#he was trying to show off his cleavage but i don’t think that worked 😔

[wishchip106]

Hi, as you wanted to talk about Cherik. One of the most nice things to me it is thinking about is: in DOFP, Erik appears withput a scarf, and few moments later, he has. I wonder, is he hidding something? (in the neck, bc charles????

where the hell did he get that scarf…

maybe he stole it from Charles 🤔

imagine these were originally Erik’s clothes back in first class and Charles held onto them all this time 😭🤚

Charles is NOT over him like he says he is 🤨

[tryingmyves]

Love Me Right

Ask:  hi hi i’m sliding in the inbox 👀 congrats on 60 followers !! you deserve it 😔💗💗 could i request #2 with dabi ? if you don’t write for him, just let me know and i’ll change it ! tysm bb 💓 @madeofsaltiness​

thank you so much for the request babe! i hope you like this! i haven’t written for Dabi before, so hopefully this doesn’t seem too out of character - but i liked the challenge. also this is the first time i’ve written smut sooooo 👀 the prompt is italicized

PAIRING: Dabi x Y/N

c/w: alcohol, possessive!Dabi, villian!Y/N, smut-smut golf 

a/n: like i said - this is my first time writing for Dabi so i’d really appreciate any feedback anyone has  ☼

Send me a request! ► 60 Followers event

You never intended to become a villain, but you have never been enamored with heroes the way the whole of society is. You had decided a long time ago that you were content being just another cog in the machine of the world. You work a dead-end job at a run-down bar near the city’s red light district on nights and weekends and spend your days sleeping off your hang-overs from the night before. The Copper Queen was a shithole, if you were honest. But the alcohol was strong and free since you were a bartender. Moreover, you make decent money off tips from nervous perverts who come in to get drunk before wandering over a few more blocks to purchase some company for the night. Aware of your regular patrons’ personalities, you thought the true heroes of the world may be the working girls near the bar. In your opinion, heroes get too much credit. Society isn’t better now that everyone has quirks - it’s just different. There’s still inequity, extortion, and a load of other shit that every-day people have to deal with. The heroes don’t help with that, not unless it was flashy enough to garner some publicity. Maybe if you had been blessed with a better quirk you’d think differently; give the glamorous life of heroics a try. But you were just a mockingjay - able to copy the phonetical diction and vernacular of those you hear in person. You are great at impressions, but typically you went through life without acknowledging your quirk. Although, occasionally you’d entertain yourself by mocking some of your patrons - they just made it too easy. It’s incredibly off-putting to hit on someone only for them to sarcastically flirt back in your own voice. You’ll never tire of the reactions you get from your little trick.

It was just another Saturday night at the Queen. The lights low, music loud, and air filled with the smell of smoke and stale beer. A couple of regulars sat on the far end of the bar, while others played billiards or darts. The bell on the door chimes, announcing the arrival of an unfamiliar face accompanied by a gust of chill air. He strides forward to your bar, not concerned with platitudes, “Whiskey, neat. Make it a triple.”

You’re unbothered by his attitude, men clothed in faux toughness came through the Queen’s doors daily. You simply grab a glass and place it in front of him, fetch the whiskey bottle from behind you, and rotate it once around your arm before catching it by the neck and pouring his shot. You’re not a show pony, but cheap tricks like this often increased your tips, and cash was cash.  

You slide the tumbler forward to your new patron, leaning forward against the bar slightly, ensuring he’d catch a glance of your cleavage, accentuated by your low cut top, “Seven dollars, hun.” He is admittedly hot, his dark hair and purple scars make his blue eyes even more striking. And from the few words he spoke you could hear his voice was deep and raspy. Typically, the men who frequent The Copper Queen are the types you avoid, but this one has you intrigued. 

He slaps a $10 onto the counter, “Keep the change. And the names Dabi, princess.” The word princess was more of a hiss. He takes a deep drink from the glass you placed in front of him, “I don’t do pet names.”

You grab the $10 from the counter and turn around to place it into the register, already rethinking your first impression of this Dabi. “I don’t do pet names, princess.” You mock under your breath, it was too early in the evening to deal with his shit. 

