#stripperreader

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧, 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙣' 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙧

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you've broken up with your on-and-off boyfriend...again... for the umpteenth time. life as a stripper isn't treating you easy, and although it pays well it doesn't fill the emotional hole left by your toxic ex. as you take a breather outside you encounter someone you would rather than speak to again. things start to take a dark turn rather suddenly.

wc. around 1,721

tags.dabi x reader. toxicexboyfrienddabi! x stripper reader.dabi x reader smut. toxicexboyfriend!stripperreader smut. all characters are 18 years old. alternative au. non quirk au. fucking your toxic ex boyrfriejd. toxic dabi. dabi has a dick piercing. dabi fingers you. dabi fucks you agaisnt a window. exhibitionism. slut shaming. degration. 18+ mdni!

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" You're nothing to me, just a mere comfort whore I come to when I need to. But still, you should feel special you're not like the rest. The rest are mere fuck toys, you're something more."

Gritting your teeth once more, you angrily sit down on a sofa, shoving your foot inside another heel. " Fucking cheater." You curse under your breath " I'm gonna dump his ass. I'm something more than the rest, shut the fuck up. "

"Woah there girl, you're gonna snap your ankle in two if you keep at it."  Cagney’s familiar playful voice instantly calms you down, from your racing thoughts and growing rage. The beautiful girl squats to meet your level. " Whatever it is girl, it's not worth bringing you down tonight. Besides, when you're done being fabulous as  always, you can go kick its ass." She jokes grabbing your hand to help you up.

" Cagney, what would I do without you?"

" I dunno, probably kill someone, to be honest. What would you do without me?" She flips her hair for more dramatic effect and you both erupt with tiny giggles at her response.

" Showtime y/n." the woman with her clipboard enters the room, her usual irritated expression on her face before leaving the room.

"I'll be cheering for you girl." Cagney cheers before you exist.

As you enter the stage, an erupting canon of cheers explodes from the audience, and as the music starts the audience begins to settle, watching in awe as your body spins and twirls at so many angles. You were almost hypnotizing, looking as angelic as ever. Most people in the audience suspected you to be a pole dancer fill-in rather than an actual stripper. During the song, you eventually glide to the top of the pole, before sliding down and smoothly shifting into your floor routine.

When the music faded, the audience yet again cheered, shouting and screaming as your stood. " Thank you." you mouth, waving at the crowd before the light on stage dims, allowing you to scurry and collect the cash people there on stage.

" She was almost too innocent looking, like an angel" you hear as you scurry backstage, causing you to smirk to yourself.

'Damn right, I worked my ass off making that damn routine.'

After a couple of songs, you decide to go out for a breath of fresh air and observe other performances. Though once you manage to step outside and hand on your shoulder stops you. " Hey, dollface." His familiar voice rings through your ears, triggering the anger felt earlier on. You immediately spin around, fueled by anger and raise your fist in an attempt to punch the villain, but his rough, larger hand blocks the punch. By now, you're breathing heavily as tears begin to cascade down your face. Yet again, you try to punch the unwavering man, over and over and over again and after a while, you stop.

" Fuck you want? I don’t wanna deal with your shit, you know I hate you?" You mutter, too exhausted to shout. The anger is evident in your, face and voice, yet the villain remains unbothered at the fact that you are breaking down because of his actions. Either way, he still gets you back.

" How sad, you hate me. Now stop crying and let's go inside. You're acting like a fucking baby and it's pissing me off."

" You just don't get it, do you? This means we're over Dabi. No more of us."

The man turns and walks away for a bit before stopping.  He turns to look up at the sky, the wind shaking up his black hair. " See if I care. I can leave right this very second, but what will happen? That's right. You'll come crawling back to me like you always do."

.. like I always do. Dabi approaches you as you begin to back away.

" And besides, I know how to get what I want, when I want princess. After all, you were just a cum slut to me anyway. You'll come back to me because you love that don't you? You little perverted fuck. You want someone to put you in this type of position like I do, but who on earth will do that for you." By now you were up against a wall, caged in by him. The man you want to escape from but he's right. Who could I go to?

You do not process and register the fact that you dive in for a long kiss. A kiss that feels long-awaited, it feels like you're pouring all feel restrained emotions into it, it feels like you're accepted again.

But is that all I want? You ask yourself, breaking for the kiss for air.

Without further hesitation, you grab a hold of Dabi's hand and drag him into the room filled with various lights. You slip past people and walk through hallways to avoid meeting others. The both of you standing near an isolated staircase, your voice hushed as you begin to speak. " Don’t think I’ve let you off the hook. Just because I keep coming back to you doesn’t mean we should stay together.” A silence passes and you pause, steadingly yourself to state the truth “Maybe that's why I'm tired. It feels like you won't stay. "

Dabi can sense the neediness dripping from your voice. " That's my girl." he breathes in your ear, before grabbing your chin, the both of your faces so close you can feel his breath against your face- but he doesn't kiss you. You unconsciously let out a moan of frustration from the teasing occurring. " What's the matter? Want me to kiss you? You want me to fuck you?" No words emit from your mouth.  His chuckles resonate and vibrate throughout your body before he leans in and connects his lips with yours, grinning into the kiss. He had got you back again. Without doing anything.

The dark-haired man grabs a hold of your wrists and pins them above your head. "Look at how wet and needy you are for me. Filthy slut." His fingers had managed to teasingly feel through the fabric covering  your soaking folds. Annoyed at how teasingly slow Dabi is being, you drags him up the stairs and into a room. The room is empty, it contains a bed, a drawer in the corner of the room, decorated with colourful lights and a window wall covered by curtains.

Wasting no time, Dabi grabs a fistful of your hair and slams the door shut. " Strip." is all he says. " Don't make me repeat myself." You find yourself, slowly sliding off clothing, one piece at a time. When your hands travel to your panties, Dabi stops you and lifts you up by your legs before walking over to the mirror planted above the drawers. Your eyes pay close attention to how he brushes his thumb against your throbbing clit, shuddering at the slightest touch. The man hooks his fingers around your underwear, peeling it off.  Your bare cunt is exposed, glistening in erotic juices from the high level of arousal. Without another second being wasted, Dabi's fingers find themselves inside your soaked pussy. His fingers begin to pump in and out of you whilst he wraps his hand around your neck. The filthy noises being let out by the contact made only increased your arousal. Dabi took note of that, of how your hips begin to thrust eagerly in hopes of more pleasure. He starts scissoring the two fingers inside you to stretch you out, before inserting three. With each pump and curl his fingers do within you constantly hit again your g- spot. The pleasure fogged your mind, and your legs beginning to shake from such intense pleasure.

" So you are a good girl after all, taking these fingers so well." You don't respond, all that can be let out from your mouth is moans expressing the need for your climax to be reached. But your pleasure begins to fade as Dabi's fingers slip out of your stimulated cunt. He uses his hand to choke you and forcefully grabs your face, making you look at yourself in the mirror. Heated face, your hole fluttering against nothing, your tongue sticking out and makeup running down your face. " You see yourself, that is what a cum slut looks like." A moment of silence passes as you try to recover your breath, your chest falling and rising rapidly. " Let's show the whole world how much needy you are for cock." He whispers in your neck, sending shivers throughout your body.

He continues to hold you upright, bringing you close to his chest and walking towards the window wall. The view of the city is on full display, the lights brightening the darkened sky and your naked body pressed up against the glass as is also on full exposure. You feel his tip prodding against your entrance alongside the piercing on his dick. The man places his hands on your hips, gripping them tightly before slamming into you. You feel his thumb stretching your mouth open, increasing the volume of your erotic moans, the sound of skin slapping against each other and your coated arousal making the whole situation a lot filthy.  He continues to press you up against the glass, breasts and cheeks pressed against the window wall.

"Do you love being my fuck toy? My cum dumpster? Answer me bitch." He growls yanking your hair and violently shaking your ass. A masochistic smile spreads across your face and you nod excitedly, letting out more moans.

"F-fuck, don't stop Dabi." You stutter brokenly, overly enjoying the never-ending pleasure.  He begins to thrust faster, your sex clenching around his desperately hoping for the knot to be undone. " You only cum when I tell you to. Got it?" You nod rapidly, focusing solely on the satisfaction taking over your mind. After a few deep thrusts your legs begin to shake the command to " Cum." caused your legs to shake as you ride your high. Your face is flushed face,  you gasp for air and your legs shake.

"Good girl."

[shirayuricky]

https://www.tumblr.com/shirayuricky/759240432999940096/ceofuma-x-stripperreader-you-dont-need-to?source=share

This guy will ask you to dance on the pole with your body naked and only leaving your boots or heels. It will add to the sexy impression. He can touch himself while you dance on the pole 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

(ANON YOU'RE MAKING ME INSANE)

the next day, he makes you pole dance, but with a twist. you only have your boots on. no clothes, just boots. you know a bit of pole dance but not an expert. so you just did your sensual dances as usual but adjusted most of it so he won't find it boring. and you even grinded on the pole, trying to rile him up.

and while you dance on the pole, he takes this chance to touch himself. and it didn't take him too long to cum.

