#TIDAL CLUB | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doumadono · 6 months ago

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AMORIA - act I

Warnings: finger fucking, humiliation, spanking, threesome, double pu**y penetration, oral (m & f receiving), squirting, asphyxiation, Dabi being Dabi, creampie, unprotected s*x, Shiggy is the boss, spit is everywhere, so is cum, more than 13k words (8k words for smut itself - you've been warned!), alcohol usage, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fem!reader

Synopsis: after a breakup, you found yourself at a club infamous for being frequented by villains, desperate to drown out all the bad memories. That’s where you encountered two of the most powerful villains — Shigaraki Tomura and Todoroki Touya, formerly known as Dabi. Upon discovering and testing your quirk, an idea began to take root in Tomura’s mind. And naturally, why stop there? Why not test your other talents too?

AMORIA - act II (to be added) AMORIA - playlist MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART III MAIN M.LIST

Waking up felt like crawling through fog, each blink a struggle against the dim, dizzy haze leftover from last night’s drinks. Blurred flashes came and went, half-formed memories that made little sense. The heaviness settled in slowly, the realization that this wasn’t your bed striking a second before something shifted against your waist.

A scarred arm draped loosely around your waist, its calloused fingers brushing your bare skin with a possessive kind of laziness, the rough pads of fingers brushing over the curve of your abdomen. Breath, hot and slow, fanned across your nape with each rise and fall of the man's chest. Dabi lay pressed against you, his white hair a tousled mess that grazed your shoulder, his sharp features softened just enough by sleep to make you forget, for a moment, how dangerous he really was. Even in sleep, he moved with a casual possessiveness, shifting closer, pressing his frame firmly against your back, grinding his slack cock against your bare ass from time to time. The warmth radiating from Todoroki felt alive, almost searing, as though the man behind you burned hotter than anything should.

The pounding in your skull throbbed with each inhale, a dizzying reminder of just how much you’d had to drink last night. The haze hadn’t lifted yet, your thoughts murky, slippery, and impossible to pin down. Bracing yourself, you blinked slowly, inhaling through parted lips as the sheer weight of his body pressed you further into the mattress. Shifting slightly, you turned, trying not to jolt yourself awake too quickly, and that’s when you saw him.

Tomura was sprawled out on your left, his wiry frame half-splayed across the mattress. His chest rose slowly, bare and warm. One hand was tucked under his head, elbow bent lazily, while the other rested on your hip. He still wore his protective glove. If he hadn’t, you knew what a single slip might mean.

A soft sound escaped your lips - something between a gasp and a whimper - as you shifted your legs, and that’s when you felt it. The unmistakable slickness between your thighs, sticky, cold and raw, made you freeze. The memories slammed into you like a tidal wave, fragments of last night piecing themselves together.

Hands - scarred, rough, and demanding - roaming over your plushy skin, leaving trails of bruises in their wake. Mouths pressed against yours, against your neck, your chest, your thighs, your pussy, taking and claiming every inch of you. The sound of low voices, rasping commands and dark praises that made your body shudder. Your skin still felt branded, marked by their touch, every nerve tingling as if it were reliving the night in flashes.

Shifting your hips again, the motion earned another quiet sound that you couldn’t suppress, and the arm wrapped around your waist tightened slightly in response. Dabi stirred, a low, guttural hum rumbling in his chest, his lips brushing faintly against the curve of your shoulder. His fingers flexed against your abdomen, pulling you closer with a lazy dominance that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Don’t start squirming unless you’re ready for round two,” came his voice, gravelly with sleep but still laced with that dark, teasing edge. He didn’t even open his eyes, his body already responding to the subtle movements of yours, hips rolling just enough to remind you exactly how tangled the three of you had been hours before.

On your other side, Tomura’s gloved fingers pressed lightly into your hip, his red eyes cracking open just enough to watch you through the veil of his lashes. A voice, dark and dripping with mockery, cut through the haze. "Oh, sweet thing, you’re finally awake.” Shigaraki slowly moved his hand up your body, caressing the curve of your waist and reaching your chin in the end. His thumb and index finger clamped around your chin, firm and unyielding, tilting your head with a deliberate force that left no room for resistance. "What a perfect morning for us, don’t you think, Dabi? I can’t fucking wait to ruin that pretty pussy of hers all over again. And don’t you even think about leaving us, Amoria. You’re ours, now and forever."

The club pulsed with heavy bass, each beat reverberating in your chest, and a thick haze of smoke clung to the air, a cocktail of cigarettes, weed, and cheap perfume mixing with the ever-present burn of alcohol. It was the kind of place you were warned to avoid, especially alone - one of those places where villains went to disappear, blend into the night like smoke.

But after tonight? Warnings didn’t mean much. The sting of a fresh breakup had driven you straight into the dark, to the kind of place that would swallow up your thoughts and leave you numb. No one you knew would set foot here, especially alone. The criminals and castaways who haunted these walls weren’t just rumors; they were way too real. But right now, you didn’t care.

Perched at the bar with one leg hooked over the other, a tight red dress hugging your figure, and a jet-black bag draped over your shoulder, you sipped slowly on something the bartender had called a Blood Moon. A wicked blend of dark rum, cherry liqueur, and a touch of grenadine, it tasted like rebellion in a glass, something that burned on the way down but left just enough sweetness behind to make you want more.

The air grew heavier, thick with tension, and it took you a minute to notice why.

High above on the VIP floor, two figures lounged in shadows. But it wasn’t the distance that made them unapproachable - it was who they were, and the weight of what they carried. They noticed you, of course. It was impossible not to feel their stares, the way they sized you up, cutting through the smoky air like blades.

Shigaraki stood above, leaning against the steel railing of the VIP lounge, his posture loose and almost bored. Dressed in a sleek, dark suit that clung to his wiry frame, he seemed a creature entirely his own, something both sharp and unsettling, his presence a chill running through the pulse of the club. His hands, resting on the railing, wore thin black gloves over two fingers on each hand - a careful precaution, one you didn’t want to dwell on. The other fingers tapped rhythmically against the metal, a steady, almost taunting beat.

Next to him, more menace than man, lounged Touya Todoroki - Dabi, though that name was practically useless now. His hair, white as death, fell messily over his eyes, but his gaze - heavy-lidded, cerulean gaze, bored directly into you. It was the kind of stare that looked through you, stripping you bare and seeing every lie, every flaw. Like he’d already decided exactly what to do with you. His white hair was catching the colored lights and casting strange shadows across his face. He wasn’t wearing a suit - of course he wasn’t. His choice of attire was as casual as it was provocative: a black, fitted, buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a mess of scars trailing up his forearms, and ripped jeans that sat low on his hips, held up by nothing more than a thick, black, leather belt.

Shigaraki’s eyes were assessing you as though deciding what to do with a curiosity he hadn’t planned on. Dabi’s smirk had a different edge - sharper, darker, a look that made your pulse spike in ways you’d never admit out loud. Whatever this was, it wasn’t simple curiosity.

There was no reason to be here. Nothing logical, anyway. The breakup had left you restless, something bitter and rebellious churning in your chest. Revenge on your ex? Maybe. A flirtation with something you shouldn’t have? Probably. Or maybe it was just the need to feel alive, if only for a night, surrounded by people who understood what it meant to live outside the law.

The bartender slid another drink in front of you - a Blow Job. Confused, you looked up. “I didn’t order this.”

He jerked his thumb toward the bar, where Dabi now stood, ordering a fresh bottle of whiskey. His eyes, that unmistakable blue, were locked on you. He didn’t bother looking away, just let his eyes roam over your body, slowly, deliberately, with an intensity that was anything but polite.

“Guess he did,” the bartender shrugged, turning away to tend to someone else.

Dabi raised his drink in your direction, smirk tugging at his scarred mouth, a silent invitation - or maybe a dare.

Dabi didn’t move at first, leaning casually against the bar, his smirk sharp as a knife. The bottle of whiskey dangled loosely from one hand, the other lifting his glass to his lips, eyes never leaving you. His gaze was a slow drag, deliberate, assessing. “Why don’t you come join us upstairs, princess?” His voice was low, gravelly, and loud enough to cut through the music. There was no question in the way he said it - more an invitation wrapped in a command, laced with an edge that made it clear he didn’t hear no very often.

Tilting your head, you gave him a once-over, matching his intensity with your own. “Not interested,” you said, your tone sharp, controlled. “I’m fine right here.”

The smirk widened, and he let out a short, amused laugh. “Yeah?” He leaned closer, setting the glass down on the bar with a sharp clink. “I don’t think you know what you’re turning down, sweetheart.”

Something in the way he said it sent a flicker of heat through you, but you held your ground, your leg crossing over the other as you turned back to your drink. “I’ve got all the excitement I need down here,” you said dryly, lifting your glass with a raised brow.

Dabi didn’t back off. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence radiating warmth that felt too intimate, too deliberate. He dipped his head slightly, his breath brushing your ear as he spoke, low and dangerous. “You shouldn’t play games with people like us. We don’t do soft. We don’t do fair.”

He wasn’t bluffing, and you knew it.

Straightening up, he looked at you again, letting his hand trail along the bar as he stepped back. “But if you’re really not interested…” His shrug was slow, his smirk still carved onto his face as though he knew exactly how this would end. “Suit yourself.”

You hated how your pulse quickened, hated the way the challenge lingered in the air between you. The words don’t do soft repeated in your head, pulling at the threads of your resolve. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the week you’d had, but before you could stop yourself, your feet were moving, heels clicking against the marble floor as you followed him.

He didn’t even check to see if you were coming. The bastard already knew.

The staircase was tucked into the far corner, shadowed and out of sight of most of the club.

Dabi’s shoulders led the way, the bottle swinging lazily in his grip as if he didn’t care that every eye on the dancefloor followed his movements. The music faded slightly as you ascended, but the air grew heavier, thicker, as though the space above carried its own gravity.

The VIP lounge was dimly lit, the low, amber light reflecting off a sleek, black leather couch where Shigaraki sat sprawled out, one leg hooked lazily over the other. His white hair fell messily over his forehead, a cigarette dangling between two fingers as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke. A lowball glass sat in his other hand, whiskey and ice swirling in lazy circles as he tilted it absentmindedly. His red eyes flicked up as you entered, sharp and cutting, taking you in with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

“Finally brought her up, huh?” His voice was smooth but tinged with that unmistakable edge of boredom, like he couldn’t care less, yet his eyes told a different story. They lingered on you a beat too long, assessing, weighing, before he took another drag from his cigarette.

Dabi shrugged, tossing himself into the opposite end of the couch. “Wasn’t easy,” he said, his smirk never wavering. “She’s got a mouth on her.”