“What the hell was that?” he snarls.

You didn’t intend for him to hear you; you didn’t even intend to say the comment aloud. Maybe those shots you took when you opened tonight had done more than you thought. “Don’t recognize your own voice, Dabi?” You say in your own voice, emphasizing his name.

He’s staring at you, jaw clenched and brows knitted together in annoyance, but slight curiosity. “Say something else, like me,” he orders.

“I’m not some bitch, I don’t do tricks,” you retort.

He raises an eyebrow, “You just did when you were trying to get a tip from me.” He holds another $10 up between two long fingers. You see the burn scars present on his face and neck extend down his forearms like sleeves, stopping just past his wrists.

You extend your hand and once he places the crumpled bill in your palm you say, “Hi, I’m Dabi, I don’t do pet names, and my social skills are shit. I tip well though.”  Your voice gone, now replaced with a perfect replica of his. 

His eyebrows raise, shifting from their furrowed position, and his jaw relaxes into an amused smirk. “What’s your name, princess?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats, finishing off the remaining whiskey in his glass. He looks like he is considering something as he drinks and then he speaks again, “what time do you get out of here? I want you to meet some friends of mine.”

“And what makes you think I want to meet them?” you challenge.

“Because you want to leave with me tonight,” he answers with a wicked smile.

And he was right. Something about his abrasive attitude had you hooked, and he didn’t back down when you responded with a similar temperament. “2AM.. You’ve got a couple of hours to kill,” is all you say before turning around, walking to the other end of the bar to get more drinks for your other patrons.

____________________________

  The memory of your first encounter with Dabi comes to your mind. You shake your head with a sad laugh. What the fuck had you been thinking? You had left with him that night and met his friends: The League of Villains. Somehow you ended up as a new recruit. You had always thought your quirk was a bit useless compared to things like super strength or fiery power, but the League of Villains saw its potential. Between Toga’s ability to look like anyone whose blood she got her hands on and your ability to mimic voices, doors were opening left and right for the LoV. 

Over the last three months you’ve gotten pretty comfortable with your new friends. The Copper Queen essentially a villain bar now and one of their unofficial hideouts. You and Dabi had even started dating. At first it was just sex, hot, mind-numbing sex, but nothing more. That was until Dabi saw another new recruit trying to make a move on you. He put an end to that real quick. He strode over to you, possessively throwing an arm around your shoulder, growling “she’s mine,” at the man who was trying to flirt with you. His eyes sparking, a warning of the blue flames to come if the recruit didn’t scram. The warning was more than enough, and he left the two of you quickly. 

At the time, his words made you happy, but now they felt like a prison. She’s mine. Dabi isn’t a jealous type, but he is possessive. And he often misread your friendly interactions with others as something more than they were. You had ignored it for a while, but lately, it felt like you were suffocating. Your irritation finally boiling over in a fight four nights ago when you yelled at him in front of a number of other LoV members, “You’re fucking smothering me! It’s like I can’t even breath near other people or you think I’m going to fuck them!” You’d stormed out after that, not waiting around for a reaction to your outburst. 

You’ve been hiding out in your apartment since then, unable to go to work, knowing the people you’re avoiding are likely there. You hadn’t talked to Dabi since then either. Neither of you were the type to apologize first and you were too stubborn to let him win. Toga had texted you a few times since the incident but you hadn’t responded, unsure of what to say. You’re watching TV in your living room when there’s a knock at the door. “Toga, I promise I’m alive - I just want to be alone,” you shout, heaving yourself off the couch and meandering towards the door. You fling it open, expecting to find the school girl and her space buns, but instead find Dabi. As you’re deciding whether or not you’re just going to shut the door in his face he strides forward.

