where his cock thrust into you with relentless precision. The sight made your pulse race, the way your slickness coated his dick, creating rings of white juices that slowly streamed down his shaft to his base, the way every inch of him disappeared inside you to reappear a second later. 

He noticed where your attention was, and his smirk deepened, his hips shifting upward to meet yours in a sharp thrust that made your vision blur. “You like watching, don’t ya?” he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement as he exhaled another plume of smoke. “Bet you love seeing how fucking ruined you are for me.”

Dabi reached a hand with the cigarette out and stroked your cheek, but you abruptly turned your head, snagged one of his free fingers with your lips, and sucked the whole length into your warm mouth, not paying attention you might have got burnt by the cigarette. He groaned and pumped his hips up into you. You sucked harder on his digit, and lifted your pelvis up until only the head of his cock remained inside you. For a heartbeat, you hovered there, then slammed down against his jeans-coated lap.

Rose, slammed down, rose, slammed down, over and over.

"Love feelin' how wrecked that pretty pussy is, all stretched and ruined from takin’ my cock,” Dabi chuckled lowly, spanking your ass with his free hand.

The sound of his voice, the raw dominance in it, sent you over the edge. Your body clenched around him, trembling, and you gasped, barely able to catch your breath as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you shaking in his grip. 

His smirk never faltered, his hand loosening slightly on your wrists as he let you collapse backward, your back pressing against his chest. Dabi erupted inside your cunt, spurt after spurt, but still keep thrusting.

Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, the coil in your stomach tightening until it snapped, your second orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your legs trembled, your vision blurred, and your entire body shuddered as pleasure overwhelmed you being, your pussy clenching around his cock painfully as he groaned low and deep, still cumming inside of you.

Dabi held you there, pinned in place as you slowly rode out the aftershocks, your body trembling with exhaustion. His grin didn’t fade, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he finally released your wrists, letting them fall limp at your sides. “Good girl,” he murmured again, leaning back into the couch as he stubbed out his cigarette, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. 

Finally, you lifted yourself off him, feeling his unnaturally warm semen spill from your thoroughly fucked cunt, dripping onto his still-clothed lap. With a slow, deliberate grace, you stretched yourself lazily, his essence trailing down your trembling thighs in tantalizing streaks. Before you could even consider heading to the bathroom, his hand shot out with practiced precision, gripping your waist and yanking you back onto his lap. Your bare, overstimulated pussy, still slick and chilled from the cool air in the room, brushed against his cock — a touch that should have met soft flesh but instead found him thickening once more.

“Don’t ya dare thinking we’re even close to finished,” Dabi rasped, his breath hot against your ear before his teeth grazed the sensitive shell, sending a shiver down your spine as his calloused hands started fondling your tits. "I’m just getting started.”

♡ The art on the banner was made by @explosion-island ♡ I'm a member of @pixelcafe-network

[st7rz123]

Dabi hc’s

side note: This isn’t going to have any fluff to it, these are just some realistic hc’s I have for him. Most of these are going to be pretty angst. I hope you guys enjoy!

-He is NOT going to use pet names or cutesy nicknames. Don’t expect him to call you “doll” or “baby”, this mf is a straight-up loner and can barely understand flirting. He’s only going to use your name or a shorter version of it THAT’S IT!

-Kinda similar to the first one but if you try to create cute nicknames for him, I guarantee you that he would dip IMMEDIATELY. Calling him anything other than Dabi is a huge ick of him.

- He’s definitely not oblivious to sexual stuff but he’s probably not going to participate in it what so ever. He simply doesn’t have interest in it and definitely doesn’t have the energy for it.

-If he somehow does participate in sexual activities, it’s going to be very vanilla. Nothing flashy or fancy. He won’t mind being top or bottom. During it he’ll be pretty quiet, depending on the mood.

-In a relationship, he is going to be very lowkey and distant. He’s not going to put a whole lot of effort in the relationship but he will stay loyal if you’re loyal to him.

-He’s not going to take you out on romantic dates or spend cuddle time with you. The most he can do is hangout at your place or at a tucked away spot where the two of you can just talk.

-His way of affection is spending quality time with you. Physical affection for him is some hand holding, hugs, and occasional kisses. The kisses would be sort of awkward too, like let’s be for real.. he not going full French kiss on you (it would be shocking if he even knew how to do that). The most he can do is a side kiss or a little boop on the lips LMFAO.