Shigaraki’s lips twitched into something close to a grin, a humorless thing that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good. It’ll make things more interesting.”

You stood at the edge of the room, every instinct screaming at you to leave, but the weight of their gazes pinned you in place.

Dabi poured a generous amount of whiskey into his glass, then tilted the bottle toward the empty one next to Shigaraki’s. He didn’t ask if you wanted a drink; he poured you one anyway. “Sit,” Dabi growled, nodding toward the space between them on the couch, his voice casual, but there was a command in it that left no room for argument.

Shigaraki’s hand rested on the back of the couch, fingers drumming slowly against the leather as he watched you, waiting. “Unless you’re scared,” the white haired man said, his voice soft, almost mocking, a challenge hanging on every syllable.

Something in your chest tightened. Pride or stubbornness - maybe both - kept your feet moving until you lowered yourself onto the couch, your body painfully aware of the heat radiating from both sides. The glass of whiskey was pressed into your hand, Dabi’s long fingers brushing against yours as he handed it over.

“Good girl,” the leader of the League of Villains murmured, leaning back into the couch with a smirk that promised nothing about tonight would be soft.

The leather couch felt sinfully soft beneath you. You cradled the glass of whiskey in your hands.

The air in the room thickened like tar, suffocating and inescapable.

Shigaraki tilted his head, studying you with the same detached curiosity as a predator playing with its prey. His crimson gaze burned with an intensity that seemed to peel back your skin, exposing something raw and vulnerable beneath.

Your throat felt dry despite the whiskey still warming your hand. Steeling your nerves, you met his gaze head-on. “You’re the leader, right?” Your voice was steady, though you hated how breathless it sounded. “Why would someone like you want someone like me around?”

Shigaraki’s lips curled slowly, something far too knowing glimmering in his eyes. “Someone like you?” he repeated, voice smooth, low, and entirely dangerous. “You underestimate yourself.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearm on his knee, letting his fingers hang loosely, inches from where your thigh rested against the couch. Shigaraki chuckled, a low, dry sound that barely stirred the air. “Let’s say I’m a connoisseur of beauty.” His words were slow, deliberate. “And you,” he continued, letting his eyes drag down your frame in a way that felt like a physical touch, “look exquisite in that dress.”

Dabi snorted from the other end of the couch, his smirk widening as he poured himself another drink. “Connoisseur of beauty,” he repeated mockingly, shaking his head. “You’re so full of pretentious shit, boss.”

Shigaraki didn’t so much as glance at him, his focus locked entirely on you.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks despite yourself, and you took a longer sip of your drink, hoping it might disguise the faint blush.

Shigaraki noticed, of course — he didn’t miss much, apparently. His grin widened, a touch of smugness slipping into his expression.

"You're blushing, doll," Dabi pointed out bluntly, his voice dripping with mockery. "That’s fucking adorable."

Shigaraki, clearly entertained, shifted closer. His partially gloved hand reached out, resting lightly on your knee. "So," he drawled, his voice conversational, as though he weren’t sitting far too close for comfort, "what’s someone like you doing in a place like this? This isn’t exactly the scene for someone so soft."

You glanced at him, the faintest flicker of a challenge in your eyes. "What makes you think I’m soft?"

Shigaraki’s lips twitched into a smirk. "You don’t exactly scream villain." He tilted his head, studying you. "But you’ve got an edge. Something’s brought you here. What is it?"

The question lingered, heavy and probing.

You took a sip of the whiskey, its burn cutting through your nerves as you turned your attention to the man sprawled across from you. You exhaled, feeling the whiskey’s fire loosen your tongue. “My boyfriend cheated on me,” you confessed, bitter and sharp. “With someone I thought was my friend.” You exhaled slowly, setting your glass on the table as you straightened your shoulders. "So, here I am. Figured I might as well see how the other side lives."

Dabi let out a low, wry whistle. "Oh, the little doll has been hurt? How sad must be your life ever since!”

"Cheaters are the worst," Tomura stated matter-of-factly. "But that doesn’t explain why you’d come here of all places. This club isn’t exactly known for its wholesome clientele."

You shrugged, feeling the tension in the room shift slightly. "Maybe I wanted to see if there was anyone left in the world worse than him."

Dabi laughed, a dry, humorless sound that made the corners of his scarred mouth twist upward.

"Oh, sweetheart," Shigaraki started, his hand leaving your knee to retrieve his cigarette, "you definitely came to the right place." He took a slow drag, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. "But you might want to be careful. Looking for something sharp enough to make you feel again might be a risky move.”

Your breath hitched, but you clenched your jaw, refusing to break under his scrutiny. “Maybe,” you admitted, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “What does it matter to you?”

Tomura’s smirk widened, slow and predatory, as though he’d already won some unspoken game. “It matters because you walked into our world,” he murmured, voice dark as the shadows clinging to the room’s edges. “And I’m curious just how far you’re willing to fall.”

Dabi poured himself another drink, downed it, and set his glass down with a sharp clink. "We don’t fix broken things. We break them further."

His scarred hand lifted, fingers brushing along the curve of your jaw, his calloused thumb briefly rubbing against your lower lip before trailing to your neck, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His long fingers ghosted over your shoulder, where your pulse thudded traitorously fast. Dabi leaned in, inhaling deeply, as if memorizing your scent, the warmth of his breath searing against your skin. He stuck out his tongue and ran it up your pulsepoint.

A cold chill ran down your spine.

“Sweet,” the scarred man murmured, voice low and rough. “You smell so clean, so untouched.”

Shigaraki’s amusement flickered in the curve of his mouth as he reached for the whiskey bottle, pouring another drink for you. “Where do you work?” His tone was casual, but the underlying curiosity felt anything but.

You hesitated, weighing the danger of answering truthfully, but there was no point in lying. They’d sniff out deceit like blood in the water. “Endeavor’s agency,” you admitted carefully. “I handle paperwork.”

The moment the words left your lips, the atmosphere in the room shifted violently, like the air had been sucked from it.

Dabi’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of raw fury that turned his eyes into blazing shards of ice. His glass hit the nearest wall with a deafening crash, shards of crystal scattering across the floor. The amber liquid smeared down the wallpaper like a wound.

“Endeavor,” Dabi snarled, his voice venomous, the name leaving his lips like a curse. He surged to his feet, towering over you in an instant. “You work for that bastard, cunt?” Touya’s chest heaved, nostrils flaring as though he could still smell Endeavor’s presence clinging to you. The growl in his voice was feral, like a wildfire barely contained. He didn’t wait for an answer, his scarred hands twitching at his sides as if itching to burn something — or rather someone.

Instinct overrode reason, propelling a desperate retreat from the leather couch. The corner of the room felt like a safer haven. Your breath came in short, uneven bursts, heart pounding as you pressed yourself against the wall, putting as much distance as you could between yourself and the sheer force of his rage. “I… It’s nothing but a job… I need to pay rent, to pay bills… And he pays well…”

Tomura rose from his spot slowly, movements fluid and purposeful. He reached Dabi with unhurried ease, his touch strangely tender as his fingers brushed along the edges of that scarred jaw. “Touya.” His voice was soft yet commanding, laced with something purely intimate.

Dabi’s breath hitched but didn’t slow as his azure eyes were locked on your trembling form, fury still crackling beneath his skin like an electric wire.

Tomura’s fingers tightened, holding the other man in place — not restraining, but rather grounding. He tilted Dabi’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. “Look at me.” Shigaraki pressed a firm, grounding kiss against the jagged edge of Touya’s scarred jawline. “Breathe,” he murmured against the marred skin, voice softer now, a private thing not meant for anyone else’s ears. “And calm the fuck down.”

Shigaraki didn’t wait for any response from the scarred man. He yanked Dabi closer by the collar of his jacket, crashing their mouths together with bruising force.

A low, guttural sound escaped Dabi’s throat as Shigaraki bit down on his lower lip, dragging his teeth across scarred flesh in a way that was equal parts punishment and possession. Dabi hissed, but instead of pulling back, he leaned in harder, matching the intensity with reckless hunger. His fingers clawed into Shigaraki’s sides, pulling him closer, like he couldn’t bear the distance between them.

Their tongues danced together.

The sight was mesmerizing and intimate, enough to make your heart thud erratically against your ribcage. You watched, your mouth hanging open slightly, a realization dawning — they were a thing, unmistakably so, and they were unabashedly natural about their affection.

Shigaraki finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Dabi’s, murmuring something low you couldn’t hear.

“Better?” Shigaraki finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dabi exhaled shakily, his scarred lips quirking into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re such a bastard, boss,” he rasped, voice low but lacking any real venom. The tension in his frame eased.

Shigaraki finally turned his attention back to you, his expression calm, composed, as though nothing unusual had just happened. “Why don’t you take a seat over there, doll?” He gestured to a plush leather armchair nearby, his voice cool but not unkind. “Relax, and tell us a bit about your quirk. I’m curious about that part.”

You moved to the armchair, its soft leather embracing your form as you tried to compose yourself.

Dabi, his earlier fury now cooled, returned to his spot on the couch beside Shigaraki. Rather than pouring himself another drink, he simply grabbed the whiskey bottle, tilting it back for a long, hard swallow, his eyes never leaving your form.

Gathering your nerves, you began, "My quirk is called Amoria," you uttered, your voice steady despite the swirling emotions. "When I kiss someone, I can amplify their quirks, enhancing their abilities beyond their usual limits for a couple of minutes.. And if I am in love with that person, the effect is not only stronger but lasts longer, too."

Dabi set the bottle down with a thud, a smirk playing on his lips, while Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You might actually be more useful than I initially thought,” Dabi remarked, grinning. There was no warmth in his smile, only a sardonic twist of his lips that suggested he saw you not as a person but as a potential tool to be exploited. "Especially with a quirk like that."

Shigaraki, who had been quietly observing the exchange, perked up with a renewed interest that bordered on avid fascination. "I think we need to test this power of yours," Tomura declared, a hint of excitement threading through his usually calm demeanor.

Your heart skipped a beat at the directness of his demand. The thought of kissing Shigaraki, of being so close to someone so dangerously powerful, sent a shiver of fear mixed with a disgust down your spine. You hesitated, your instincts screaming for caution You shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, the weight of their gazes making you feel exposed and vulnerable. "I — I'd rather not," you stammered, trying to muster your courage to deny him.

Shigaraki’s expression darkened at your reluctance. He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper that somehow filled the entire room. “Don’t make me regret my curiosity,” he said, his words carrying a sweet venom. “It would be a shame to have to disintegrate you for withholding such a valuable demonstration.”

The threat, veiled in a veneer of charm, was clear. Swallowing hard, you realized that your options were few and your situation precarious.

With a heavy heart and mind racing with anxious thoughts, you stood from the armchair and approached Shigaraki and Dabi, the tension palpable.