"i wish you'd grind on my cock just like how you grinded on that pole..."

[murdrdocs]

https://www.tumblr.com/murdrdocs/757732018677219328/logan-x-stripperreader-demons-are-infesting-my?source=share

WOWOWOWOW this was so well executed i knew you would do my half-assed idea justice! the blue and yellow little outfit??? oh you’re EVILL! i love you and your mind pookalicious

glad u liked it pookie bear bc i spent a whole night watching stripper tiktoks (went down a rabbit hole of storytimes and shit)

link

[littlegodzilla]

Hiii new story!! I wanted to do a one shot but I'm not sure, for now I'm going to post it, let me know what you think!

Thanks @minervadashwood for helping me with this story, you have really good ideas! ❤❤❤

I hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!!

*****

Better Life.

Murphy MacManus x StripperReader.

Warnings: Fluff. Bad language. Awkward situations. Attempted sexual assault.

Words: 5400

Summary: Murphy just wants to help you.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @thefemininemystiquee @green-eyedladywrites @hail-yourselves @ruinedbythehobbit @xxtinasxxblog @ravenwings73 @spenciepoo338 @b-tchymoon @minervadashwood @darylssluttt @let-love-bleeds-red @ravendixon @livingdeadblondequeen

********

(When you can't find a good Murphy's gif and you steal a young Norman photo, @normanthatisall I love your blog)

His blue eyes roam your body, confused. From the small cabin in which he hides, he watches you move, your body wiggling as the platform on which you stand rotates so that every occupied cabin can enjoy the view of your body.

And he doesn't understand why you are there.

You are young. You both must be around the same age. Why are you working on this? Why aren't you out walking with your boyfriend? Why aren't you out for coffee with your friends? Or even studying for an exam at college or running because you're late for work.

Murphy doesn't get it.

He doesn't even understand why he's there.

He discovered you that day when he was working with his brother and Rocco to get rid of some gangsters and eliminate some pervert, they broke into the booth of one of your colleagues and after Rocco touched her tit, they ran out of there, however, Murphy captured your presence in one of the cameras at the exit. The booths had a small camera that recorded fleeting seconds of what was going on inside, thus enticing customers to enter and enjoy the full show. When Murphy saw you, he couldn't look away.

It's been a couple of weeks since that, he knows your schedule, the days you work inside the booth or in other parts of the club, he follows your every move. It's almost sickening and he knows it's wrong.

But he can't control it.

He blinks as the opaque shutter covers the glass and the door latch opens ending the show. You're done for the day, tomorrow afternoon you'll be back for those pigs to touch themselves again looking at you. Low growl clenching his fists.

**

You hurry out the alley, cursing your boss as you text your sister.

"My boss is an asshole, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Hurry up, I have to go to work."

"Fuck!" You curse again picking up your pace.

"Ya should get another job, lass." You hear a voice in the shadows and you jump.

A boy, almost your age, is coming towards you, his blue eyes riveted on you, he's wearing a long black coat and his hands are hidden in his pockets. He almost looks like a child with that look, but something behind his pupils tells you to be careful.

"Excuse me?" You say trying to walk away.

"Y'shouldn't be workin' here, why do ya do it?" he asks again and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

"Look, if you're a customer, I'm sorry, my shift is over."

"I'm ain't a customer." He grunts with distaste. "Aye, I've been watchin' ya, but I haven't..."

"You've been watching me? Are you a cop?" You frown and he laughs noseily.

"No, but I think ya deserve better, yer young, ya could work anywhere else than lettin' those guys drool lookin' at ya."

"Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what to do?" you roar and Murphy realizes he's gone too far.

"H-hey, I'm sorry, I..." You turn to leave and he reaches out holding your hand.

When you turn around, Murphy at first doesn't know what hit him, a cold, acidic liquid hits his eyes making him scream in pain as the stinging sensation runs through his entire body, he lets go of you and you run away at full speed.

The brunet squats down with his hands pressing his eyes tightly shut. You've used pepper spray on him and it hurts like hell, it was humiliating to hear him scream, but he didn't expect you to attack him like that. He babbles nonsense words in all the languages that run through his mind, trying to somehow appease the pain.

It certainly wasn't a good idea to wait for you in a dark alley.

The burning sensation that invades his eyes is still there, like a dull buzzing that makes him whimper like a baby, but he controls himself, sniffles through his nose and tries not to touch his eyes, he feels that his eyeballs are dry despite all the tears he has shed, he needs to get out of there, wet his face, tear that feeling out of his body.

**********

McGinty's is the only place that pops into his mind, it would have been wiser to go straight home, take a shower and sleep until the next day. But the humiliation is almost more painful than the spray in his eyes. He just wanted to help you and you've attacked him like he's an old pervert.

He needs a beer or two.

Of course he hadn't thought about the fact that his brother, Rocco and all his friends would be there, nor that the cloud of smoke flooding the pub would aggravate the pain in his parched eyes.

"Hey, Murph, where were ya?" His brother asks when he sees him come in. "We thought ya weren't comin'." He scoffs, but his twin walks right past him into the bathroom.

That puts Connor on alert, they may seem to have a disinterested affection for each other, but anyone who knows them well knows that the McManus twins are connected and anytime something happens to one, the other reacts instantly. He leaves his cigarette and gets up from the stool going after his brother like a hurricane, Rocco a little drunk follows him because he has also seen the strange expression on Murphy's face.

When they enter the bathroom they discover the other man with his head stuck under the water tap, trying to somehow relieve his burning.

"Murphy, yer 'kay, bro?" walks Connor over to him, resting a hand on his back.

"Get off me, ain't wanna talk." He grunts rubbing his eyes any contact is abrasive.

"Hey, c'mon." He grabs his shoulder to pull him away from the water.

"I said let go of me!" he yells wanting to break free.

"Dude..." Rocco then speaks as he sees him with his eyes narrowed, swollen and totally red. "Are you crying?" He can't suppress a laugh.

A thick, deadly silence settles between the three men. Connor knows his brother well, his body language and before he launches himself at Rocco, he holds him tightly making him brace and kick like a doll in the air.

"Stoppit, both of ya! Yer gonna tell us wha' happened."

**

The laughter echoes through the pub. It's just the three of them and Doc now, but that doesn't make it any less humiliating. Murphy is cowering on his stool, swallowing his anger, listening to each laugh stab into his ears. He looks sideways at his beer, he hasn't even been able to take more than two gulps, the spray has rarefied his taste and every time he swallows it's like a nail scratching his throat.

That fucking thing is killing him.

"Some whore attacked ya in alley." Laughs Rocco again.

"What the fuck were ya doin' with a hooker, Murphy?" laughs Connor too, but he growls.

"I wasn't with her. I wanted to talk to her."

"Ya wanted to negotiate her price? She clearly wasn't gonna give y'a discount." The laughter gets louder.

"I wanted to tell her to quite it!" he roars in frustration.

Silence falls in the pub, everyone's gazes fall on him again, eyes wide open, even Doc looks surprised. The surprise on their faces is far worse than the laughter. He tenses his jaw trying not to lash out at them.

"What do ya care, Murphy? She's just a whore."

And that's the million-dollar question, the question Murphy is also asking himself and when he figures out the answer, he'll tell it to himself first. Thank you very much. But the silence seems to be enough for his brother, neither dares to open his mouth again, Rocco is chewing on a new laugh, but is unable to let it out, the atmosphere is so tense it almost hurts.

"G-guys..." Doc begins to speak.

"Is it that ya've fallen in love with her, Murph?" insists Connor and smacks him on the back of the head.

No, of course he hasn't. No. He can't be in love. You've known each other for two weeks, maybe three, you don't even know each other, he's been looking at you through a mirror for all this time, actually, if you knew that you'd possibly freak out. It would make sense to him. He just wants you to be safe.

When his brother's hand hits the back of his neck, he frowns, turns quickly, hitting him on the arm with a closed fist. Connor and Murphy are always hitting each other, absurd fights between them that never end in anything serious, yet Connor notices right away that his brother's blows increase in force with each one he unloads. He has to stop it before everything gets out of hand.

"Calm down, calm down!" Connor grabs his brother by the arm twisting him towards his back to block him and slams him against the bar of the pub. "Stop it, Murphy!"

"Let go of me!" he scrambles like an eel under his body and pulls away from his brother. "I just want to help her! Why does it gotta be so weird?"

"Because it's none of our business! Come on, yer gonna help every whore in Boston?" he says with derision and Murphy snap.

"No...just..." He huffs and shakes his head. "I'm leavin'." He doesn't say anything else, just turns and grabbing his coat walks out of the pub.

**

Connor watches his brother lying on his mattress, in that apartment they have occupied, with no walls, two old mattresses on the floor and a bunch of beers lying all over the place. Murphy's back is turned to him and he knows he's upset. As absurd and funny as it's been to tease him, Connor knows he needs to talk to his brother.