-His way of joking with is you is by pissing you off. It’s pretty obvious that Dabi isn’t the nicest person so it’s expected for him to be a tease. The sly comments are constant with him.

Alternate part: This part is going to follow the scenario of if you were apart of the L.O.V. The first part was more of a broad following of hc’s.

-On missions with him he will not be interacting with you in a lovey dovey way. He’s going to be straightforward and focused on the task.

-If the fight gets too heated he would step in to at least make sure that nobody, including you, doesn’t die.

-He’ll try to watch your back as much as he can. Just in case if anything goes wrong or off track.

—————————

So sorry that this post is pretty short lol, this is my first time ever posting. More will posted soon <3

[harleys1nhawaii]

USING YOU

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x f!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, 18+ content, degration, humiliation, dabi being an asshole as usual, mocking, petnames etc. not proofread so yeah

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BEAUTIFUL BABYGIRL LIGHT OF MY LIFE FIRE OF MY LOINS MY ONE AND ONLY SOURCE OF LIGHT IN THIS HELLISH LIFE I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING💙💙💗🎀 lol jokes aside i cant seem to finish none of the fucking drafts i have so tryna save my ass my posting smut. pray for me so i can be productive every once in a while<3

dabi watches you ride him with his hands lazily tucked under his head, his lips curled into a infuriating cocksure grin. he finds it utterly amusing that you — in your cute little head believe that you can get off without his help.

he can feel the way your nails dig in his burnt flesh deeper than necessary, and the way your cunt squeezes in desperation. if he waits just a little more, he’s sure that those tears — you struggle so hard to fight back — will eventually start pouring down.

“damn, look at you going.”

your glare could cut steel, but it only makes him chuckle. he’s been at this for a while, mocking encouraging you too cheekily for your liking. its no. he tilts his head, watching you with those icy blue eyes, half-lidded and lazy, as if this is nothing more than a casual afternoon for him.

"atta girl," he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "almost looks like you know what you're doing up there."

his mocking encouragement makes your blood boil. you dig your nails into his chest hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks, but the bastard doesn't even flinch. if anything, his cock twitches inside you, and the smug look on his face somehow grows even more insufferable.

"you think this is funny?" you bite out, your voice sharp but trembling, betraying how close you are to breaking.

"oh, sweetheart, i think it's hilarious," he drawls, his tone teasing. "you’re working so hard, too. almost makes me feel bad."

almost.

dabi could be so much crueler. brutal, even. you both know for a damn fact that all it would take to break you further are those scarred, calloused hands — gripping your waist, pressing you down, and holding you still.

you know a man like him — a nasty dog with a sick, sick mind who lives the life for the thrill of it would not hesitate to amplify your torment. it ain’t something he didn’t do before, not in the slightest. and that ridiculous arrogance you were putting on, like you could keep up the facade, only made him more eager to tear it down.

“mhh—ah, fuck!” but then again, you sure were a sight to see. sweat glistening on your delicate, plushy skin. tits bouncing with every jump. your face scrunched into the purest mix of determination and desperation. brows furrowed, eyes squinting with need, lips parting to draw in sharp, ragged breaths.

you’re utterly adorable. and dabi’s stained heart harbors just enough innocence to show mercy. plus the way your tight, spasming walls clutch at his aching cock feels just right to stop it.

"need a hand there, doll?" his smirk deepens, his sharp teeth flashing like a predator toying with its prey.

“nah, you've got this, right? you’re a big girl. don’t let me stop you."

your thighs burn, muscles trembling with the effort, and you can feel the humiliating prick of tears at the corners of your eyes. his cock fits perfectly, the stretch overwhelming but delicious, and yet no matter how much you grind down on him, you're still not there.

but dabi? oh, dabi is patient. he’s the kind of man who takes pleasure in your defiance, only because it makes breaking you so much sweeter. he can see the cracks forming-how your breaths come quicker, how your movements grow more erratic, and how your nails dig into his scarred chest out of sheer frustration.

his tip kisses your cervix with each jump, his girth hitting all the right places, but it's not enough — not without his hands on you, guiding you, wrecking you like only he can.

it’s maddening. his nonchalance, the arrogance that radiates off him like it's his rightful crown. he lays there, sprawled out like he's the king of the damn world, watching you struggle for something only he can give.

and he has every right to be this way. you’ve dug your own grave by bitching that you didn’t need his help to cum, and now you were supposed to lie in it.

you lift yourself until only his tip remains inside before dropping back down, over and over. the motion repeats to the point where your cervix aches, and your walls grow numb from the strain. the slick mess coating both your thighs shines bright like a slap on your face. hours of jumping on his dick — yet still, no one of you has came.