Shigaraki's gaze was fixed, predatory, as he watched you come closer. In a swift motion, he reached out and grasped your wrist, pulling you towards him with an unexpected force.

Caught off balance, your only options were to awkwardly straddle his lap or risk tumbling to the floor. Choosing the former, you settled uneasily atop him, feeling his hands begin a slow, almost explorative motion up and down your waist. His touch was paradoxically gentle, fingers tracing the fabric of your dress as he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent with an almost reverent curiosity. His chapped lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto yours with a piercing intensity.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, Shigaraki moved his gloved hand to your neck, guiding you down into a kiss. His lips were rough, tasting strongly of whiskey and cigarettes.

As the kiss deepened, a faint glowing aura began to radiate around you, the visual manifestation of your quirk activating under the intimate contact.

Tomura shifted beneath you, his hands moving to your back to pull you closer, an unspoken demand for more of the power you were unwittingly amplifying. Shigaraki could feel the raw power filling his veins with a raw, unnatural power, every cell in his body seeming to awaken with renewed vigor.

When he finally broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva connected you momentarily, and you whined at the loss of contact.

Shigaraki's breath was heavy, his eyes alight with a wild sort of exhilaration. "Fuuuck. I've never felt so powerful before," he confessed, his voice hoarse with wonder. He turned to Dabi, his expression one of awe mixed with a fierce triumph. "Not even after months in that tube at the doctor's hideout when I was getting boosted. This is fucking incredible."

"Come here," Shigaraki panted, voice low, roughened by desire and authority. There was no room for disobedience, no chance to escape. His fingertips pressed into the soft curve of your waist, sliding possessively up and down your sides, mapping every inch of skin through the thin fabric of your dress. “Kiss me again,” the leader of the League of Villains demanded, the edge in his voice razor-sharp, leaving no space for refusal. The implied threat lingered, dangerous and undeniable — you knew exactly what he was capable of. One wrong move, one hint of defiance, and he could end you with the barest touch.

So you leaned in for a kiss.

His mouth crushed against yours, demanding everything. He groaned against your mouth, low and guttural, his body rigid with restraint he was quickly losing. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, sharp and possessive. He never knew someone else’s spit could taste that good. His crimson eyes burned with violent need, pupils blown wide with lust.

Your head spun, breath stolen as his tongue delved deeper, tangling with yours in a battle for control you’d already lost. You gasped against his mouth when his grip on your hips tightened, pressing you down against the hard, unmistakable evidence of his arousal straining beneath his suit pants.

Shit. You were completely, utterly fucked.

A sharp, irritated growl suddenly shattered the charged atmosphere.

Touya's jaw clenched as he watched Shigaraki’s hands roam possessively over your body, his fingers digging into your waist like he owned you. The sight clearly infuriated the scarred man.

Shigaraki didn’t loosen his grip on you, his crimson gaze flicking lazily toward Dabi without a shred of concern. “Don’t forget who the boss is.”

“Thought we were sharing,” Dabi drawled, voice low and threatening. “Didn’t think you’d keep all the fun for yourself, boss.” Dabi yanked you off Shigaraki and forced you to straddle his lap. His kiss was brutal — searing and unforgiving, all teeth and tongue, like he was determined to brand himself into you.

Suddenly, a heat exploded where his fingers dug into your waist, the surge of your quirk sparking to life as your mouths tangled together. You felt it hit him — a sudden, visceral rush of boosted power crackling beneath his skin like wildfire.

Dabi broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, his pupils blown wide with lust and power. “Fuck,” he rasped, eyes blazing like molten fire. “Fucking amazing.”

Before you could answer, a sharp snarl tore from Shigaraki’s throat. He was on you in an instant. “She’s fucking mine, Touya,” Tomura snapped, voice low and deadly, every syllable dripping with dangerous intent.

Before you could even steady yourself, Shigaraki yanked you back into his lap with brutal force, his fingers digging possessively into your thighs. You gasped, hands bracing against his chest as he hauled you close, locking you in place.

His tongue forced its way past your lips again, demanding dominance.

You had no room to resist — not with the way his hips rolled beneath you. You whimpered against his mouth as he rocked his hips into yours again, letting you feel just how hard he was beneath the rough fabric of his pants. The friction was intoxicating, setting every nerve alight with white-hot need. And you discovered you weren’t scared anymore.

Shigaraki broke the kiss just long enough to rasp, "I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard, doll." His voice was raw, wrecked with desire and possessive rage, leaving no room for interpretation. His red eyes gleamed with dark intent, lips twisted into something between a snarl and a smirk.

Your breath hitched, shock and adrenaline colliding in your chest. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think — trapped between two villains driven by lust, power, and an insatiable need to claim what they thought was theirs.

Dabi wiped his mouth with the back of his scarred hand, eyes still blazing with want and jealousy. His tongue flicked over his lower lip, tasting the remnants of your saliva as his gaze snapped to where you were pinned on Shigaraki’s lap, bodies tangled in a possessive, desperate clash of dominance and need. “Oh, so now you get greedy, huh?” Dabi sneered, his scarred lips curling into a mocking smirk. “You’re not the only one who wants a piece of her, Shiggy.” His eyes flicked to yours, sharp and filled with something feral, before settling back on Tomura. “I think I deserve a turn with that little whore after that little taste.”

“Hey, I’m not a whore!” You protested with furrowed brows.

“Oi! Shut the fuck up,” Touya replied dismissively.

Tomura’s hand sneaked under the edge of your tight dress, boldly rubbing against your clothed pussy. You were oh so hot down there.

You parted your lips, letting out a cute moan as you shivered.

Dabi’s jaw clenched, anger flickering hotly behind his eyes. He tilted his head, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face as he dragged his gaze down your trembling form. “C’mon, boss.” His voice dipped lower, almost coaxing but still dangerous. “You really wanna share her here? In this shitty club, with all these useless extras nearby?” His tongue flicked over his bottom lip as his gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “We could take her back to the hideout. Somewhere private.”

Shigaraki’s lips twisted into a grin, sharp and predatory. He looked at you, tilting your chin up with a single finger, forcing you to meet his unrelenting gaze. “What do you say, sweetheart?” His voice dripped with mock sweetness, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a way that made you shiver. “Hope you are ready to come with us.”

You couldn’t speak, your throat tightening as their intentions became horrifyingly clear, so you just shook your head.

Shigaraki sighed and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “I wasn’t fucking asking.”

Before you could even process the command, Dabi was already moving, improving his leather jacket. His gaze lingered on you, sharp and hungry. “Move your ass,” he warned, his voice a dangerous purr. “We don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Shigaraki’s hand trailed down your waist, tugging you off his lap with rough impatience as he rose to his feet. His fingers never left your body, keeping you tethered to him like a prize he’d already claimed.

Your heart pounded in your chest as they guided you toward the club’s shadowed back exit, Dabi’s molten gaze burning into your back while Shigaraki’s hand stayed possessively firm around your waist.

There was no escape.

And the most terrifying truth was that, deep down, a part of you didn’t want to escape at all.

Your body trembled as you were bent over the edge of the bed, completely naked — exposed and pliant, just the way they liked.

The sheets bunched beneath your hands as you braced yourself, trying to focus — trying to breathe — but it was impossible with Dabi lounging lazily in front of you.

His scarred back pressed into the mattress, one arm propped behind his head as he gazed at you through half-lidded eyes, utterly at ease. His cock, flushed and hard, rested against his stomach as he watched you.

“Come on, don’t get shy now,” Dabi murmured, his gravelly voice a mixture of teasing and condescension. His thumb traced your bottom lip briefly before guiding himself into the warm heat of your mouth.

Your tongue welcomed him, slick and obedient, and he groaned lowly, his hips rocking just enough to force you to take him deeper.

Touya hissed through his teeth, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head. “That’s it. Good girl.”

The sound of his pleasure reverberated through you, but your focus shattered when a new sensation made itself known — a hot, slick pressure against your folds. Your thighs twitched as the sensation grew bolder — tracing the curve of your pussy lips before pushing past them.

A muffled whine vibrated around Dabi’s length, and you instinctively arched. With a sharp pop, you pulled off Dabi’s cock, saliva trailing from the corner of your mouth as you gasped for air and moaned shamelessly. Your voice wavered with desperation as you glanced over your shoulder.

There he was — Shigaraki, kneeling between your spread legs, his crimson gaze half-lidded and focused solely on you. “Stop fucking squirming,” he rasped impatiently, giving your cheek a hard spank, his voice raw and hungry. His calloused fingers spread your ass cheeks wide, holding you open for his eager mouth. The drag of his tongue from your soaked entrance to your clit sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, and your knee buckled.

Your mouth formed a large “O”, and a tear threatened to roll down your cheek.

“Tsk. Pathetic,” Dabi scoffed from in front of you.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he delivered a stinging slap to your cheek. Your head snapped back, and your wide, tear-glazed eyes met his.

“There we go,” he smirked, clearly pleased to have your full attention again. Slowly, almost deliberately, Dabi ran his hand over his throbbing cock, his skin glistening with the remnants of your spit. He stroked himself lazily, letting you watch every movement, every twitch of his muscles. “I didn’t say you could stop, doll.”

He tapped the head of his cock against your lips, and of course you accepted him in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, up and down, gently flexing your tongue to tease the massive vein located underneath his cock. A tear finally escaped your eye.

Dabi clicked his tongue, his hand tangling into your hair before giving a sharp tug that forced you off him with an audible pop. Your lips parted, spit trailing down and on his thigh as you looked up at him, dazed and desperate. “You’re pathetic, you know that, whore?” he taunted, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, teasing himself while spreading your saliva all over his shaft. “Can’t even handle both of us, huh?”

“I am… Not a whore,” you reminded him, slowly opening your mouth to moan loudly as Tomura spanked your ass a few more times.

Behind you, Shigaraki groaned impatiently. “Stop hogging her attention,” he rasped, his voice rough with want. Without waiting, he buried his face between your legs again, his tongue flicking messily over your swollen clit before dragging back down to your slick entrance.

“Shit— Tomura…” you gasped, your back arching instinctively as you ground your pussy against his face. “Just like that.”

“Focus,” Dabi growled from above, snapping his fingers to reclaim your gaze.

Your eyes darted back to him, your face still flushed and your lips glistening.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, that sadistic little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You nodded and wrapped your lips around his shaft again. You pushed your mouth down his shaft until you felt his white, pubic hair that surrounded his cock tickle your nose. While you were sucking Dabi's cock, doing your best to make him satisfied with your efforts, your hand instinctively drifted down between your trembling thighs, fingers seeking relief. Just as you brushed against your slick folds, a rough, calloused hand snatched your wrist, shoving it away.