"Hey, Murphy, listen..."

"Leave me alone..."

"No, seriously, if ya really wanna help her, I'll help ya, 'kay?" he encourages him, sees his body relax to turn around and look at his brother. "Do ya know what her name is or where we can find her? Other than the club..."

"Well... I guess the name she uses at the club ain't real..."

"Oh my God, Murphy..."

"What? I said I wannna help her, not that I have some elaborate plan."

"Y'ain't gotta a fuckin' plan" He sighs. "Okay, we'll go to the club, I'm sure we'll find some info on her in some work file or somethin'."

"Okay... Yer really gonna help me?"

"Aye! Fuck, but it better be worth it. We'll have to know when it's her turn..."

"Dun think it'll be too hard..." He mutters averting his gaze.

"Why? Oh shit, Murph don't tell me... Is that where ya go every day when ya get off work?" he looks at him in disbelief. "Ya pay for it?"

"N-no... not always..." He whispers averting his gaze, "I walk into those pigs' living quarters and..."

"So what? Ya jerk off yerself ? What would our mother say..."

"No! I'm just lookin' at her..."

"Fuck Murphy, yer so fucked..."

"Fuck, shut up." He says embarrassed.

**

Connor's plan isn't too elaborate either, they show up at the club where you work with briefcase full of money they claim they want to spend with one of their girls, the club owner is willing to put you all in front of them and let them choose, but Connor was quicker insisting on going to his office. Once there they knocked him out and tied him to the chair as Murphy looked for something about you among all that pile of papers.

"I-I got it!" he shouts feeling some excitement run through him as you find some papers with your personal information there's a photo verifying that it's you and he shows it to his brother.

"Uhm, not bad, at least y'ain't gotta bad taste bro." He jokes and Murphy snorts.

"Shut up." He shushs him by pointing a piece of paper in your direction. "Okay, we can go now."

Connor nods and smacks the shop owner's head as he starts to wake up, so he can escape safely.

Once again they take refuge in McGinty's, but this time no one has eyes full of pepper spray. Murphy is holding your picture and your address in his hands, he is smoking nervously and unlike last day, he has already drunk three beers. Rocco looks at your picture over his shoulder and mumbles.

"She's hot..." He nods taking a punch from Connor.

"What the fuck, man? Shut the fuck up." He chides him, but Murphy doesn't move, his eyes riveted on your picture. "What yer gonna do now?"

"I'll go to her house, talk to her..." He bites down on his thumbnail and stubs out the nearly finished cigarette butt.

"So what? Ya expect her to spray ya with the stuff again?"

"No, but... you've seen her file, she's still young enough to find another job."

"And yer gonna give her a job?"

"Maybe here at the pub... Doc needs help..."

"That's crazy, but okay, how do ya plan to convince her?"

"I-I don't know, I'll think about it as I go along..."

Connor looked at him with some pity in his eyes, but shook his head raising his hands, giving him a free hand to do what he thought he should do. He just hoped he didn't come back with eyes like two plums again.

******

Murphy walks nervously, playing with the cigarette halfway through his fingers. He has left work accompanied by his brother, but they have separated a few streets up. Connor has insisted on going with him, helping him as promised, but Murphy wants to do this alone.

You already reacted badly once, he doesn't want his brother to suffer the consequences, if there's a second one.

Taking one last puff on his cigarette, he tosses it to the ground as he fiddles with your address between his fingers before looking up, checking to see if that's the door to your house. Blowing the smoke slowly between his lips, he moistens them with the tip of his tongue and stretches out his arm, knocking on the door.

Instinctively he takes a step back, he still doesn't have a plan or a full monologue to convince you to leave the club where you're working, but he knows that if he doesn't do it now, he'll never be able to do it and he'll spend the rest of his days watching you through that mirror in your booth.

The door then opens, Murphy fidgets nervously playing with an unlit cigarette between his fingers as he bites his thumb. His surprise is heightened when on the other side of the door a boy appears.

"Hello..." He greets him in a confused, soft voice.

A boy. No older than four or five, watching him intently from head to toe. Murphy looks at him too, trying to say something coherent.

"Hel..."

"Are you my daddy?"

Murphy chokes on his own saliva, his eyes staring wildly at him. Suddenly a doubt assails his mind - is he his father? No...it can't be. His mind begins to fill with number and memory attempts. If that boy really is about five years old, Murphy tries to figure out if he knows you from that time. But it can't be, he would recognize your face. He has to admit that the child is a copy of you, with those eyes and those features, which doesn't help him much.

No. It's impossible. He'd remember being with you. Besides, he doesn't sleep with prostitutes. Maybe you weren't a whore back then, though.

Oh God what if you got into that job because of him? What if he pushed you down that sin path?

"Ciaran!" your voice is heard from inside the house. "How many times have I told you NOT to open the door?" you walk out to meet him and look at each other. "Sorry, whatever my son said to you..."

"Don't worry, Mom, he's an asshole." He laughs with the usual mischievousness of a child as he enters the house.

"Ciaran!" You scold him.

Okay, yeah, with that shitty temper he could be his son. Or Connor's. Or Satan's himself.

"I'm really sorry..." You apologize again.

"It's okay, lass, dun worry 'bout it." He shakes his head, trying to ease your nervousness a little.

"I... wait..." You stay quiet and stare at him. "Have we met before?" Murphy pales searching his mind for an excuse, but seeing your frown he knows you've recognized him. "You're the weird guy from the alley!"

"Ain't... ain't weird..."

"How did you find my house? Have you been following me?" you cross your arms with a clearly angry expression.

"No! No, no, lass, it wasn't like that. Yer boss gave us yer address."

"My boss? What do you mean 'us'?" You look around expecting some group of people to suddenly appear.

"No, I'm alone." Try to calm down. "My brother and I found yer address in yer boss's office." He explains, but that doesn't make things any better.

"Did you find... ? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you sick?" You look at him in disbelief.

"No, I just wanted to apologize, I scared ya the other day, I didn't mean for ya to be afraid of me." He quickly apologizes, but still doesn't get too close, he's learned from the first time.

"I'm not afraid of you..." You place your hands on your waist and Murphy thinks you look cute when you're angry. He shakes his head quickly putting those thoughts out of his mind.

"Still, I'm sorry... I thought I was doing something good and..." He scratches the back of his neck.

"I didn't ask for your help, I don't even know who you are."

"Murphy." He says quickly and you frown.

"What?"

"My name is Murphy Macmanus." He introduces himself by stretching out his hand to you, but you just look at him suspiciously.

"Whatever. I'm a big girl, I know how to take care of myself, I don't know what hero complex has possessed you, but find someone else." You insist, but Murphy shakes his head again.

"That's not the point..."

"Then you really are a client. All right, what do you want? If I blow you, will you leave me alone?"

"What? No! I don't want to..." He feels the tips of his ears burning. "It's just that I think you could have a better job."

"And now you're my father." You snort in disbelief. "Look, Murphy..." This one stirs uncomfortably at the whiplash of ennui he feels when you utter his name. "The day you find a job where I can make more than three hundred dollars an hour. Let me know, until then; good morning and I hope I never see you again because next time, I'll call the police." You assure him and slam the door in his face.

His eyes are still locked on your front door. Three hundred dollars an hour? Gee, maybe he should consider quitting the meat factory himself and getting into one of those booths. He shakes his head when he hears a tapping on one of the windows and sees Ciaran leaning out of it, waving goodbye to him.

"So long, daddy." He says with derision.

He rolls his eyes and walks away, cigar in his mouth and hands stuffed in his coat pockets. He doesn't want to go see Doc and the others, knows it will be humiliating again. He grunts and diverting his path he decides to go home.

**

"Murphy!"

He has trouble focusing his gaze, he doesn't know exactly where he is, he feels hot, the music is causing his ears to ring. He shakes his head, but the dull feeling doesn't go away.

"Murphy!"

It's your voice, he's sure of it, once again he tries to focus his sight, he's stuck in a narrow, dark-walled room, there's a monitor on one side and a window in front of him. He recognizes the place, it's one of those club booths, it's your booth, he blinks several more times.

"Murphy, please!" This time your voice sounds like a plea.

He finally manages to focus his gaze, on the other side of the mirror is you, lying on the floor with a shadow over you, it looks like a man's body, but it has no real definition. But it is hurting you. You are crying and there is blood on your hands.

Murphy gets up from the chair and feels his head bob dangerously. Is he being drugged? He runs clumsily to the door and try to open it, but with no hands he can't get a grip on the knob.

"What the fuck is going on!" He yells.

"Murphy, help me!"

"Fuck!" He turns back toward the glass.

His hands ball into fists, and he tries to punch the glass, but all his movements are in slow motion and anxiety builds in the pit of his stomach.

"Please!"

"Let her go!" He shouts through the glass watching as that shadow drags you away. "Let her alone, ya son of a bitch!" he yells again.

"Murphy!" You call out to him one more time before the shadow engulfs you completely.

"NO!"