"you done yet?" his tone is syrupy sweet, dripping with sarcasm. "or should i grab a book to pass the time?"

another roll of your hips, hard enough to probably break his dick, and he groans — not loud, but enough to let you know you're affecting him despite his infuriating composure. you think that maybe after this, he’ll decide to shut the fuck up.

though his grin shifts, becoming something darker, more predatory. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you know—you just know—he's about to make it worse.

“careful," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "don’t start something you can't finish."

something in his gaze tells you to give up this torture already, and the effort you put into hiding the shiver that runs down your spine fuels his ego more than any words ever could.

“you think you can keep this up?” he raises his brows. the condescending gleam in his azure eyes is enough to shatter whatever remaining confidence is left in you to pretend.

“wanna cum so badly, but all you’re doing is making a mess of yourself on my dick, babe. don’t get mad at me just because you can't finish the job."

you bite back a frustrated whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

“c’mon, doll.” he says just about a whisper. blue orbs shining with authority, far too eager to be considered sane. "what’s it gonna take? you gonna beg me? cry a little, maybe?"

"fuck you," you spit, your voice trembling as you no longer can keep your composure. the tears he predicted begin to well up in your eyes.

"oh, you are, babe." he thrusts up suddenly, and the unexpected movement rips a gasp from your lips. his hands finally leave their lazy position, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise as he slams into you once, twice, stealing your breath. "but you're just not doing it right."

your nails dig into his chest, your pride screaming at you to push him away, but your body betrays you, grinding down harder as his hips meet yours again. the bastard chuckles darkly.

"bet you wish you never started this, huh?" he teases, his voice dripping with malice. "can’t even finish, can't keep up. just a fucking mess."

your head tilts back, a moan slipping from your lips as the tension in your core coils tighter, closer to snapping with every thrust. you try to speak, to retort, but the words get caught in your throat as he fucks into you relentlessly, too deep, too fast, and it's all too much, too overwhelming, too fucking good.

the tears fall freely now, hot against your cheeks, and you bite down on your lip to stifle the sob that threatens to spill from your throat. you can’t fight them anymore—not when he’s balls deep inside your aching cunt, not when the coil in your abdomen boils with need.

“go on babe, beg me.” he chuckles maniacally as he thrusts into you so hard, you’d think it teared past your cervix if you weren’t burning with the need to cum. "i know you want to. i’ll even let you soak me if you ask real nice."

you glare down at him, teeth clenched, but the way his thumb brushes over your bottom lip makes you falter. his grin widens as he sees the defiance in your eyes waver, your body trembling with need.

"say it," he whispers, his voice low and taunting. "and maybe i’ll show you some mercy."

you hate him. you hate him — but the way his fingers dig into your waist and the heat in his gaze make it impossible to resist.

and you know, you just know that he can keep you on his dick for another 2 hours, make you sob and stain the whole bed until you beg him for that very mercy he’s offering you now.

"…please," you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. it’s so pathetic that your eyes shut close at the sound of it.

for a moment he doesn't say a word, but the dark gleam in his eyes speaks volumes, and that sick, twisted satisfaction blooms on his face.

"good girl," he murmurs, the words dripping with mockery, but there's a faint edge of something else there too — something you don’t wanna inspect. "i knew you'd crack."

he doesn't give you a second to breathe. his hands grip your hips, guiding you to take the pace he wants, setting a brutal rhythm that leaves you no choice but to follow. the way he looks at you, like you're nothing more than a toy for him to play with is sick, and definitely isn’t something that should make your aching pussy clench around him.

“gonna pull some shit like that on me again?” he groans lowly. and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was plotting on your death by the dangerous look he’s giving you.

you shake your head, tears blurring your vision. you know that he thrives on the fright he gives you when his grip on you tightens. the way his cock twitches inside as he watches you sob brokenly.