“Don’t,” Shigaraki growled, his voice a low, dangerous rasp that sent a shiver up your spine.

Before you could protest, his hands gripped your hips, spreading your ass cheeks apart until your pussy was exposed, open, and vulnerable to him. You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on you.

Shigaraki’s tongue teased the sensitive edges of your entrance slowly, circling in a way that made your thighs tremble. Then, without warning, he pushed in, his tongue slipping into your tight hole, wet and insistent.

The sensation sent white-hot pleasure through you, a sharp, helpless moan tearing from your throat as you arched beneath his touch. Spit spilled from corners of your mouth, dripping on Touya’s thighs.

Dabi’s cock twitched against your tongue at the sight, his grip tightening in your hair. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough with amusement. “You really are a mess, aren’t you?”

Behind you, Shigaraki decided to shove your thigh up, pressing your knee onto the edge of the bed to grant himself full, unhindered access. His mouth returned to your pussy, more frantic this time — his tongue working in desperate, messy licks as if he were starved for the taste of you.

Between Dabi’s demanding gaze and his cock successfully suffocating you, and Shigaraki’s relentless tongue attacking you from behind, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped your lips.

“That’s more like it,” Dabi praised mockingly, his smile turning cruel as he watched you unravel.

Shigaraki let out a low, pleased hum, his face buried between your thighs yet again. “She’s close,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his nails digging lightly into your flesh as he kept you exactly where he wanted you while he fucked you with his long, skilled tongue.

“Better not pass out yet,” Dabi added, his voice a wicked purr as he delivered a few hard slaps to your face. “We’re just getting started.”

You pulled off Dabi’s cock with a gasp, your chest heaving as you desperately sucked in air between moans. Your lips were swollen, glistening with spit.

Dabi growled low in his throat, a dangerous sound that made your core tighten. His scarred hand curled around the base of his cock, dragging the flushed, leaking head down the side of your face, smearing it across your heated skin before settling it against your parted lips.

“Don’t get lazy on me now,” he warned, voice gravelly with irritation.

Your tongue darted out instinctively, flicking teasingly over his tip as he groaned softly in response. You played with him, swirling your tongue around the angry red head before slowly wrapping your lips around him again. You moaned, your eyelids fluttering in bliss. Inch by inch, you pushed him deeper into your mouth, sucking greedily until you took as much as you could manage, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, making you gag each time.

Your lips stretched tight around his veiny girth, and you began moving in earnest, bobbing your head forward and back, each bounce deliberate and needy. One of your hands reached to cup and fondle his balls gently, coaxing soft curses from his lips, while the other steadied yourself on his shredded thigh.

Dabi hissed between gritted teeth, his cock twitching angrily in your mouth, pulsing in warning as he grew closer to his release.

Then Shigaraki joined in.

You gasped softly when you felt his fingers slide into your slick pussy from behind, curling just right as they pressed against your walls. He didn’t stop there, though — his mouth returned to you, tongue swirling over your folds in tandem with his digits. Your knees nearly buckled from the dual sensations, but you didn’t falter.

If anything, you grew more relentless.

You let your spit spill messily. Your hair was tangled, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears as you worked him harder, sucking him down greedily. You didn’t care how fucked out you looked. It didn’t matter after all.

“Fuck—” Dabi hissed, his voice shaky now, his composure cracking. His hand fisted into your hair, tugging hard enough to make your scalp sting. He bucked his hips into your mouth with wild desperation, chasing his release. “That’s it, you little slut,” he grunted through clenched teeth, his voice rough and broken. With one final thrust, he pressed your face flush against his pubic bone, holding you there as he came. His cock twitched violently, spilling hot, thick ropes of cum down your throat in short, jerky spurts.

You moaned around him, the vibrations sending another shiver through his overstimulated body as he groaned loudly, rolling his head back against the pillow. His grip on your hair loosened just slightly, and when you pulled back, your mouth was still full of his seed.

Dabi cracked open one eye, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked down at you. “Don’t swallow yet,” he ordered, his voice strained but firm.

You stared up at him, cheeks puffed slightly and tongue cradling his release as you awaited his next command, your body trembling while Shigaraki’s relentless ministrations continued behind you. You could only whine in a strange voice as you didn’t want to spill a single drop of Dabi’s cum.

Shigaraki's tongue and fingers worked you over relentlessly, a maddening rhythm of teasing and torment. He slipped two fingers inside you with an ease that made you shiver, his knuckles pressing against your entrance as he angled his head just right. His tongue flicked purposefully over the swollen bundle of nerves, the sensation sharp and consuming.

Your thighs trembled again, threatening to buckle, but Shigaraki’s grip held you firm, forcing you to take it all.

“Open up.”

Dabi’s voice cut through the haze, a low, commanding drawl that demanded your focus. Propped casually on his elbow where he lay, he watched you with narrowed, calculating eyes.

You obeyed without hesitation, your lips parting, tongue sticking out just enough to display the evidence of your submission — his seed still cradled there.

A faint hum of satisfaction vibrated from Dabi’s throat. “Look at you,” he murmured, his scarred hand reaching out to stroke your cheek in a gesture that was far too gentle given the situation. The warmth of his palm lingered as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head upward with effortless control.

“Been such a good girl for us,” he praised, his tone soft but tinged with that edge of condescension that made your stomach tighten. He pushed himself up onto his knees, his presence now towering over you as he gazed down at your wrecked expression. The grin that stretched across his face was wild and possessive, a cruel glint in his pale eyes as he leaned in closer. “Open wide,” he mused, and you could do nothing but obey, your mouth parting further at his demand.

Dabi held your gaze as he spat, the slow descent of a globe of his saliva deliberate. It landed messily on your upper lip, the warmth of it pooling before sliding down into your waiting mouth, mingling with his cum and your own lingering spit. Your breath hitched as you felt your pride stripped away.

“Now, you can swallow,” he ordered softly, his voice dripping with twisted satisfaction.

You did, your throat working as you obeyed, your gaze never leaving his. The desperation in your eyes only seemed to amuse him more, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw in reward as you blinked up at him.

It was then that Shigaraki’s fingers curled inside you, finding that perfect spongy spot deep within. Your body tensed, a loud, broken whine escaping your lips as your walls spasmed around his digits, your release crashing over you in uncontrollable waves. Shigaraki’s tongue stayed firm against your clit, drawing out every last tremor as you came apart.

You couldn’t stop the shy, breathy whimper that left you as your body sagged slightly, your face flushed in embarrassment.

Shigaraki pulled back just enough to growl lowly against you, the vibration sending another spark of sensitivity through your core as you cleaned your folds from remnants of your release. “Good girl,” the man praised, his voice rough and husky with satisfaction.

Dabi chuckled darkly from above you, thumb tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze again. “Don’t get all shy on us now,” he teased, his smile sharp and devilish. “You’re doing so well.”

Shigaraki’s gloved hand — slick with your cum — wrapped firmly around your chin, tilting your head up until you were forced to meet his eyes. His crimson eyes burned into yours before he leaned in, claiming your mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. He groaned as his tongue pushed past your lips, eager, desperate to taste the remnants of Dabi’s cum still coating your tongue.

The moment his mouth met yours, your quirk activated instinctively. A faint aura bloomed around you, light and humming with energy, sending a ripple of warmth through the air.

Shigaraki growled deep in his throat, his entire body tensing as the surge hit him, spreading like wildfire through his cells. The sound was guttural, animalistic, as if he’d been jolted alive. “Fuck—” he hissed, his lips leaving yours briefly as he shivered from the rush.

“Tsk,” Dabi chuckled, the sound low and smug as he took advantage of Shigaraki’s distraction. Dabi’s scarred hand wrapped around Tomura’s cock. His hand pumped slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb brushing against the sensitive head just to coax a sharp gasp from his boyfriend’s lips. “Relax, hothead. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Your lips were abandoned as Shigaraki’s focus faltered completely, his attention turning to Dabi with a heated glare. “Ugly bastard,” Tomura rasped, though the way his hips bucked into Dabi’s hand betrayed just how easily he was unraveling.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dabi murmured smugly, his voice a soft purr. With a rough tug and a smirk, he pulled Shigaraki into a kiss that left you breathless just from watching. Their lips met in a clash of teeth and tongues, Dabi’s dominance clear as he guided Shigaraki back onto the bed with ease. Tomura didn’t resist; he let Dabi push him down, his white hair splayed like a halo on the sheets.

Dabi settled between Tomura’s thighs, his sharp grin softening into something dangerously wicked as he ducked his head. Without preamble, his mouth wrapped around Shigaraki’s cock, and Tomura let out a broken groan, his back arching off the bed.

“Fucking hell, Touya…” Tomura rasped, one hand flying to Dabi’s white hair, gripping tight.

You were left kneeling at the edge, forgotten, stripped of their attention. A needy whine escaped you before you could stop it, the ache between your legs too much to ignore. Frustration flared hot in your chest, but you couldn’t look away from the sight in front of you — Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains, wrecked and trembling under Todoroki’s mouth, and Dabi himself, so smug and methodical as he sucked his boyfriend off.

“Assholes,” you muttered under your breath, though your voice lacked any real venom. Giving in, your hand drifted down between your thighs, your fingers brushing over your slick folds. A sharp inhale left you as you began to rub lazy, teasing circles against your clit, your gaze fixed on them as if the sight alone might bring you release.

There was something maddeningly hot about the way Dabi could so easily dominate Shigaraki — about how quickly the sharp edges of the most powerful man softened under Touya’s touch.

How the hell had it come to this? You barely remembered. The whiskey at the club burned as it came back to you, their teasing words, the way Dabi and Shiggy had leaned close to murmur threats into your ear if you didn’t follow them. A shiver ran through you at the memory, though whether it was fear or excitement, you couldn’t tell.

What you did know was that this — this night, this wild chaos — was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was raw and humiliating, your body used and claimed by two men who couldn’t care less about your dignity. And yet, you were dripping for them, your fingers already working faster as you squirmed on the bed, watching the two men you couldn’t get enough of.

Your body quivered, breath ragged as you bit your lip, already desperate for more. One thing was certain: you didn’t care how you ended up here. All you could think about was how much you wanted them inside you — both of them — until you forgot your own name.

And judging by the way Dabi’s eyes flicked toward you, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face as he pulled off Shigaraki’s cock with a sinful pop, they weren’t done with you yet. “Look at her,” Dabi drawled, voice thick with amusement as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Couldn’t handle being left alone for five minutes. Such a needy little shit.”

Shigaraki’s head lolled to the side, his crimson eyes barely focused but sharp enough to catch the way your fingers moved between your thighs. “So fucking needy.”