**

"NO!" A piercing scream escapes his throat as he incorporates himself on his mattress.

"What the fuck!" Startles Connor in his own bed, turning to look at him. "What the fuck is wrong with ya, man!"

He's shaking, breathing hard, his eyes wide open, a film of cold sweat running down his entire body as he tries to pull himself together.

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

"Murphy, help me!"

No, it's something more than that.

"Yer listenin' to me?" his brother insists.

But Murphy jumps up from his bed, putting his twin on alert. Still without opening his mouth he reaches for his clothes and quickly gets dressed, Connor is unable to get his attention, his words not reaching his ears, not reaching his brain, the beeping still constant in his head, the sight of you calling for help the only thing he sees. He puts on his coat, grabs his gun and runs out of the apartment slamming the door.

"Murphy! Murph!" He calls out to him once more to no avail.

Murphy runs at full speed, his heart pounding in his chest, panting like a wounded animal, but he doesn't stop. The club where you work is some distance from his house, he has to hurry. The images, your cries for help, keep torturing his mind and his legs pick up speed.

Slipping on the ground, he circles the building as the neon lights greet him. He looks for the back door to the alley where he waited for you the other day and enters like a hurricane when one of the girls comes out, he pushes her, but doesn't stop to beg for forgiveness nerves tighten his throat like a noose.

"Asshole!" He hears her say behind his back.

He stumbles over several more girls, but finally makes it to your booth. He struggles with the door you enter and exit through, and when it opens, the girl inside freaks out, covering her body with her hands.

"Where is she!" He shouts nervously.

"W-who?" she asks frightened and when Murphy says your name she trembles. "A-a client requested her... in the upstairs rooms."

"Fuck!" He howls closing the door again and runs up to the second floor.

Along the way he encounters several security men, but he doesn't have time to argue with them, he knocks them out with an accurate punch to the jaw leaving them lying on the floor. When he reaches the second floor he hears your screams.

His pupils dilate and contract from adrenaline and rage. He draws his gun running down the hallway to the room the screams are coming from, tense his jaw and kick the door down.

The man above you startles getting up not expecting such an abrupt interruption. Murphy enters, pistol raised, and fires. He fires until he empties the clip into the body of the man who jerks with each new shot until he falls to the floor in a pool of blood. Murphy's vision is blinded by rage, breathing like a bull, his hands shaking.

He hears sobbing on the bed and everything inside him seems to change. He lowers the gun and his gaze sweeps around the room until he discovers you, lying on the bed, curled in on yourself, hands covering your ears.

"God, lass." He walks over to you, holstering the gun and grabs your wrists to get your attention.

"Don't do anything to me, please." You plead with tear-filled eyes, your makeup smearing black on your cheeks.

"No, no, it's okay, it's me; Murphy." He shushes you to look at him, surprise filling your face and he feels anger bubbling under his skin again. "Fuck, lass, what has he done to ya?" he whispers caressing your cheek.

Your left eye is bruised, your cheekbone is beginning to swell, your lip bears a cut that won't stop bleeding. That son of a bitch has gone overboard with you and no one has even tried to come to your aid.

If he could, Murphy would reduce that place to ashes with all of them in it.

"M-Murphy?" you whisper and he comes back to Earth.

"I'm here, come on...I'll get ya out of here." He promises you by quickly taking off his coat and throwing it over your shoulders.

Truth be told he hadn't even noticed your nakedness, barely a gold colored bra covers your breasts and your panties are torn and halfway down your thighs, but he doesn't seem to have reached out to touch you, which relieves him somewhat. Murphy helps you out of bed, trying not to scare you any more than you are he gets rid of your torn underwear and buttons all the buttons of his coat, it remains over your body like a huge heavy dress, but at least it covers up what that animal has tried to do to you. One of the girls then peeks through the door and Murphy raises his gun, it's unloaded, but she doesn't have to know that.

"You better get her out of here quick, they're coming." She warns him and gestures to him pointing to another emergency door.

"Thanks." He whispers putting the gun away and scoops you up in his arms carrying you out of the premises.

**

You still haven't said anything. You haven't opened your mouth since Murphy has carried you out of the premises in his arms. You haven't even protested not knowing where he was taking you, you haven't even asked him to put you down so you could go home. Your mind is off, you feel nothing except the pain in your face and hands. Murphy has discovered when he arrived at the apartment your red, slightly burned hands from holding on tightly to something trying to get away from that man.

Connor moves around you nervously, worried, angry. Not with you, he doesn't even know you, not with Murphy, he's proud of him because he saved you, he's pissed off with that bastard, although his twin has already taken care of him, disgusted with the society that exists today that allows that kind of thing. He snorts and mumbles through his teeth, handing Murphy a packet of peas wrapped in a towel.

His brother is cleaning the wounds on your hands with a damp towel, carefully cleans blood and checks that the abrasions are not important, no doubt you have fought against that guy, but he was too big for you alone.

"Here, or that eye will end up worse than it is." Connor tells and he nods placing the ice carefully on your cheek.

You finally react; a hiss escapes between your lips as you close your eyes, furtive tears escape without your permission, but you've struggled enough, you feel physically and mentally exhausted.

"I'm sorry..." Murphy whispers knowing he's hurt you. You open your eyes to look at him again, he gives you a small smile, it's sad and forced, he feels sorry for you, for what has happened to you, you don't deserve it and he couldn't help it.

"Why...?" You start to speak but your throat stings with every word.

"Don't talk, just shake yer head, okay?" he asks you and the confusion gets bigger. "Did he touch ya?" he asks you and suddenly the confusion turns to embarrassment. "I need to know, love..."

"Why? you've already killed him..."

"Aye, but I need to know if we should take ya to the hospital. If that pig has laid more than a hand on ya..."

"No... it didn't come to that, he was going overboard and I told him to stop... then he hit me and... and the whole thing was a mess."

"It's okay, it's okay." He shushes you again and gently hugs you, rocking you in his arms. "It's over now... they won't touch ya again." He promises you.

Connor watches the whole situation silently, at some distance, afraid to spoil the moment. He's never seen his brother emotionally attached to anyone but him, he finds it curious to see him with a girl, it's not like there's never been one, that's absurd, but it's always been a passing thing and Murphy has easily forgotten about it, as he himself has with his own experiences, but this is different. He really wants to protect you.

"How did you know where I was?" You ask him and Connor raises his head, he wants to know too.

"I just felt it." Murphy says with a shrug and his brother rolls his eyes. Now he's going to get cocky.

"You felt it?"

"Yeah." He shrugs and chews his lip a few times. "I went to see you and in your booth was another girl, so I asked your roommates and they told me you were up there." He explains, lying to you and Connor raises his eyebrows in surprise.

He's not going to tell you anything about his dream, some poetic bullshit about you calling for help and him coming to your rescue on his white horse? Wow, he's impressed.

"Oh, shit, Ciaran..." You say taking the pea bag out of your eye and look around. Murphy shakes his head.

"Sorry, lass, I didn't take anything from the room." He apologizes, but pulls a cell phone out of his pocket. "Here, use mine."

"Thanks..."

Murphy gets up from the floor to give you privacy as he picks up everything he's used to dress your wounds and walks to the other side of the open floor to throw away the gauze and looks to stop to prepare something to eat.

"Ciaran?" Connor asks him in a low voice.

"It's her son." He explains without looking at him.

"Oh shit, she has a son?" he speaks again in a low voice looking in your direction.

"A little five year old demon...I think." He mutters pulling out a pot and filling it with water.

Connor looks at him raising his eyebrows, but he responds by shaking his head, downplaying it, even he doesn't know how to explain it. He looks in your direction again, you're holding the phone to your ear and Connor can see perfectly well how your face suddenly changes.

"Ciaran..."

"Mom?" asks the boy on the other end of the line.

"Hi, honey, tell your aunt to put on, please." You ask and wait for your sister to answer.

"May I know where you are, you should have been back an hour ago." It's the first thing you hear.

"I'm sorry, there's been a problem at the club..." You lie, rubbing your forehead.

"A problem? What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just... can you stay with Ciaran tonight, please?" You ask licking your lip and hiss as you feel the sting of your wound.

"S- sure, you know it's no problem, but..."

"I'll tell you tomorrow, seriously. Thanks." You say goodbye to her and hang up before she asks any more questions.

"Are you okay?" Murphy asks you and you shake your head.

"Go with her, I'll handle this." Connor tells you and Murphy walks over to you again, sits down next to you and carefully pulls you into a hug.

*********

I hope you liked it!!

See you in the next stories!!

[fuwushiguro]

I’m Dying Of Thirst.

spoilers from the manga

part one

Dabi x f!StripperReader

Characters: Dabi

Genre: Smut & Angst

Notes: this is a sequel to this fic, it’s one of my favourites I’ve written so highly recommend you read that first. 🥰 this is also part of mine and @httptamaki​ party time collab!! I’m so excited since it’s my first collab and I got to host it with one of my besties! You can find the masterlist with all of the other fics here so be sure to check out everyone elses stuff!!