“I’m done with this bullshit,” he declares, hoisting you off the ground and into his arms. He spins you around, shoving your back against your front door and pushing it closed. He smashes his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth, keeping you pinned between him and the door. The initial surprise fades quickly and you give into your desires, wrapping one arm around his neck and bringing the other up to grab a fistful of his hair; you cross your ankles behind his back bringing yourself closer to him and securing your place. His kisses are sloppy and forceful, his tongue fighting with your own for dominance, neither of you willing to surrender. You can feel his cock through his jeans, already hard and grinding into you. You pull his head backwards by the fistful of hair in your hands, separating his lips from yours, desperate for air. Despite your grip, he brings his face forward again, this time kissing your collarbone, sucking bruises into your skin. One of his hands holding you up by your ass, the other has worked its way under your shirt grabbing your breast and rubbing circles over your nipple with a calloused thumb. His long tongue licks a stripe up your neck to your ear, before he bites down on your earlobe. “We’re done fighting. I love you,” he rasps, his breath making goosebumps erupt across your skin. 

“If you’re gonna love me make sure that you do it right,” is all you can get out before his lips are back on yours, your bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Dabi seems to take your answer as a challenge, standing up right and spinning around. He carries you to your bedroom and only separates himself from you when he throws you on to your bed.

“Take off your clothes,” he commands before he starts removing his own.

You do as he says, but not quickly enough. You are just getting to your shorts when he pushes you onto your back. He hooks his fingers under the waistband and strips them off of you with force, before crawling between your legs. He bites at your thighs, littering them with a trail of kisses, as he works his way to your core. He murmurs a soft, “missed you,” before licking a slow stripe up your folds. A breathy gasp leaving your lips as he continues lapping at your cunt. He’s got your legs thrown over his shoulders, one hand coming up to rub vigorous circles against your clit and the other massaging the breast he neglected while he had you pinned against the door. 

“Nng, you’re already so wet for me,” he hums into your folds.

Moans of pleasure escape your throat, even though you were angry at him you had missed him the whole time. You had grown so accustomed to his touch, it made you ache to go so long without it. “Dabi, please,” you beg.

“Not yet, princess,” he coos. He repositions himself, bringing his face to yours to shower you in kisses once more. His hand shifts, still thumbing at your clit he slides two long fingers into you. You buck your hips into him, a sigh of pleasure spilling out of your mouth and into his. He swallows your noises hungrily, pumping his fingers in and out of you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and can feel the heat inside of you building already. He adds a third finger, picking up the pace of his thrusts. His other hand comes up to grab you by the throat and you’re on the verge of tears. He spreads his fingers out inside you and you feel yourself come undone around him, a strangle scream of pleasure spilling from your throat.

Your head is in a daze, still coming down from your orgasm, but you can see through unfocused eyes Dabi licking your juices off each of his fingers. Before you can even catch your breath he flips you onto your stomach. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you onto your knees so your ass is in the air. You can’t even ask him to wait before he’s thrusting into you, his cock burying itself in your walls.

“Ahhh, fuck Y/N,” he moans, slapping your ass.

Your knees are shaking and you can barely see past the tears spilling from your eyes. You were still riding out your first orgasm and Dabi was already pushing you towards a second. You know the overstimulation is punishment for the scene you caused the other day, but Dabi just can’t help himself. Since the two of you got together, the longest you had gone without sex was two days. He never cared what time it was, where you were, or what time of the month it was, he just couldn’t resist you. He snakes an arm under you, grabbing you by the neck and bringing you up so your back rests against his scarred chest. His other arm comes around your waist, his hand going back to your bundle of nerves that was already so sensitive.

“Tell me what you want, princess,” he whispers, each word punctuated by the thrust of his cock deeper inside you.

“Ahh - I want.. I want you to come inside me!” you all but scream, hardly able to form a coherent sentence. 

His tongue glides across the outside of your ear, “As you wish.” He plunges his dick into you deeper still, hitting that special spot that only he seems capable of finding. You clench around him, overtaken by ecstasy once more, pornographic screams of pleasure filling your room. Between your sounds and your walls constricting around him, Dabi falters, his steady movements becoming sloppy as he nears his high. He pumps into you once more before bursting, spilling his seed inside your messy cunt.

He releases his grasp on you, letting you fall to your bed again in bliss. The both of you lay next to each other, breathless and sweaty. He places a gentle kiss on your shoulder and throws an arm over you.

“I don’t want to fight with you again,” he whispers.

You roll over to face him, snuggling in closer. “Then don’t,” is all you say, placing a quick peck on his lips before settling into your bed.