Dabi grinned and pushed Shiggy’s cock past his lips again. Dabi worked Shigaraki’s cock with an eager, unrelenting rhythm, his mouth gliding along the length in sloppy, wet strokes that filled the room with the most obscene, filthy sounds you’d ever heard. His lips stretched wide, dragging over every vein, his tongue teasing mercilessly as he sucked in earnest, loud and unapologetic, his turquoise eyes never left Shigaraki’s face.

With a sharp pop, Dabi pulled off, a strand of saliva connecting his lips to Shigaraki’s throbbing shaft. He tilted his head, eyes glinting, before he tilted his mouth horizontally, wrapping his lips along the sensitive side of Shigaraki’s cock. His movements turned fast — up and down, slicking him completely with spit that glistened in the dim light of the room.

“Fuck—” Shigaraki hissed, his voice cracking with the effort to keep his composure, but Dabi wasn’t done. He slid further down, taking one of Shigaraki’s balls into his mouth, sucking and rolling it against his tongue, his hands working the rest of his boyfriend’s shaft in time with his mouth.

The control didn’t last long. Shigaraki’s breaths turned ragged, his hips twitching with the need to chase release, and within seconds, he snapped — his cock jerking in Dabi’s hand as he came, hard and sudden.

Thick ropes of cum spurted forward, hitting Dabi’s face in messy streaks.

Shigaraki groaned through gritted teeth, his body trembling as the last of his release spattered across Dabi’s scarred chin and nose.

Touya sat back slowly, his expression smug as he swiped his tongue across his lip, unbothered by the mess dripping down his face. “Didn’t think you’d lose it that fast, Shig,” he mused, his tone laced with a teasing drawl. “Guess I’m just that good, huh?”

Shigaraki’s red eyes burned into him, his breath still heavy as he scowled faintly. “Shut up, Todoroki.”

Dabi just grinned, licking his fingers clean as he savored every last drop of Tomura’s cum. “Whatever you say, boss.”

It was when their attention returned to you.

“You should fuck her,” Touya pointed out, glaring at Shigaraki, his tone lazy yet deliberate, as if offering the most obvious suggestion in the world. “Look at her — she’s trembling. Can’t fucking wait to have her needy little cunt stuffed full of your dick.”

Shigaraki shivered at the words, his red eyes darkening as he raked his gaze over you. A shudder ran through his body, his voice a breathless rasp as he muttered, “I’m overstimulated. You go first. It’ll be even better when I take her after you’ve filled her needy cunt with your hot cum.”

The way they spoke about you, as if you weren’t even there — like you were some object to pass between them — made your stomach twist and a shiver race down your spine. You clenched your thighs instinctively, but the heat pooling low in your belly was unstoppable.

Dabi, lying back next to Shigaraki on the bed, gestured lazily with two fingers. “C’mere, whore. Straddle me.”

“I’m not a whore,” you reminded him once again with a frown crossing your forehead. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Todoroki growled back.

The command was all you needed, your body moving instinctively to obey. You climbed over him, settling your knees on either side of his hips, your trembling hands already reaching for his cock. He was rock hard again, pulsing and ready for you, and you dragged him along your slit, teasing both yourself and him as the head of his cock glided through your slick folds.

Dabi’s patience, however, was notoriously thin. His large hands suddenly gripped your waist, and before you could react, he pushed you down onto him with one firm thrust.

You cried out as he impaled you, the stretch of his cock filling you completely and stealing the air from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet and tight,” Touya growled, his voice low and guttural as his fingers dug into your flesh. His hips shifted slightly, grinding into you to pull another broken moan from your lips. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”

Above him, you clung to his chest, nails scraping lightly over the healthy patches of skin as your body adjusted to the sudden fullness.

Dabi didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath though; his hips rolled beneath you with slow, intentional force, and the pressure made your head spin.

“Don’t stop,” Shigaraki muttered, his voice strained as he watched you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Keep going. I want to see her fall apart on you before I take my turn.” The man of course was jerking himself.

Dabi’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes gleaming with that signature cruelty as he tilted his head to look up at you. “Hear that, doll? You’d better give us a good show.”

His hips snapped up suddenly, and you cried out again, the room filling with the sound of skin meeting skin and the broken moans spilling uncontrollably from your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back toward the ceiling as Touya’s hands worked over you, rough and greedy. His scarred fingers pinched and kneaded your breasts, each tug on your sensitive nipples sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His heated gaze stayed fixed on you — on the slow, mesmerizing roll of your hips as you started grinding your pelvis against him, dragging your slick pussy over the massive length of his cock.

“Fuck, just like that,” Touya praised, his voice gravelly and strained, though he made no move to stop you. His cock pressed against your entrance, teasing you, every shift of your hips making him twitch and pulse in response.

A pure bliss overtook your features.

When you placed your hands flat on his scarred chest, steadying yourself, he let you take control, his pale cerulean eyes narrowing with dark satisfaction.

You began to move faster — hips gliding forward and back, dragging his thick cock up through your folds, almost slipping it out before grinding back down to bury him deep inside you. The friction burned deliciously, and the sound of his low groans only spurred you on.

Opening your eyes, you locked gazes with him as you picked up the pace, your movements sharp and purposeful. Without breaking a sweat, you rode him hard — bouncing on his cock with quick, fluid movements that had him pressing deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you over and over again. The mattress beneath you creaked in protest.

Touya’s lips curled into a wicked grin, clearly pleased with your display, but he was never one to let you feel too triumphant. With a sudden shift, he reached up and wrapped one large, scarred hand around your throat. His grip was firm — tight enough to steal a fraction of your air, to make you lightheaded and needy as his rough thumb pressed against your pulse point. “Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, voice low and dark, his eyes drinking in every reaction you gave him.

Your whine came out broken and pitiful, a sound that only spurred you to ride him faster, harder, your body slamming down onto his cock with a desperation that left you trembling. You knew you had to work hard to be able to breathe again.

Before you could think, another touch joined the chaos. From the side, Shigaraki’s pale fingers pressed roughly against your clit. He rubbed in firm, purposeful circles, coaxing you closer to the edge before landing a few sharp slaps to your sensitive, swollen bud.

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki muttered, his voice gruff and mocking. He trailed his fingers lower, gathering the juices that had spilled out of you, smirking as he scooped up some of it. With a satisfied hum, he sat back slightly, spreading the slick over his cock with slow, intended movements. His hand glided easily along the long length of his shaft now, each stroke lazy as he watched you. “Make him cum in your cunt finally.”

Dabi’s grip on your throat finally loosened, though the sight of you gasping for air, eyes glazed and lips parted, was enough to make his cock twitch. As much as he loved watching you struggle, he didn’t want to break his favorite toy.

“Fuck, you’re a mess,” he uttered, a dark smirk curling his lips as one scarred hand slid up to cradle your cheek. His other arm snaked around your lower back, locking you against him with ease. Before you could catch your breath, he drove his hips up sharply, forcing you to cry out as his thick cock filled your aching pussy to the brim. “Feel that?” Dabi taunted, his voice low and teasing as he set a ruthless rhythm.

Your body rocked with each brutal thrust, the sound of his balls slapping against you echoing obscenely through the room. “Tight, little thing can barely take me.”

Your mouth fell open reflexively, head lolling back as the relentless pace had you seeing stars.

Dabi’s grip on you tightened as his thrusts grew sharper, harder, forcing you to take every inch of him. Sweat began to bead along both your bodies, the heat of it all adding to the haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

Then he shifted, pulling you down until your chest met his, your chin resting over his scarred shoulder. Both of his arms caged you in, holding you flush to him as his hips began pounding up at an impossible speed.

Your breath came out in ragged pants directly into his ear, your whines growing louder, more desperate. “Ahh— Touya… I’m gonna—” you whimpered, voice trembling as your entire body started to quake. “I’m gonna—”

“Cum,” he growled into your ear, his teeth nibbling on your earlobe as his hips snapped upward mercilessly.

With a sharp gasp, you came undone, a broken moan ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched down around him, milking his cock with every pulse of your release. You lolled your head back to lower it and rest your forehead against the crook of his neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god, yes!” You cried, the words dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan as waves of pleasure crashed over your being.

Dabi hissed through his teeth, sweat dripping down his temple as he fucked you through your orgasm, refusing to let go. The slick, obscene sounds of skin meeting skin grew louder, wetter, as he chased his high.

And then it happened — your body, overstimulated and writhing, couldn’t hold back anymore. You screamed his name as you squirted, a torrent of juices splashing over Dabi’s abs and thighs.

“Fuck! Look at you,” Dabi chuckled darkly, his voice strained as he watched you, his teeth clenched hard. He delivered a sharp slap to your cheek, the sting sending a jolt through your already-sensitive body. “Dirty little whore. Look what you’ve done.”

With a final, deep thrust, his cock twitched violently inside you, and he let out a guttural groan as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled into your soaked pussy, the sensation making you shudder, trembling from head to toe as you wrapped your arm around his neck, hugging him as tightly as you could.

For a moment, you waited for him to push you off — but he didn’t.

Instead, Dabi’s arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you closer as he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple. “You did oh so well, doll.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Shigaraki’s gravelly voice broke the moment. “My turn.”

Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up, Dabi’s hands steadying you as you moved. His release, mixed with yours, dripped shamelessly down your inner thighs and onto the sheets, staining them in messy evidence of your debauchery.

“On all fours,” Shigaraki ordered coldly.

Your body obeyed instinctively, trembling slightly as you got into position. Shigaraki knelt behind you, his pale hands spreading the cheeks of your ass as his crimson eyes drank in the view of your pussy entrance clenching around nothing, missing the contact. With a low curse, he spat directly onto the valley between your cheeks, watching the saliva trail down over your puckered hole and toward your slick, used entrance.

“Stay still,” Tomura warned, the tip of his cock sliding through the mess he’d created. He dragged it deliberately, spreading the wetness across both openings before aligning himself. Without another word, he pushed in, forcing his length into your soaked cunt in one slow, steady stroke. “Fuck! So warm,” he applauded, his voice heavy with hunger as he sank his cock to the hilt. “And still so fucking tight. C’mere,” Shigaraki called, turning his head to Dabi, who was still sprawled beside you, watching the scene with an air of smug satisfaction.

Touya didn’t hesitate, moving closer as Shigaraki grabbed his jaw roughly and tilted his head, pulling the scarred man into a messy, sloppy kiss.

Dabi growled against Tomura’s mouth but let him take control.

Their tongues clashed, heated and unrestrained, while Shigaraki’s hips slammed into you from behind. The combined sound of their heavy breathing, and the wet slap of Shigaraki’s thrusts filled the room entirely.

Your body rocked forward under Shigaraki’s relentless pace. You sneaked a hand between your trembling thighs to rub your clitoris and move your fingers further to spread your entrance more. The feeling was deliciously good, and you moaned like a whore when your pussy clenched fitfully.