Warnings: 18+, dubcon // noncon, (ex) sex worker reader, alcohol, smoking, drug mentions, daddy kink, he is degrading to sex workers, fingering, penatrive sex, cream pie, degradation, public sex, cheating.

Words: 3.3k

Marriage. 

The legally or formally recognised union of two people as partners in a personal relationship (historically and in some jurisdictions specifically a union between a man and a woman). 

That’s how marriage is described when you search for the meaning of the word on the internet. It’s ridiculous, really, that you yourself are engaged to be wed. And to somebody respectable no less. Marriage is something you never thought you’d attain in your line of work. You met plenty of men while you expertly worked the pole centre stage in the strip club; but they aren’t exactly eligible bachelors. There is one other man you’d have considered marrying. He was a client of yours, although it’s contradictory to say. The men you meet in your line of work aren’t eligible bachelors, and he was no exception. He had his issues. He liked to work through them by stuffing your cunt full and fucking you until he forgot them, if only for a fleeting moment. A trademark of his was telling you he loved you while he slammed himself inside of your eager hole; but he’d never fail to tell you he didn’t mean it while he had a post coitus cigarette. You didn’t mind. It was easier that way. You were his girl, though. You heard from your ex-colleagues that he didn’t take it well that you quit being a stripper because you were getting hitched. But he was no concern of yours anymore.

You’re getting married.

Your bachelorette party didn’t seem like a necessity, but in the same breath, it was a necessity. You’ve never been married before. You’ve never dated before. The only other man you’ve been with is him. It isn’t unreasonable to hope that this marriage will be your one and only; so in turn this will be your only bachelorette party. Your fiancé didn’t mind, he encouraged it. He isn’t the most prim and proper man himself, but he is a pro hero with an image to maintain. Although he keeps that image as low key as he can. You questioned whether he’d like you to have some sort of classy tea party to celebrate rather than a tacky hen-do, but he shook his head. He encouraged the latter, and you exhaled a sigh of relief. Your bachelorette party should be fun. And to you, a bridal shower is all about getting messy drunk, drinking out of penis straws, and wearing a slutty version of a wedding dress.

You were downing jäger bombs like there was no tomorrow, dancing on the table in your VIP booth, and showing said slutty outfit to everyone in the bar that could see you. You were head to toe in white. Utterly ironic for anyone who knew you got railed by one of your strip club patrons like a complete skank and your future husband made you cry his name into your soft cotton sheets every night. You were a virgin before your job as a stripper. He was the one to deflower you. You wore a white strapless mini dress that barely covered your tits or your panties, white lace, obviously. Your friends bought you a bright pink sash that read the words bride-to-be that you wore across your body, and they even got you a tacky plastic tiara with a white veil that covered the back of your head. You had to admit that although you felt incredibly cheap, you felt sexy as hell when you matched the outfit with knee high white stockings and the tallest white heels you could find in a store.

Most of your friends were cheering as you shook your ass on the table, but there was one who was incredibly concerned for your safety. They were the type of friends who supported you no matter what, they all knew what your job was before you got engaged. They always asked you to teach them how to pole dance, and you were happy to show them. You started hosting pole parties at your home after you got one installed so you could practice yourself. The night always started off with good intent but ended with you all black out drunk with takeout boxes everywhere. Your fiancé didn’t ask you to quit your job, he knew what you did too, but you thought it would look better for him and his image if you left the stripper life behind.

The one friend who was panicking over your well-being breathed a sigh of relief when you got down from standing on the table and opted to sit on the edge of it instead. You had a whole bottle of champagne to yourself with one of those pink penis straws you loved so much. Pursed lips wrapped around the tip of the plastic as you people watched through the club. It was a relief that you got a VIP booth, honestly, because the rest of the club was heaving and rowdy.

Everyone was out of their sound state of minds, whether it be through drugs or alcohol. It didn’t bother you though. What else do you expect in a nightclub? Your attention was directed to the restrooms when a door swung open. There was a petite girl with long blonde hair who stepped out, a man followed her. No prizes for guessing what they were up too. She turned to face him and her lips smashed against his. His body language was unusual. It was like he didn’t quite expect or want that to happen. It could have been a random club hook-up.

From the back of his figure alone, he seemed to fit in with the club vibe. He had alabaster hair with black-tipped edges. He was tall, at least 6’3” or 6’4”. He shoved his hands into his pockets, as if he was putting something away. It dawned on you that it could be possible he was the person supplying drugs to people in this place. You wanted to turn away, if he saw you it might rouse his suspicion and make you some kind of target. But your alcohol hazed mind didn’t react in time, instead of turning you slurped your champagne through your perverted straw like it was ice cold water on a hot summer’s day. And he turned around. He turned around and his eyes locked with yours.

Your heart stopped beating for that brief moment.

For that split second your eyes met his you physically felt your heart cease to function how it was meant to, and you thought you died then. But as soon as it stopped, it started again. You felt your stomach drop into your lower intestine and two tears begin to well in each of your eyes.

It was him.

He instantly gave you a thin-lipped smile, the type you give to someone as you walk down the street that you aren’t quite familiar enough with to stop and say hello. He weaved through the crowd, you’d be certain you’d lose him to the masses if not for that new hair colour of his. You couldn’t move. You wanted to but you were frozen like a porcelain doll on the edge of the table.

Your friends were concerned. You’d been so frozen and transfixed on your former lover being at the same club as you that you’d been totally oblivious to them calling your name for the last five minutes. She’s too drunk. They claimed. Maybe we should take her home. They deliberated. When you felt a soft feminine hand on the fat of your thigh, you were finally brought back to reality. She looked into your eyes like you were a wounded puppy, too stupid, too immature, too drunk. You slapped her hand away and dumped your champagne bottle on the table with a thunk. It was only until you got yourself down safely, though. Because as soon as you found your footing you grabbed it again as you abandoned your group.

You had to talk to him.

You had to talk to Touya.

You discovered him hidden in a corner speaking to an equally shady young man, exchanging money and goods between themselves. When you were spotted, the latter skulked away with his hands in his pockets. It was surreal to see him again. Seeing him again after so long and looking so different with his new white as snow hair, but at the same time he was so familiar. He was counting the bills of cash in his hands, not paying you a lick of attention. You were with countless numbers of other people in this club, but while he was in front of you it felt like the pair of you were alone together. He was so familiar to you, and yet you could cut the tension between you with a knife.

“Have you come to ruin my night, Touya?”

Even at the mention of his name he proceeded to ignore you. But you know Touya better than anyone. Maybe even better than he knows himself. So the way that his hands stopped counting paper bills for a split second when he heard his name didn’t go unnoticed by you. The way his nose flared slightly didn’t go unnoticed. The way his eyes widened ever so slightly didn’t go unnoticed. But still, he kept counting and counting. Keeping you wondering and waiting.

“Y’sure think highly of yourself, don’tcha princess?” he finally answered, still not removing his gaze from his cash.

“Well what are you—”

“D’ya really think I spend my days planning how I can ruin things for you? You’re just a stripper, sweetheart, take it down a few notches will ya?” he insulted, your blood ran cold at the harsh speech from your former lover. He’s always been firm and a little rough, but at that moment he was being outright nasty.

“Okay. I’ll leave you alone then Touya.” you told him as you stumbled away from him. Barely able to keep your footing with the combination of your high heels and alcohol-soaked brain. You heard Touya scoff from behind you, but you didn’t have the motor skills to face him again and respond.

“I didn’t think I could see you look like anymore of a whore, and I’ve seen you grinding on poles… Fuck, I’ve even seen you naked. And you’re wearing white? The virginal blushing bride? Gimme a break,”

It took a surreal amount of strength to not chew him out. It was killing you to not give him a piece of your mind. But you carried on walking away from him, because you’re better than that. You are grown. You don’t have anything to prove to him. You’re in love, your husband is a great man and a wonderful hero. And what is Touya? He’s jealous. So you walked away with your head held high, knowing you had the rest of the evening to enjoy with your friends.

But instead of that, you felt a tight grip on the flesh of your upper arm pull you. Of course it was Touya, he was dragging you away from your chosen route. He shoved you inside of the bathroom he’d previously left with the other girl and locked the door behind him.

“I just can’t believe it babe. I can’t believe a slut like you thinks you’re better than me.” he hissed, caging you against the wall in his arms.

You had never been terrified of Touya before. He’d scared you a little when he got particularly worked up regarding his life and his trauma, but you always managed to calm him down. He’d never done anything to make you fear for your life, he was just like any other guy when he was with you. But right now you were terrified. Because for the first time you weren’t seeing Touya. You were seeing Dabi from the League Of Villains.

“I saw ya with your pathetic fucking friends in the VIP area, sucking on that cock straw,” he began as he gestured to your champagne bottle, hissing through his teeth as he eyed you like a lobster on a silver platter. “you looked like a fuckin’ pro, you’ve had my cock in your mouth enough times though, right? Does your pro hero husband know you’re a slut for villain cock?” he tormented, smiling sadistically down at your trembling frame.