"see? that’s all you had to do," he coos, his grip forcing you to keep pace with his punishing rhythm. "next time, maybe you'll remember who's in charge, yeah?"

he keeps slamming you down onto him, drawing strangled moans and broken cries from your throat. hips snapping up to meet yours with a punishing rhythm that has your vision blurring. his eyes drink in the sight of you losing every bit of control you had, his smirk softening into something wickedly affectionate.

"come on, baby," he urges, his voice rough and commanding. "give it to me. let me feel you."

and just like that, you shatter—your body convulsing around him, trembling and gasping his name like a prayer with juices gushing all over his dick. he groans at the feeling of you clenching around him, his own release following shortly after as he buries himself as deep as he can go, his grip on you tightening.

when you collapse against his chest, panting and spent, he tilts your chin up with a burnt finger, forcing your wet and lidded eyes meet his gaze.

"next time, don't try to play games you can't win," he murmurs, his voice low and smug, before leaning up to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, sealing his victory.

[mysoncookie]

BNHA Dabi Must Reads

Time Travel - Where I Adopt a Bunch of Brats by ILoveMyths2003

╰┈➤ Available on Ao3, Complete, Time Travel Fix-It, Dabi Centric, Dabi is not a villain, Dabi Redemption, Found Family, Fluff, Angst & Hurt/Comfort, Extremely Slow Romance | Wordcount: 140,894

╰┈➤ Has an On Going Series Called "The World Of Tomorrow"

In Which Dabi Realizes He's too Pretty for Villainy by azurefaeblue

╰┈➤ Available on Ao3, Complete, Not Canon Compliant, Pretty Dabi, Scarless Dabi, White Haired Dabi, Hawks is a Simp, Crack | Wordcount: 3,435

╰┈➤ Has an On Going Series Called "In Which Dabi Achieves His Dream of Becoming a Trophy Wife"

area cryptid upset no one bothered to inform him of his tragic backstory by crimsonseekers

╰┈➤ Available on Ao3, Complete, Amnesiac Dabi, Crack Treated Seriously, Identity Reveal, Hero Public Commission Bashing | Wordcount: 47,710

In Which Dabi’s Tits Save the League and Dismantle Hero Society by azurefaeblue

╰┈➤ Available on Ao3, On Going, Social Media, Crack, POV Outsider, League of Villains as Family, Not Canon Compliant, Crack Treated Seriously | Wordcount: 23,688

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

these are my fav fics from BNHA! you can tell who my fav character is based on all of these fics ksksksksk

I know its a short list but these are fics that I genuinely enjoy & reread all the time. I'll prolly update this list cuz I aint satisfied with this being so short but idk we'll see

[icameheretoreadstuff]

What's your plan now?

Pairing: Dabi x F!Reader Warnings: 18+, MDNI!, NSFW, Smut, Dry Humping, Dirty Talk, Wet and Messy, unprotected Smut, creampie, Kinda Enemies to lovers, Sexual Tension Summary: He's got you pinned down, youre saying fuck you but really you want to say is Fuck me.. A/N: masterpost & links are pinned on my tumblr. I do not own this pic, found it on pinterest. I got this idea stuck in my head and just needed to write it asap- part 2 . part 3

"what the hell are you doing?" you hissed "You're pretty cute when you fight" he smirked as he was pinning you down. "Do not expect me to go easy on your ass just because youre ontop of me" you hissed and tried to wiggle free but to no avail.

His knees was placed beside your hips, he held your both hands with one hand, pinned them down over your head and his other hand on your throat. "Do you have any idea how much you piss me off?" you panted "You are so fucking annoying, You think you can do whatever you want, huh?" You ranted, "keep going" he said amused "Shut up" you spat.

You were annoyed with how attractive he was, His muscled arm around your neck and his loose tshirt revealing his muslces around his neck and shoulders, you looked further down knowing his eyes were burning at you, but you couldn't help yourself as you looked down seeing his boner tighting up his pants and were inches away from your core. He smirked as you laid your head down and looked away while trying not to blush.

"Dabi" you whispered as you couldn't help but to feel so turned on. "I'm curious, how much have you thought about me?" he asked you couriously "Fuck you" You stared into his annoyingly beautiful eyes "I really like seeing you under me like this" his words made you blush "shut up" you whispered and couldn't help but to check him out.