“Shit,” Shigaraki rasped, breaking the kiss long enough to groan, “you’re gonna squeeze me dry if you keep that up.” Tomura’s gloved hand tangled into your hair, tugging harshly and smashing your head down onto the mattress. The movement was rough, his grip unyielding as he bent you forward to angle himself deeper inside you.

A strangled gasp left your lips, your body arching instinctively as he adjusted his stance, burying his cock to the hilt with a single thrust.

Smack.

The sound echoed through the room as his palm connected with the curve of your ass, the sharp sting blooming into warmth almost instantly. “Stay still,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and low. Red prints of his hands marked your skin, glowing against your plushy flesh.

You cried out, fists clenching tightly into the sheets as Tomura gripped your waist, holding you in place. His thrusts grew brutal and relentless, hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that bordered on feral. Each movement dragged him against every ridge of your walls, your pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock, the friction overwhelming.

Tomura’s gaze dropped to where your ass pressed back against him, mesmerized by the way your body swallowed him whole. The tremors that coursed through you only spurred him on, his cock throbbing as he leaned forward. His mouth found your neck, trailing hot, sloppy kisses between your shoulder blades and up behind your ear.

His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, and within moments, you felt the twitch of his cock inside you. Tomura groaned, pulling out abruptly, the tip of his length gleaming and oozing precum. “Suck,” Shigaraki ordered, voice sharp but breathless as he looked at Dabi.

Touya — who’d been lounging with that ever-present, pervert smirk — sat up at the command, eyes flicking to you before sliding to Tomura’s dick. Without protest, Dabi knelt and leaned forward, wrapping his lips around Tomura’s leaking cock with deliberate ease.

Tomura’s head fell back briefly, a hiss escaping his lips.

While Dabi worked his boyfriend, his hand snaked between your legs, two long fingers sinking into your soaked cunt. His digits thrust into you with a lazy, calculated pace at first, the slick sound of your arousal driving him wild. The movement of his hand sent splashes of your wetness dripping onto the sheets below, a testament to just how far gone you were.

It didn’t take long for Tomura to lose patience. His hand shot to Dabi’s hair, yanking him off his cock with a wet pop. “Enough,” the leader growled, before guiding himself back into you with a single, unforgiving thrust. The force knocked the breath from your lungs as he picked up a wild, punishing pace.

Your body trembled beneath him, overstimulated and unable to do anything but take what he gave you.

Tomura’s nails dug into your hips, his low moans mingling with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. His pace faltered as his cock twitched, his release barreling toward him. “Fuck—” Shigaraki snarled, thrusting into you one last time, as deep as he could go. His body shuddered violently as he came, spilling himself inside you in thick, hot pulses. He stayed there for a moment, grinding his hips to push every drop deeper in your pussy before finally collapsing against you, his breaths heavy and ragged.

You slumped onto the mattress, your limbs weak and spent, but Tomura wasn’t done admiring his work. He withdrew slowly, watching intently as his cum — white, and thick — began to trickle from your overstimulated, reddened cunt. The sight alone made him groan softly, his fingers spreading you apart to see the mess he’d left behind. He licked his lips; the thought of his cum being so easily mixed with your and Dabi’s releases drove him crazy. “Looks good on you,” Shigaraki chuckled, dark and satisfied.

You didn’t have the strength to answer, so you moaned quietly.

“Do you think about the same thing I do?” Dabi asked Tomura, his voice low and deliberate as his scarred hand kneaded the soft flesh of your ass, fingers sinking into it with casual possessiveness.

Shigaraki, kneeling behind you, dragged his palm lazily up and down the length of his cock, thumb teasing over the tip. He licked his chapped lips, hesitant. “Yeah, but… I’m not sure if she’s loosened up enough.” His voice wavered faintly, rough and uncertain. “I don’t wanna hurt her.”

“Tsk.” Dabi clicked his tongue in irritation, his free hand coming down hard on your ass with a sharp slap that made you yelp and jolt forward. The sting and print of his unnaturally warm hand bloomed across your skin. “She’s unbreakable. Ain’t that right, Amoria?” he added, using the name of your quirk as a pet name.

Your body perked up at the sound of his voice, though you turned your head to glance over your shoulder at him with a tired but questioning look. “Mhm?”

Dabi’s grin widened, a wicked gleam in his pale turquoise eyes. “We wanna try something new. Something your beloved ex probably wouldn’t have let you do. You up for it?”

Even through the haze of exhaustion, you found yourself nodding eagerly, curiosity outweighing fatigue as you slowly sat up. “Sure. What is it?”

Dabi scoffed, shooting Shigaraki a smug look. “Told ya,” he noted before his gaze fell back to you, his voice softening slightly. “Have you ever had your cunt stuffed with two cocks at the same time?”

Your eyes widened, the question hitting you like a bolt of electricity. You shook your head slowly.

“Wanna try it?” He phrased it like a challenge.

You rubbed your palms against your knees after sitting on them, glancing between the two men before smiling faintly. “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, I guess…”

“That’s the attitude,” Dabi murmured, his grin stretching wider.

Without another word, Dabi lay back against the bed, dragging you with him until you were straddling his hips again. His cock — thick, hard, and begging to be stuffed in your warm cunt yet again — throbbed against your swollen slit, which still ached from earlier. He grabbed your waist, guiding you down onto him with little patience, groaning as he sank back into your warmth. “Fuck…” Dabi hissed, his head pressing into the pillow as he felt how easily you took him again. His cock slid inside your stretched-out entrance, and he smirked darkly as he felt Shigaraki’s cum leaking out of your slit, flowing over his erection, slick and hot. “See that, Shigs? The slut's so fucking loose. You’re good to go.”

Shigaraki didn’t need to be told twice. He nodded curtly, shuffling closer to get into position behind you. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he adjusted himself. One of his palms slid along the curve of your ass, and he delivered a quick, stinging slap that left you whining softly.

“Relax,” Shigaraki muttered, though his own breathing had grown uneven. With a rough groan, he began pressing himself against your already stuffed cunt, his long, slender cock sliding slowly alongside Dabi’s.

The stretch was immediate, sharp and overwhelming as your walls struggled to accommodate the added girth.

“Fuck, she’s tight now,” Shigaraki growled under his breath, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back.

“Yeah?” Dabi sneered, though his voice was breathy with his own pleasure. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his angle so you were forced to take more of him. “Told ya she could handle it. She’s tougher than she looks.”

Neither of them seemed to mind the friction where their cocks pressed together, filling you completely. In fact, it only made them more eager.

The combined stretch sent you reeling, tears pricking your eyes as they started moving — slow at first, then building in rhythm, a perfectly matched pace that had you gasping for air.

“Shit… look at ya,” Dabi stated, his voice low and hungry as he dragged you down against his scarred chest. His long fingers tilted your chin up until your face hovered just above his. His tongue darted out, running lazily up your cheek to taste the salt of your sweat and tears. “You look fucking ruined, doll. You like this, huh?”

Your only response was a broken moan and eager nod of your head, your body trembling as you tried to hold yourself up while they worked you over.

Behind you, Shigaraki’s nails dug into your hips, his restraint slipping with every thrust. “She’s so— Fuck!— Full,” Shigaraki rasped, his voice cracking slightly as he buried himself deeper.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dabi grunted beneath you, his smirk never fading. “You better keep up, Shigs. Can’t let me outdo you, now, can we?”

The two of them moved in perfect rhythm, their thrusts syncing to a punishing pace that left you helpless and whining in their hold.

Dabi’s chest rumbled with laughter as he watched your face twist with pleasure, more tears spilling down your flushed cheeks, every broken sound you made only fueling him further. “Good girl,” Dabi murmured finally, his voice dark and satisfied. “Such a good, little pet.”

At that point, you were completely incapable of forming coherent words. Your mouth fell open, spilling nothing but broken moans, tiny strings of saliva, and strangled cries as they both relentlessly tore into you, their thrusts striking every sensitive, sweet spot deep within your pulsing, velvety walls. The pleasure was unbearable — overwhelming to the point that you felt yourself drifting off, your mind teetering on the edge of oblivion.

A sharp slap brought you back.

Dabi’s scarred hand cracked against your cheek, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to jolt you awake, his azure eyes narrowed. “Eyes open, doll. You’re not tapping out yet,” he growled.

Behind you, Tomura delivered another sharp smack — this time to your ass. “Don’t you dare pass out,” the leader hissed, his voice raspy as his nails dug into the soft flesh of your hips.

The two men fucked you mercilessly, their cocks stretching you to your absolute limit as they plunged into your dripping cunt, their movements fierce and unrelenting. Your entire body trembled from overstimulation, every nerve ending alive and alight, your pussy clenching uncontrollably around them. It was maddening, beyond anything you’d ever felt — pure, unadulterated bliss mixed with the sharp edge of being completely, utterly used.

“Look at her,” Dabi murmured through gritted teeth, his smirk curling at the edges as his thrusts grew sloppier. “She’s fucking gone, Tomu. You feel that? She’s throbbing around us like she’s about to break again.”

Tomura let out a growl of agreement, his pace turning frantic as he rutted his dick into you, the slick sound of their cocks rubbing against each other within your tight, soaked walls driving him wild. “She’s perfect,” he rasped, his crimson eyes wild with lust.

You couldn’t hold back — couldn’t stop yourself as the climax built and crested like a tidal wave, ripping through your body with unforgiving force. You screamed — a raw, desperate sound — as your abused pussy spasmed violently around them, the overwhelming pleasure forcing tears to slip down your flushed cheeks.

But they didn’t stop.

Over the next several minutes, they continued to fuck into you without mercy, their movements relentless even as your body twitched and jerked in oversensitive ecstasy. Their cocks slid into your overstimulated, reddened cunt, rubbing against each other with every brutal thrust, the friction pulling deep groans and grunts from their throats.

Dabi was the first to snap.

You felt it — a sudden stretch as he buried himself to the hilt, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix in a way that had you sobbing. He cursed under his breath, his body tensing as his shaft twitched violently, pumping hot, thick spurts of cum deep inside you. The warmth bloomed within your core, unnatural and heavy, his groaned “Fuck, that’s it…” echoing in your ears.

Tomura followed moments later. He threw his head back with a ragged yell, his fingers bruising your hips as he came hard again, emptying his balls inside you in thick, pulsing waves. “Take it, take it! Take it, you filthy little cunt,” he choked out, a string of curses tumbling from his chapped lips as he pushed in as far as he could go. His release shot deep, mixing with Dabi’s until it overflowed from your ruined cunt, spilling in hot rivulets down your trembling thighs.