“You really miss me, huh, Touya?” you spoke. Although you were quivering with fear, the alcohol in your system was giving you an air of confidence you didn’t know you had. Your head tilted upwards so you could stare into his eyes. They were like swimming pools, as blue as the tiles in a hotel resort pool and you were certain you’d drown in them if you carried on. But you didn’t care. If this was how you had to go, so be it.

“I’ve fucked girls before you, and I’ve fucked them since you. What makes you think you’re so special doll?” he questioned, clearly trying to maintain his composure.

He was expecting you to have a witty retort since you had so much to say this evening. But instead, you broke your gaze from his and looked down at the ground. You shrugged your shoulders and sighed.

“I would have married you if you asked me, y’know. But you don’t love me, right?” you told him. His trademark smirk drifted from his features as he searched your face for any signs of teasing or trickery. But it wasn’t a joke, if he’d asked you would have said yes in a heartbeat. But he made it very clear that he didn’t love you. So who was he to stop you from moving on?

Before you could register what he was doing, he hoisted you up and forced you to wrap your legs around his hips. He planted you onto the sink surfaces. The marble was cold against your body, the thin sheen of sweat layered on your skin making you colder a lot faster. Droplets of water sank into your skin that had been left from other’s washing their hands. Touya leaned his forehead onto yours and you weren’t sure if the pounding you could hear was the bass from the DJ booth or Touya’s heartbeat.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me doll.” he huffed.

“’m not teasin’ Touya. I woulda married you, because I love you.” you confess.

The present tense doesn’t go unnoticed by him. You said love. Not loved. Love. You still love him. A feeling that intense wouldn’t just go away, no matter what you did to ignore it. You did love your fiancé too, but not like Touya. Touya’s the first man you let have you intimately. Touya’s the man who showed you how to fuck and what he likes. He moulded you to be his, but he didn’t love you. It was fine, it hurt, but it was fine. Being with him was enough for you, you loved him, but he was enough. Your feelings for your fiancé are nowhere near as intense as they are for Touya. He gestured to your panties, asking for permission to proceed, and you nodded.

“Wanna show me how much you love me princess?” he questioned.

He moved your panties to the side to reveal the glossy flesh underneath. He wasn’t ashamed to lick his lips in front of you at the sight. He did miss you. He did miss the secret treasure between your thighs that grounded him and made him feel something.

“Yes daddy,” you moaned, and he opened your legs wider, “I love you so much, please fuck me daddy.” you mewled as he could no longer keep himself away from your pussy. He slowly plunged two fingers into your keen hole and pulled them straight out, admiring the webbed slick on his fingers and how ready you were to take his cock.

He unbuckled the belt on his trousers and pulled out his erection. He patted your throbbing bead with his tip a few times before sliding himself up and down your slit to collect your arousal on his shaft. He pushed the tip inside and the stretch was glorious. You hadn’t felt so good in so long. Having someone you love so unequivocally share their body with you is a feeling you can’t describe. It was just the tip and you were already crying and whimpering, desperate to cum.

He sheathed himself inside of you all of the way to the hilt and began a relentless pace. He squashed your cheeks in his large palm until your lips puckered, delivering a sloppy wet kiss to your lips. He did you a favour by not leaving any marks on you. You were grateful, but also disappointed that you wouldn’t have any sign of him on your body.

“Gotta make it a quickie baby, got shit to do here. Are ya close?” he wondered, pulling down the top of your little dress to expose your tits to him. He was practically salivating as he admired how they bounced from each of his thrusts.

“Mhmm.” you told him, lying, but wanting to be good for him.

He slapped your right breast and you jolted at the surprise contact. Your walls constricted around his cock and he moaned loudly at the pressure.

“Use your words sweetheart. Are ya close?” he repeated.

“Y-Yes! Yes daddy!” you squeaked.

A few more thrusts and he was a goner. It was like he was disappointed that things had to end so soon. You’d only just found each other again, only just gotten each other back and things had to end so quickly.

“Oh, fuck. Baby, baby baby I’m cummin’ – shit – I love you. I fuckin’ love your pussy, princess. Such a good girl f’me.”

There it is. That fucking trademark I love you. You should have known he hadn’t changed. It was foolish to think he was starting to heal from his demons. Allowing his hair to grow out to it’s natural white hasn’t made him any less of the Touya you’d known. It wrenched your heart slightly to know that he was the same, that nothing you told him mattered, but you suppose it’s for the best. He tucked himself away and moved your panties back to keep his cum snuggly inside your cunt. He doesn’t seem to care that you didn’t cum, he usually makes it his mission to fuck you to completion. But you suppose he has things to do, he’s too busy to help you out. It’s for the best, really, it makes you feel slightly less guilty that you’ve cheated on your fiancé. It was the most cliché way to cheat too, at your fucking bachelorette party. But you fixed your outfit and took in a few deep breaths, knowing that you’d have to sit with your friends again with Touya’s cum settled disgustingly in your cunt and your underwear. You turned the lock on the door and almost left him there without saying a word. But he had something to say to you.

“Babe, I—”

“Don’t love me. I know Touya, we’ve been through this.” you interjected with a genuinely warm smile to let him know it’s okay. It is okay. You’re engaged to be married and he doesn’t love you. It’s a win-win by all accounts. But he squeezed your shoulder lightly, it felt otherworldly. An unfamiliar sensation you had never experienced before from him.

He loves you.

“Good luck with the wedding princess.” he told you, overstepping you and opening the door to leave.

You gave a curt nod as a thank you and he stepped out to leave again. But before he did, he had a few more parting words for you.

“A pro hero… Shigaraki thinks he’s so cool,” he began. You cleared your throat feeling slightly uncomfortable at the mention of his boss, an unpleasant reminder of who Touya really is and who you’ve chosen to share your body with.

“Erasure is a pretty cool quirk. I wonder if he can use it to erase the little bastard I just fucked into you.”

© 2021 fuwushiguro

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[taehyungsgrowl]

I would love to see Duncan x StripperReader!!

YEE YEE!!!! IT COMING! I’M ALMOST DONE W SHY MICHAEL FEAT. DIRTY TALK SO THATS MY NEXT PROJECT! 

[fuwushiguro]

What Love Got to Do with It?

spoilers from the manga

part two

Dabi x f!StripperReader

Characters: Dabi

Genre: Smut & Angst

Notes: Was listening to Real by Kendrick Lamar and this happened you’re welcome xxx

Warnings: 18+, dubcon // noncon, sex worker reader, smoking, alcohol, daddy kink, squint n he is degrading to sex workers, fingering, penatrive sex, (slight) cunninglingus, cream pie, degradation, humiliation, marking, dacryphilia, hickeys, spanking, 

Words: 4.6k

☆ ☆ ☆

Dabi had been with the league for quite some time now, and they were all oblivious to his true identity. Not a single member of the league knew of his family history. His real name was Touya. And he had discovered some very unsettling news today. His little brother, Touya’s vile place holder, his replacement, had received his provisional hero license.

Touya’s main role in the league was an absent one. It was rare he was around, and his colleagues didn’t mind. He left under the guise of recruitment work, which was mostly true. He’d leave for days at a time, searching for new meat to join their villainous organisation. Of course, no one was ever good enough. Nobody was up to the standards of what the league had already set, so recruitment would turn into target practice for his immolating quirk. They were mere sacrifices to his cause.

While he did spend his time searching for recruits, that isn’t how he spent all of his time. Touya had a lot of pent-up rage, he was furious at the world and everyone in it. But he knew deep down this was simply how he coped with the sorrowful melancholy that dwelled within him. He ignored it; he couldn’t be sombre. He was a villain. Villains don’t have emotions, other than anger. So Touya developed some coping mechanisms.

He didn’t think he’d ever become a smoker. But Jin always looked his calmest with a cigarette between his fingers. Why the fuck shouldn’t I have a cigarette? He asked himself as he held his hand out expectantly to his blonde colleague. Jin laughed. Surely, he wasn’t assuming he was about to give him the cigarette latched between his lips? Or worse yet, an untouched cigarette that he worked so hard to steal. But that’s exactly what he was expecting. So Jin’s laughter was short lived as he pulled the carton out of his jeans. He passed one of his precious cigarettes to his ‘friend’ and ignited the flame on his lighter for him. But Dabi didn’t need a lighter. He used his index finger to spark a scorching sapphire flame and light the cherry of the cigarette, because Dabi is too cool for his own fucking good.

His smoking intake doubled each day. One became two. Two became four. Four became twenty… The maths doesn’t check out. But he was smoking like a chimney. It felt right, it felt good. He stopped bothering Jin for them and began getting his own. A cigarette always found purchase between his scarred lips whenever he was out on his little enrolment missions. He loved the taste, he never felt more alive than he did after incinerating some irrelevant nothing people and sparking up as he watched them turn to kindling. The tobacco smell somehow managing to overcome the stench of broiling bodies.