"why won't you make me" he flirted, you were lost for words and mumbled "you make me so god damn frustrated" you couldn't help but to look at his lips, You blushed over the thought that he had this power over you.

He smirked "You had the opportunity to leave many times now" he said "but you keep checking me out" He moved down his hips and pressed his boner onto your clothed clit causing you to reveal your inner thoughts: you moaned instantly.

"Is this what you want?" He cooes "mmf" you moaned as you couldnt stop enjoying him pressing and grinding his dick ontop of you. His raspy groans made your head spin, You took deep breaths as you couldn't help but to thrust your hips up on his dick.

He lifted up his dick from your core, you bit your lips trying to hold back your moans. You quickly let loose of his grip and grabbed his collar "What's your plan now?" he whispered as he leaned his boner onto your clit once more, this time harder as he grinded his dick onto your clit. You let out moans as you pulled him closer and crashed your lips into his.

You couldn't hold back anymore and neither did he, all this teasing and flirting from him was making your head spin. Your mind was like a fog and the only thing you wanted was him. You moaned into his kisses as he pinned you down.

He leaned back and before he could say anything you said "take my pants off" He grinned as he dragged them off. "I need you" you whispered, he smirked and opened his belt and pulled down his pants revealing his hard throbbing dick bouncing out of his pants causing you to forget how to breathe for a second.

"Spread your legs for me sweetheart" You obeyed and he groaned as he leaned ontop of you and grinded his dick onto your wet folds while making out with you. "Youre so wet for me" he groaned, You moaned into his lips "I want you inside me" you moaned as you felt you were shaking of arousal "Fuck" He felt like his dick was throbbing as he grinded his dick into your wet folds. "y/n" he groaned as he grabbed his dick and pushed it inside you, He huffed and groaned as he rolled his hips and snapped his hips as he thrusted inside you slowly, with rough kisses.

You wrapped your hands around his neck as you moaned "you fill me up so good" you let out a deep breath, feeling your entire body shoot out a sparks down twoards your core as you thrusted your hips up so he could go deeper inside you.

His pelvis grinded on yours as he thrusted hard into you. "fuck" you moaned as you felt his dick filling you up on all the right places "You like me fucking you?" He groaned "fuck you feel so good" you moaned feeling unable to answer him, you gasped silently as you curled your toes feeling your climax coming on fast.

"Dabi" you moaned as he started to thrust harder into you, You climaxed and squirted on his dick. "Fuck" he groaned as he lifted up your legs almost up to your shoulders as he thrusted harder into you, the wet sounds filling the room as his hips were clapping and grinding on your pelvis.

He let out raspy moans "Cum for me" you moaned as you felt him grip your thighs hard "you want me to cum inside you?" you blushed as you nodded "say it out loud" he smirked while his hips were clapping hard into you. "yes, please cum inside me" you moaned as you felt another climax coming in.

"Fuck Dabi" you moaned, He groaned as he pressed his cock hard into you and climaxed deep inside you. He grabbed your neck and choked you lightly as he panted, he kept thrusting inside you "You wanna cum again for me, sweetheart?" you moaned at his words "be a good girl and cum on my dick" he smirked as his dick was thrusting inside you.

The wet sounds from where you were connected, his raspy groans and his rough kisses sent you over the edge, You climaxed hard and pulled him close and kissed him roughly while moaning. "Fuck!" you panted.

He slipped out of you as he smiled, seing your throbbing clit and his sperm slowly dripping out of you. "Fuck, this sight makes my dick hard all over again" he smirked "But sadly, I have to go" he said and raised up and took on his pants. Luckly you had some paper towls inside your pocket from the coffee place you were at earlier and cleaned yourself up.

You raised up and took on your pants "This was a one time thing" you said as you tried to collect yourself. He smirked as he walked over to the door and turned to look at you "yeah sure" he teased as he winked at you.

Both you and him knew this was not a one time thing, even if you didn't want to admit that to him "yeah sure?" you asked him, he walked over to you with a look on his face that made you blush, he grabbed your chin softly and leaned closer to your mouth to kiss you but stopped.

He smirked as he could read your face clearly. Your lips were like a magnet to his as you kissed him. His lips, his silent moans and his warmth felt like an addiction.

You couldn't help yourself as you started to make out with him, his lips felt too good- He felt so good. You moaned into the kisses as he suddenly leaned back "just a one time thing, huh?" he teased.