The sensation of being stuffed so full — of their seed mixing and dripping from your stretched, abused pussy — pushed you over the edge once again. Another orgasm tore through you, sudden and brutal, making you squirt violently around their still-hard cocks. A choked cry escaped you before your mind finally went blank.

The world dimmed at the edges, your body completely, utterly spent. As your consciousness slipped away, the last thing you registered was Dabi’s voice — low, dark, and smug — murmuring, “Looks like we broke her, Tomura.”

A soft chuckle followed before everything went black.

Tomura pulled out of you slowly, his cock slick and throbbing as he stroked himself a few more times, riding out the last shudders of his release. With a low, satisfied groan, he collapsed beside Dabi, his chest heaving as his body finally gave in to exhaustion.

Dabi shot him a sidelong glance, already sprawled comfortably on the bed like he owned it. “Move over, Shigs,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, though there was no real bite to his words. “Make some room for her.”

Tomura grumbled something under his breath but obeyed, shifting further to the side. With that, Touya carefully pushed you off his cock, his movements surprisingly gentle despite his usual rough demeanor. He shifted you between them, taking care to ease your limp body into the space they’d made. His scarred hand slipped beneath your head, lifting it just enough to place you onto one of the pillows. Dabi hovered for a moment, watching your flushed face as you drifted off, spent and serene. Your lips were parted, and you were breathing heavily, yet you looked as peaceful as if you’d merely fallen asleep after a long day.

Tomura watched the scene in silence, his red eyes narrowing with faint curiosity. It wasn’t often he saw Todoroki like this — so still, so intent. There was something rare in the way Touya looked at you, something bordering on concern. It tugged at something unfamiliar in Tomura’s chest, though he quickly brushed the feeling off. Breaking the quiet, he reached out, his gloved fingers brushing along Dabi’s scarred cheek. “You were fucking awesome,” Tomura rasped, a crooked smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Touya’s lip curled upward into a smug, familiar grin, the cockiness returning to his expression like a reflex. “Yeah? I know. So were you, Shigs,” he replied, his voice smooth with praise and self-satisfaction. “You’ve got an eye, I’ll give you that. Thought this one would be another shy little thing to fuck but turns out, we found ourselves a damn sex machine.”

Tomura chuckled darkly, resting back against the bed. “We did. And her quirk…” He trailed off, tilting his head as if replaying the events in his mind. “It’s fucking awesome. I’ve never felt so powerful in my entire life — like I could destroy anything just with a glance.”

Dabi hummed in agreement, propping himself up on his left elbow and letting his cheek rest in his palm. “Same here,” he admitted, voice softer now, though the sly smirk remained. His gaze flickered back to your sleeping form. “Pity, though, the cunt works for that old fucking bastard.”

“Not necessarily,” Tomura countered, his tone sharper, more thoughtful. His red eyes gleamed with intent as his mind turned over possibilities. “That might be one of her most valuable assets for us. We can use her — turn her into our spy. With her in our pocket, we’ll always be a step ahead of the fucking heroes. It will help us win the war.”

The suggestion hung heavy in the air. Dabi fell quiet, his grin fading as he considered Tomura’s words. His eyes lingered on you for a long moment, the weight of the choice settling over him.

Tomura tilted his head, watching his boyfriend with mild amusement. “You know I’m right,” he declared, the certainty in his voice absolute.

After a beat of silence, Touya sighed through his nose, a reluctant smirk curling back onto his lips. “Yeah, you might be onto something,” he muttered, the faintest hint of admiration coloring his tone.

“I like how you’re using the name of her quirk as a nickname,” Tomura remarked, his voice low and amused as he reached out, brushing a tangled strand of hair off your cheek with surprising gentleness.

Touya let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah,” he drawled, his lips tugging into a smug grin. “Suits her, doesn’t it?”

Between them, you slept soundly, unaware of the plotting, of their voices weaving around you like a web — one you might never escape.

@unhinged-bratty-boy @hornydynamight @alexandhisstuff @shonen-brainrot @roast-toast

@pixelcafe-network @dabislittlemouse @within-eyesight @sahhuban @jowjayjax

@pridefulbakugou @irkedpomeranian @crystalwolfblog @gojoswifesworld @commonmisery

@proherodabisballsack @bitchyfestivalbouquet @starandcloud @shionancientsblog @words-of-wonder

@fallenrosesblog @t4ters

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purplereina11 · 4 months ago

Text

You're a highly successful basketball player who has just been transferred to Barcelona's women's team. The number 11 holds deep personal significance for you. Among the spectators is none other than football superstar Alexia Putellas, synonymous with the number 11 in Barça history, watching from the sidelines. What starts as mutual admiration quickly turns into something more, fuelled by weeks of playful yet intense online flirting. The chemistry between you and Alexia becomes undeniable.

🏀

The lights inside Palau Blaugrana burst in brilliant hues as you step onto the gleaming hardwood court for the very first time wearing the iconic Barcelona jersey. The atmosphere vibrates with energy—an almost tangible electricity that courses through the air, mixing with the bright hues of blaugrana garlands worn by passionate fans. The rhythmic beating of drums resonates like a heartbeat echoing off every wall, while the mingled aromas of polished wood, mingled with perspiration and adrenaline, transport you to a realm where dreams and determination meet. Your new teammates clap you on the back with murmurs of encouragement that mesh with the pulsing rhythm, yet your focus remains crystal clear.

Number 11.

Boldly stitched across your jersey like a silent manifesto, this number has been inseparable from you for as long as you have danced with the game. It signifies much more than a mere digit—it carries the weight of countless hours of practice, of triumphs and stumbles alike. That steady emblem grounds you as you glance into the sea of faces, absorbing every moment. And then, amidst the roaring crowd, you see her.

Alexia Putellas.

Seated courtside with an air of relaxed authority, she crosses her legs gracefully and rests her arms lightly across her lap. A mischievous half-smirk tugs at her lips, hinting at stories untold. Even if you weren’t a devout follower of the sport, her presence is legendary—a symbol of Barcelona, of dominance, and, by extension, of the emblematic number 11 itself. In a fleeting, electrifying moment, your eyes lock with hers, and though she swiftly turns away, the impression is indelible. In that subtle flicker of amusement on her face, it seems as if she already understands the impact of your presence.

Focus. It’s just a game.

Yet, it isn’t simply a game. It is your grand debut, your moment to prove that you belong in this exclusive circle, to earn your place in this storied club and in this vibrant city. Moments earlier, you had been all smiles, trading jokes with teammates as your image flickered onto the giant screen—your arrival marked by every eye in the arena. Rumor had it that Barcelona had splurged to make you the highest-paid woman’s basketball player in the world, enticing you from your hometown team all the way from England. There was an undeniable buzz surrounding you—a magnetic force drawing every gaze. The weight of their expectations did not weigh you down; rather, if pressure was present, you welcomed it and transformed it into fuel.

Though many whispered about your stature—standing a mere five foot nine inches—it only served to make your exploits on the court all the more remarkable, as every move defied the conventional limits.

And then, the whistle slices through the symphony of excitement, and in that instant, everything else blurs into insignificance. The opening minutes become a whirlwind of fast breaks and razor-sharp passes; the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor punctuates the relentless pursuit of victory. When the ball lands in your hands, a calm, instinctual resolve takes over. You surge toward the hoop, a graceful blur as you spin past a defender, and then release an almost effortless jumper—a testament to your honed skill.

The crowd erupts in a tidal wave of cheers.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of Alexia leaning forward, her gaze intently tracking every nuance of your movement. Her lips part just slightly, as if momentarily captivated by the poetry of the game.

The contest intensifies into a ballet of tight defenses, aggressive maneuvers, and a relentless battle for every point. You are utterly absorbed, dropping three-pointers with surgical precision, orchestrating assists that shimmer with brilliance, and proving over and again why Barcelona had so ardently sought you out. Yet, amid the flurry of action, your gaze repeatedly drifts toward the sidelines, drawn by the unmistakable presence of Alexia. In those rare glimpses, a subtle tilt of her head, a perfectly raised brow, or an approving nod after a particularly elegant play speaks volumes.

Then arrives the defining moment—a high-tension climax. The score hung in a delicate balance as the final seconds tick away. The ball, as if by fate, finds its way to you at the top of the key. You draw a slow, steady breath, feeling every heartbeat echoing in your ears. Rising as if suspended in time, you release the ball and watch in silent awe as it arches gracefully through the air, spinning in a perfect trajectory before whispering cleanly through the net.

Game.

In that instant, the arena becomes an ocean of sound; cheers cascade over you, and your teammates swarm in a jubilant embrace, their hands slapping your back in a celebratory symphony. Yet, in the midst of the euphoria, your eyes search relentlessly for one singular figure. There, standing amid the explosion of festivity, is Alexia, clapping with measured enthusiasm and that tantalizing smirk still etched on her face. Her expression is enigmatic—a canvas of emotions too intricate to decode, yet charged with intensity.

As the crowd’s roaring applause continues to swell, Barcelona officials step confidently onto the court to honor your debut. A microphone is passed to the team captain, whose brief but rousing speech extols your arrival, your skills, and warmly welcomes you into the heart of the club. Your teammates whirl you into a jubilant huddle, and the atmosphere ascends to a fever pitch. Cameras flash in rapid succession, capturing every triumphant detail as your jersey, emblazoned with the proud number 11, is hoisted high for all to see.

Then she appears.

Alexia Putellas, standing just off to the side with her jacket’s pockets casually imbued with confidence, steps forward as if drawn by inevitability. The distance between you dissolves in the wake of her quiet assurance, mirroring the ease with which the official introductions had been made. In that charged moment, the game itself—with its adrenaline, its roaring crowd, and the embrace of your teammates celebrating your first monumental performance in a Barça jersey—fades into a vivid, unforgettable memory.

Throughout the night, you had caught glimpses of her presence: the way her eyes followed your every move, the subtle lean forward whenever you readied your shot. And then, with calm clarity, she spoke.

“Felicidades,” she intoned smoothly, her voice low yet piercing through the clamor of the arena. “Buen debut.”

Though not every word in Spanish was crystal clear, the tone of her greeting sent a shimmering thrill straight through your chest. “Gracias,” you responded, locking eyes with hers in silent conversation. There was an ineffable quality in her gaze—a mix of challenge and admiration—that left you momentarily breathless. Then, with a playful lilt, she added, “El 11 te queda bien... por ahora.” (11 suits you... for now.)

Without a moment’s hesitation, you quipped back, “I make it look better, though.” Her knowing smirk lingered as she turned to walk away, leaving a trail of mystery and promise in her wake. A quiet laugh escaped you as you shook your head, forever etched with the memory of that final look, a spark that hinted at many more encounters yet to come.