Touya smoked almost as much as he drank. Yes, his draft applications kept him away for days at a time, but obviously he wasn’t doing that the whole time. Maybe he’d stay out a little while longer when he’d drank himself so stupid he woke up in a back alley of a dive bar among the trash bags and shame of the previous evening. Maybe he’d stay out a little while longer when he needed a few extra hours to sleep off his raging hangovers.

It was crazy that there were places so welcoming to villains. Exclusively for villains and the heroes as well as the commission were completely oblivious to it. Maybe that’s what made villains so frightening. So intimidating. The way they could hide in plain sight and the heroes were too up their own asses to see it. There was one little dive spot that he adored. No one dared speak to him because everyone knew who he was and what he was capable of. The only people who would converse with him were the bar staff and the people Dabi would give the time of day.

But there was another place he loved to go. A little hole in the wall where he’d go to blow off steam. Where he’d go to find comfort and take his frustrations out. It was a little strip club that was only known to a couple of high-profile villains. Everyone in the league would be welcome if Dabi had the decency to share this little find with them. But he’d never tell. Because this place was his little secret. You were his little secret.

☆ ☆ ☆

When he walked in, you were already on stage. Twirling around the pole doing the little seductive dance you do. Illuminated with every colour of a colour wheel as the stage lights shone down on you. There were men with their tongues hanging out, leering at you, throwing their money at your feet. A song was playing he wasn’t familiar with, it was slow and sensual, maybe Rihanna? He’d have to ask you when you finished. He’d be able to add it to his playlist, songs he likes to pump his cock too while he pictures you like this.

He loved to watch you climb the pole and spiral down. The way your hips would gyrate in unison with the beat of the music. He wanted to see your cunt grind against his crotch like that, while he was balls deep inside of you. He ordered a drink, whiskey. He hated it. It reminded him of his father, but he drank it to ground him. To remember what everything was for. Why he had to suffer day in day out. Why he had to keep his little secrets.

He sat with his back to the bar as he continued to watch you perform. He watched you as your prowled across the floor of the stage like a hungry lioness. Giving the perverts too close to the stage a perfect opportunity to ogle your pert breasts. The way your diamante bralette gave a little tease of what would be underneath. The men could venture in their minds of the sick things they’d like to do to you. Dabi believes that the most pussy deprived men, men that will never get pussy willingly sit at the front.

Don’t they see how uncomfortable they make you? You’re putting on a good show because you’re fucking amazing. You mystify him each time he sees you, how well you handle yourself and handle your demeanour around these sick perverse fucks. But do these creeps really think because they’re sitting so close, eyeballing your every move, throwing notes at you, that you’d ever give them the heavens gate that is the cunt between your thighs?

Never.

When you spot him, you don’t rush to him instantly. He isn’t your priority, after all. You have so many paying customers beneath your feet right now. So you take your time. You revel in the slow sensual music that you prefer when it’s your time on stage, the type that the seedy DJ always knows to play when you walk on stage. You work the pole like you were the person who invented pole dancing. You crawl across the floor giving a cheeky presentation to your assets. Your supple tits, your juicy ass, your clothed pussy. You know everyone who looks can see the outline of your folds. They might even see a small developing damp patch if they look hard enough. You roll around in a pile of bills that have been scattered at your feet. The stench of dirty money getting you hot and bothered.

Dabi knows your little game. He knows you aren’t giving him your attention on purpose, because you know it infuriates him. You should give an indication to him that you’re pleased by his presence. A subtle wink. A playful wave. Look at him god dammit. But you don’t, and it won’t be long before you remember why you play these little games with him. He can’t help but smirk when he sees you rolling around in your nightly earnings, the way you give a naughty look that he’s all too familiar with. He can’t blame you, money is delicious. It is the root of all evil, that’s why he’s here.

Corruption is what made him who he is. His fathers selfish endeavour of the pursuit of number one hero. That was the first time he found himself at this joint, the first time he found you. When Endeavour officially became the new number one. He was oddly happy for him, in a sick sort of way. But he couldn’t help but feel pure, unadulterated fury. The way he treated him in his childhood made him sick. It made him sad. But he’d continue to ignore that. And then little Shoto came along. Touya, Fuyumi and Natsuo were all failed little experiments. They were all thrown on the fucking scrap heap when Shoto came along.

That’s why he’s here tonight. Another fucking reminder of his childhood. Shoto living up to their father’s ideals. He got his brand spanking new, shiny provisional hero license. He was well on his way to following in their father’s footsteps. It was meant to be Touya. Enji should have been training him to be his fucking prodigy child. Touya was clenching his jaw a little too hard. A little too hard that a staple tore and all he could taste in his mouth was whiskey and copper. His fury commanded the room. It was so strong it commanded your vision into his searing gaze.

He wanted you off that fucking stage. And he wanted you off it now.

☆ ☆ ☆

You collected your money and took it backstage. You’d never work a shift and end up with anything less than two trash bags full of cash. You didn’t get changed, what would be the point? You’d go straight in your car and straight home to bed, only to live an otherwise suburban life until you did it all over again the following evening. But not tonight. Not when he was waiting by the bar for you. He watched you saunter out from backstage with your trash bags full of cash. His eyes were fixated on the way your hips swaggered from side to side in your sexy little diamante studded lingerie. Looking like a perfect gift for him. He shot down the remainder of his drink and stepped towards you, ready to walk in unison as you left the establishment together.

He demanded you give him the keys to your car. Your unassuming little black Ford Fiesta. You stopped and turned to him. He didn’t understand why. You began gesturing to your breasts. He didn’t believe you were really that slutty, were you? He put his hand down that gorgeous little bralette of yours; fingers grazing over your nipples as he searched. You looked dead into his gaze as you let out a soft whimper of arousal at the contact of your sensitive buds. You really were that slutty. Leaving your car keys between your tits for him to find. He knew there was a reason he liked you more than the other performers.

He got in the driver’s seat of your vehicle while you dumped the bags of cash in your boot. You tottered quickly over in your platform heels to the passenger side. He didn’t pay you for your company. You just liked him. He reversed out onto the road, completely focused on his surroundings. Knowing to be wary in case a cop car was nearby. But he rested a hand on your thigh, letting you know he was there with you. That he wanted you. His little finger strayed, travelling casually to your obedient pussy.

“Spread for me.” he commanded. You obeyed.

You mewled at the contact of his pinky touching your clit over the fabric of your panties. But it wasn’t enough for him. He knew it would be too much of a hassle to take them off, your jewel encrusted garter belt getting in the way, so he slipped in through the side of your panties. Touching you far too inappropriately for someone who’s main attention should be oncoming traffic. His main objective should be getting you both home in one piece so you could continue this little sinful dance you did.

“You aren’t nearly wet enough for me sweetheart,” he began. The slight tinge of disappointment in his otherwise sultry tone causing a pang in your heart. “I want you drenched by the time we get to your place.”

You wanted to be what he asked of you. No other words were exchanged the rest of the ride to your house. You placed all of your focus into his touch, the way he masterfully touched your heat without giving it his full attention. Not even looking over to you to see if you were enjoying it. Not looking at you to see if he was doing a good job. Because he knew he was. His feather light touches were just a teaser for what was to come, because Dabi was furious. And your poor cunt was to take the brunt of his frustrations.

He wasn’t looking at you. But you were looking at him. The way his eyes narrowed in on certain cars and specific lights. The way he’d bite his bottom lip when he coaxed specific little noises from you. The way he let out a soft exhale when your cunt involuntarily bucked against his hand, demanding more friction. More touching. More him.

He parked in your driveway and stepped out of the car before you. He held your keys in his hands, so it wasn’t wrong of you to think he’d go and unlock your door. But instead he came to your side of the car, practically pulling you out of the vehicle. He hooked your leg onto his hip, and you stumbled towards the hood of your car.

You tried to push him away.

“Wait!” you told him.

But you wouldn’t overpower him. He was a villain. He was a man. He was stronger than you. You had some upper arm strength thanks to your dancing, but not enough to overcome the advances of a wanted criminal.

“No!” he snapped, “I can’t wait anymore!” he told you as he carried on fumbling with the hooks of your garter belt.

“My neighbours will see, Dabi. Please.” you cooed. He wasn’t often like this. He saw you often, but not like this. Seeing him this erratic made you realise something must have pissed him off big time. There was only so much you could do, and asking nicely wasn’t often a winning ticket.

“I don’t care about your neighbours doll. I told you I can’t wait anymore, so shut up.” he harshly grunted, his ferocity getting the better of him in his attempt to undress you.

You tried to soothe him. Calming him down when he was like this was a gargantuan task. Hums and hushes didn’t usually do the trick, but tonight it helped if only slightly. He rested his head in your sternum and his breathing regulated. You wrapped your arms around him, completely engulfing his body in yours like a sloth clinging onto a tree branch. And he carried you. He kept one arm under your backside as he held your house keys with his free hand. You clung onto him and squeezed so tightly in fear of being dropped. But he’d never drop you. He’d be a fool to drop you. You could feel his cock throb against your core while he put the key in the door. So you started rutting into him. Humping against him like a bitch in heat.

“Hey. Stop it.” he instructed.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t help yourself. How could he expect you to obey when he got you so worked up? It was more shocking that he had the audacity to comment on your dry humping when he almost couldn’t wait long enough to get into your house before he fucked you. Almost defiling you in full view of your neighbours’ sleepy homes. It was late after all, maybe 4am. But you always came home late, and you had nosy neighbours. You’re sure they would take note of you bringing a man home. They’d definitely have something to say if you let him fuck your brains out on the hood of your car.

You knew there was no way you’d be making it up the stairs to your bedroom. It was lucky that you had a comfy couch in your front room. He set you down as he began to strip. But he told you to keep your clothes on. His shirt was off first, and he clearly didn’t have the time to remove anything else but his shoes and socks before he was on you again. You were kissing his charred lips all of the way to the sofa. He sat down first, reaching around to spank you to demand that you straddle him.

He trailed kisses from your lips, down to your neck, down between the valley of your breasts. He was sick of your slutty little uniform. He grabbed your diamante bralette and ripped it apart. You gasped when you heard the clattering of the jewels colliding with your wooden floor.

“Dabi! I loved that bra.” you whined. He used one of his large hands to grab your jaw, his fingers were long enough to smush your lips to a pucker.

“Aw, doll, I’ll buy you a new one.” he told you, “Will that make you stop being such a pouty little bitch?” he wondered. He nodded your head for you, letting you know that was the only acceptable answer.

“Yush.” was the best you could get out with your face in his powerful grip.

“Good fucking girl.” he told you. He pushed your panties to the side so he could get an eyeful of the slit he’d been so desperate to ravish. His eyes widened at the sight of your sodden folds, how obedient his beautiful girl is. What a well behaved little pussy he owns, “Yes baby, my fucking good girl aren’t you?” he told you as he used his thumb to swipe back and forth across your swollen bud.

“Uh-huh.” you nodded, already close to your orgasm. His frantic actions by the car and your soft humping against his clothed member inducing you into a state that had you ready to cum instantly. The speed of his thumb sending shudders across your body.

“Hump my cock while I play with your clit princess, keep being a good little girl for me. ‘kay?”

“Mhmm, o-okay daddy.” you mewled.

You were so hypnotised by Dabi. You let him fuck you the first night you met. It was rare for someone in your profession to be a virgin, but you were. But not for long. He walked in the night of your first shift and he looked at you with a hunger in his eyes. It was like he could smell the innocence radiating from you. You weren’t like the other whores on the poles. You seemed a little more uncomfortable, unsure of yourself. So he asked you for a private dance. It was technically against the rules for customers to touch the talent, but you let him. You let him and then some. You’ve been intoxicated on the feeling of his cock ever since, it was a blessing and a curse. Surely you were ruined for any other man now. He knows your body oh so well. He made you a more confident dancer. He made you a better fuck hole for him. Only him.

You came undone with an crashing orgasm and a raucous moan to boot. He kept telling you to be quiet. Be quiet like a good girl. It was early after all, he was right. But the feeling of his cock grazing your folds and his thumb playing your clit like that, it wasn’t something you could control. He slapped your ass cheek, letting you know he wanted you off him.

“Move.” he simply spoke, slapping you again.

He shoved you down back onto the sofa when you clearly weren’t moving at a speed to his liking. You rested your arm on the arm rest and your ass was in the air, presenting your tremoring cunt to him. It made him sigh humorously, clearly amused by the effect he had on your sex. He ran his tongue up the line the line of your slit, you couldn’t help the yelp that fell from your chest. You could hear the sounds of fabric moving around, soon followed by the feeling of Dabi coating his erection in your arousal.

“D-daddy! Prep!” you commanded, knowing he was too big to take comfortably otherwise.

“No please? Is that anyway to speak to daddy after he just made you cum?” he queried. You shook your head, hastily repeating your request with an added please for good measure. “No, I need to fuck you now. I’m done waiting!” he growled voraciously, the sound making you shudder ever so slightly.

He was a man of his word. It was abundantly clear he was tired with waiting when he plunged all of the way inside of you, bottoming out against your cervix. You might not make it to work tomorrow after all. The pace he set was agonising as he continued slamming himself as far inside as he could get. Dragging almost all of the way out and then right back in. The pain was unbearable, tears began to flow which delighted him further.

“What a pretty angel you are when you cry for daddy’s dick.” he huffed. His balls were slapping against your puffy clit, the friction making the brutal fucking slightly less intolerable.

“Daddy…” you cried between hiccupped sobs. Gently, he laughed, still such an obedient little whore no matter how much pain you were in. You were the perfect little cock sleeve. No one else got to enjoy this pussy but him. He could do what he pleased with you, and he was going to make you cry like this until he wasn’t so fucking angry at the cards he’d been dealt in life. And you’d let him. Because you are so well behaved for your daddy.

He leaned forwards onto you while he carried on battering your entrance. Using one hand to fondle your clit and another to roll one of your pebbled nipples between his fingers. It was starting to feel good for you. It was feeling better when he was making a conscious effort to make it better. It was better for him too. Because you started to clamp his cock with a killer gorilla grip. He was pounding your gummy insides until you could swear you felt your soul leave your body. You felt so hollow you could barely focus anymore. Your body went limp, all you could feel was him. He was sucking down your spine and leaving hickeys in his wake. Marking you up good and proper, everyone watching you on stage would know you were someone’s property. You were someone else’s whore. Dabi’s whore.

“What a stupid little whore you are. Fucked so stupid from daddy’s big cock, huh?” he muttered.

You couldn’t register anything anymore, you didn’t register when he slowed his pace ever so slightly. You didn’t take any notice when he reached for something in his pocket. You didn’t process the sound of a pen lid popping off a marker that he bit between his teeth. You didn’t feel it when he wrote stupid on your forehead. You smiled, stupidly of course. Completely unaware to the insult, the degradation he’d thrust upon you. He let out a bemused chuckle when your tongue lolled out of your mouth when he quickened his pace yet again. You make him feel better. You make him feel things he doesn’t understand. But he doesn’t quite forget his problems enough for him to take it any easier on your flaccid body.

“I love you. I love you. I fucking love you.” he told you as he humped into you harder than he ever had before.

You were too fucked out to even feel yourself cum for a second time. Your walls convulsed around him, strengthening their ownership of your daddy’s cock. Cumming like a good little slut for him. You moaned, involuntarily. Because your body knew it felt oh so perfect. Clamping him so hard because he dicked you down so good. Blanketing his shaft in your cream and juices, because you are the best little cock sleeve he could ask for.

He loves your cunt. He loves it so much he doesn’t love anything else. He hates himself too much. A rejected failed experiment. He hates himself so much he should hate everything else. Should he hate your juicy cunt too? Should he hate himself for living his life to only be pleased when he steps inside of your club? Should he hate you for watching him across the club, luring him into your untouched walls? Maybe. Maybe he should. But he’s still crying out his love for you. He doesn’t mean it, but he wants to feel something. He slaps your face lightly until you wake up, he wants you to hear him cum. He wants you to hear what you and your gorgeous pussy reduce him too. He hopes you didn’t hear him confess his falsified feelings before you came to. But you tense your core for him, performing a kegel hoping to push him over the edge.

That’s why he fucks you. Because no matter what you’re always going to be the best little hole, knowing what he wants so desperately. He egregiously cums into you. Spraying your insides white, filling you to the brim with his kids. He stays inside until his balls are completely emptied out into your throbbing cunt. He pulls out and watches your pretty pussy spit his cum back out. Your eager little hole clenching around nothing, you couldn’t possibly be ready to go again. He knows he wants round two, but not quite yet. He wants a drink first. But he leans against the other arm of the sofa to spark a precious cigarette up first. He needs a breather, he needs to decompress.

☆ ☆ ☆

You turn onto your back, leaning against the same sofa arm you’d just been fucked raw against. You’re still feeling frisky. He’s completely shocked, he thought you were out for the count. He thought you’d be rushing to your bed. But you set one foot to the ground and hook one as best you can over the back of the couch. You sensually stroke your clit for him to watch. Your pussy completely spread open, letting him watch his sperm dribble out of your adorable needy cunt. He’s sure you couldn’t see a more beautiful sight in the Louvre. So, he smiles. But the smile quickly fades when he realises he has something to say to you, an apology of sorts.

“If you heard me… I didn’t mean it,” he tells you. He looks into your eyes and you don’t react, still playing with your pussy like a perfect pet. “If you heard me say I love you, I need you to know I didn’t mean it.” he adds. You still don’t stop, it feels too good. You feel too good. But you do speak.

“I know,” you mewl, flicking yourself just right to steal a softcore moan from you.

Dabi smokes some more, allowing himself to continue enjoying the sight of his slutty princess playing with herself for him. Seeing his cum seep out because he owns her.

“What’s love got to do with it when you don’t love yourself?”

© 2021 fuwushiguro

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