The locker room buzzes with the euphoric aftermath of victory—a symphony of congratulatory shouts and laughter that ricochets off the walls. Your teammates surround you, their faces illuminated with genuine admiration, yet you find yourself replaying that brief exchange with Alexia, her words echoing in your mind like a melody that refuses to fade.

"Champagne for the game-winner!" someone calls out, and suddenly a bottle appears, its cork popping with a satisfying thunk that sends foamy bubbles cascading over eager hands. The cold liquid kisses your fingertips as a plastic cup is pressed into your palm.

"To our new número once," your captain toasts in a thick Catalan accent, raising her cup high. "Who plays like she's been wearing blaugrana her whole life!"

Your phone already overflowed with notifications—family, friends, and former teammates all witnessing your Barcelona baptism from afar. But their words blurred together as your mind kept replaying that brief exchange with Alexia, her enigmatic smile lingering in your thoughts like a melody that refuses to fade.

You take a slow sip, savoring the bubbles that dance across your tongue, watching your teammates' animated faces as they relive the game's highlights. The locker room's fluorescent lights cast everyone in a warm glow that matches the heat of victory still pulsing through your veins.

"That last shot," Claudia says, your point guard with hands like magic, "I knew it was going in before it left your fingers." She mimics your shooting form with exaggerated flourish.

"Pure instinct," you reply with a shrug that belies the thousands of hours spent perfecting that very motion.

As the celebration continues, your phone buzzes again in your locker. This notification is different—an Instagram follow request that makes your heart skip Alexia Putellas. Your finger hovers over the screen for a moment before you reciprocate, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Later that night, the team drags you to a celebration at a dimly lit restaurant tucked away in the Gothic Quarter. Ancient stone walls curve around intimate tables, while flickering candles cast dancing shadows across plates of steaming paella and bottles of rich Rioja. Your teammates switch effortlessly between Catalan, Spanish, and English, their laughter a universal language that wraps around you like a warm embrace.

"To think we stole you from London," Claudia teases, refilling your wine glass. "Their loss, our treasure."

"The English never know what they have until it's wearing Barcelona colors," adds Marta, the team's veteran center, her eyes crinkling with mischief.

You're about to respond when your phone illuminates with a notification. Alexia Putellas commented on your post of you mid air the ball flying through the air on its way to score the winning basket

Nice shot tonight.🏀🔥

Three simple words that send a current through your body. You stare at the message, fingers hovering over the screen, suddenly aware of your heartbeat in your ears. The restaurant's ambient noise fades to a distant hum.

"Earth to superstar," Claudia waves her hand in front of your face. "Who's got you smiling like that? Your English boyfriend missing you already?"

You lock your phone quickly. "No boyfriend," you reply, taking a deliberate sip of wine. "Just congratulations."

"From someone special?" Marta raises an eyebrow knowingly.

You shrug noncommittally, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you. You set the phone down, trying to focus on the conversation flowing around you.

The flirting starts subtly.

You reply, Didn’t know you were a basketball fan.

Alexia’s response comes quickly. I wasn’t. Until now.

A smirk tugs at your lips. She’s smooth, you’ll give her that. The conversation flows easily after that—teasing comments about your shooting percentage, her claiming she could school you in a game of one-on-one, you laughing at her confidence. It escalates when she sends a picture of her boots, captioned: Think I could pull off sneakers instead?

You reply with a simple: Doubtful.

A minute later, she sends a selfie, clad in a Barcelona basketball hoodie that’s clearly not hers, lips pursed in mock offense. Better?

Your pulse quickens. I stand corrected.

The back-and-forth continues over the next few days. Playful jabs, inside jokes, the occasional late-night message that lingers on read for a little too long before one of you responds. There’s something unspoken beneath it all, an undeniable tension that neither of you address outright, but it’s there, simmering between every message.

As you scroll through your phone the next day, it’s obvious she’s not done playing. That moment? It hasn’t left your head since. Barcelona as a city, as a community has welcomed you with open arms, and your name is already making the rounds in sports headlines. But nothing compares to the moment Alexia Putellas personally congratulated you after the match, her voice low and smooth as she spoke in her native tongue. You didn’t understand every word, but you understood her the way her eyes lingered, the slight smirk pulling at her lips.

And now, the communication continues.

Alexia comments under a post from FC Barcelona’s official account, featuring a photo of you mid-game.

@alexiaputellas: El 11 te queda bien… por ahora. (The 11 looks good on you… for now.)

A challenge. A tease. You don’t hesitate to respond this time.

@yourusername: I make it look better, though. 😏

Your notifications explode after your writing exchange mimicking the private one face to face the night previous. Fans flood the replies with speculation, excitement, and over-the-top theories. Some are just here for the banter; others are fully convinced something is brewing between you two. Fans speculating, debating, and fuelling the growing tension between you both. The chemistry isn’t just a private moment on the court anymore, it’s playing out in front of thousands.

You post a photo from the gym drenched in sweat, muscles tense, mid-shot, pure focus in your eyes. The caption reads:

Working on my shot, but some things just come naturally.

Minutes later, Alexia replies

@alexiaputellas: Like? 🤭

You laugh, shaking your head before firing back.

@yourusername: Like winning. Maybe I should teach you how.

More likes, more replies, more eyes on you two. It’s not just fans noticing. Your teammates tease you in the locker room, nudging you with knowing looks. Even club officials seem amused.

Then, later that night, Alexia ups the ante. You’re scrolling when you see a notification; she’s tagged you in her Instagram story. It’s a clip from your first game shared from an official Barcelona page, you nailing a three-pointer, followed by a close-up of her reaction court side, lips parted, brows slightly raised. The caption?

Maybe I should learn from you after all…🤔

Your chest tightens, heat rushing to your face. She’s playing with fire. And you’re more than ready to match her. You reply in her DMs.

You: Careful, Alexia. Keep watching me like that, and people will start talking.

The typing bubble appears almost instantly like she was expecting you to respond.

Alexia: Let them.

And just like that, the game changes. You don’t respond to Alexia’s last message.

Let them.

Two words, yet they sit in your mind long after you put your phone down. She’s pushing now, playing with the line between teasing and something else. And you? You’re more than willing to push back.

The next morning, training is business as usual, but your teammates are already buzzing about your little social media exchange. Whispers and knowing glances are exchanged before anyone even says a word to you.

"You and La Reina getting close?" one of them finally asks, nudging you with an elbow as you stretch. Their tone is teasing, but there's genuine curiosity behind it.

Another teammate chimes in before you can respond, grinning. "That little back-and-forth last night.. looked pretty flirty to me."

You roll your eyes, exhaling through your nose as you switch positions. "You lot need a hobby," you mutter, but the smirk tugging at your lips betrays you.

They laugh, clearly not convinced. "C'mon, you’re not even denying it!" someone calls out, and a few others chuckle in agreement.

You shake your head and focus on your warm-up, refusing to give them anything more. Let them speculate. Like the rest of the world. It harmless. Playful. It would fizzle. You were sure of it.

Still, when you check your phone post-practice, you see a DM from Alexia waiting for you.

Alexia: No comeback? I was expecting more from you.

You grin before typing back.

You: Didn’t think you needed me to spell it out. You’re already watching me closely enough it seems.

You send it and lock your phone, refusing to check for a response right away. Let her sit with it for a while. Later that evening, you’re at home, scrolling through Instagram when another notification appears.

@alexiaputellas liked your post.

The post in question? A new picture from training today focused, intense, a caption that reads:

One of us has to be the best female 11 in Barcelona. Might as well be me.

Something you know would bait Alexia in, you knew she couldn’t resist to comment. Not only has Alexia liked it, but she’s also commented.

@alexiaputellas: Bold statement. Hope you can back it up.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you type:

@yourusername: I can and have, yet to see you do so

@alexiaputellas: You’ll see soon enough. Might have to invite you to a game personally.

You huffed a quiet laugh, staring at your screen. She’s bold today. It didn’t take long for your mentions to explode. Fans caught on immediately, flooding the comments with theories, reactions, and over-the-top ship names.

After a moment of thought, you tapped out a reply.

@yourusername: Got a ticket for me La Reina? 👀

@alexiaputellas: Front row or nothing. See you there. 😏

The internet lost it.

Your teammates lost it.

And you?

You just grinned, because for the first time, you felt in control. Now, it was just a matter of seeing how far she’d go. The comments explode. Fans are already losing their minds over the not-so-subtle invitation.

@yourusername: I’ll be there. Front row.

Your stomach does a slow, lazy flip. It’s a challenge. A promise. And for the first time since arriving in Barcelona, you’re not just thinking about basketball anymore. You're thinking about her. Your phone is practically vibrating from the attention. Your last comment—"I’ll be there. Front row."—has sent fans into a frenzy. The replies are a mix of shock, speculation, and sheer amusement.

-Did she just confirm she’s into Alexia?! -This is some next-level flirting. -Forget football, forget basketball, I’m here for this storyline.

"You are such a menace.” You heard soon as your bag dropped in your spot and your back sit felt the cool wood beneath it as you took a seat.

You glanced up from your phone to see your teammate, Jordan, shaking her head at you from across the locker room.

"What?" you asked, feigning innocence.

Camila snorted. "Oh, don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing." She held up her phone, showing your exchange with Alexia on her screen. "This? This is elite-level flirting.”

A couple of your other teammates leaned in. "I give it two weeks before you two are spotted together."

"Two weeks? Please. By next week, she’ll be showing up to our games."

You just smirked. "That’s assuming she can handle the heat.” Another said

Jordan rolled her eyes. "You realise this means you have to go now, right? You can’t just flirt with the most famous footballer in Spain and then not show up."

You stretched your legs out, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll see how I feel."

Jordan shook her head. "You’re enjoying this way too much.” You didn’t even try to deny it.

"Let me get this straight," your coach said announcing her presence in the corner, arms crossed, a barely-contained smirk on her face. "You’re flirting with the most famous footballer in Spain… publicly?"

You rolled your eyes. "I wouldn’t say flirting—"

"Really?" The whole team cut in, in unison, Marta holding up their phone as evidence. "Because to me, ‘Front row or nothing. See you there.’ sounds a lot like flirting."

You had nothing to say to that.

Your coach just shook her head. "I’ve seen players distracted by a lot of things, but this might be my favourite."

Your teammates snickered from across the gym.

"She’s already in her head," Claudia teased. "We might as well start planning a double sports wedding."

"Oh, shut up," you muttered.

Your coach laughed. "Look, as long as you don’t start missing shots because of her, I don’t care what you do. But…" She paused, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Just know that if she shows up to one of our games, I’m putting her in a jersey and making her run drills."

You grinned. "I’ll let her know."

🏀

Before I explore this idea more, would anyone actually want to read it?

Part 2

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

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