#[ ☆ pleased to meet you: dabi ]

[willowser]

also thinking about rei hugging or just being so sweet and soft towards oc cuz this is the friend touya made!!this is the girl he likes and rei treating oc like so kind and oc getting emo from the softness like omg DHAKAJJXKAKSJDIJZSNS FERALSCREECHING MORE

friend, i am here with the promise that more is said on this particular subject in the next chapter 😌✨️🪻 but !! in the mean time, i will give you this !!

she almost doesn't hear fuyumi.

too wrapped up in the still lingering warmth of the shirt in her hands, the end of her pinky fiddling with a hole he's already worn into the sleeve; it's touya's, and when she brings the material to her face, she can only smell the fresh detergent, the sweetness of their fabric softner — but that is his scent, these days.

safe in her home, where he belongs.

the words settle eventually, and she looks up to find her daughter frowning; cheeks round and girlish. "who was it?"

"i don't know," fuyumi grumbles, tossing a pair of socks into a pile she'll most certainly dump at natsuo's door. "some random girl off the street that was — all bossy."

the image that comes to mind has rei stifling a light laugh, made of memories; fuyumi in the kitchen with her hip cocked out, hair still wet from her shower, demanding touya finish eating so they could play before enji arrived home. the pout on her lips is identical, as well as the furrow of her brow. still too young, still in charge.

"mom," fuyumi murmurs, but now her face drops with a familiar sadness, one that ages her immediately. she looks hesitant to speak, as if she's asking for an answer she knows she isn't ready for. "do you think he still talks to those people? from before?"

rei doesn't know — but she thinks touya might.

instead of answering, she brings the shirt back to her face, as if she were hugging him instead of it. warm against her cheek, cozy; it hugs his thin frame nicely, rei thinks, and highlights the still-there softness of his marred face.

it's a long-sleeve, and that must be why he likes it; touya often complains of being too cold now, though it's difficult to find something that doesn't irritate his skin. this is a piece he'll wear for days in a row, if they let him, like he tends to do with any clothing he deems comfortable.

rei fiddles with the hole again and thinks of him, young and afraid. who dressed him then, when he was alone? who made sure he was warm enough?

"i don't know how to let them go," is what he'd told her, one night in the pitch-black of his room. with his head in her lap and his face turned inward, quiet and clinging to her, like always. "i just—have to now."

she doesn't know much about them, aside from the hell they reigned down upon japan — but they must have been like touya was, in the past; small and afraid and wanting.

"they were you're family once, too, right?" she'd asked, running a slow hand through his hair when he grunted quietly. "it's not going to be easy, but that's okay. we'll figure it out."

"i don't know if he does," rei tells her daughter now, lining up the ends of touya's shirt carefully. "is that where you think this girl is from?"

at the mere mention, fuyumi frowns again, even rolls her eyes; a little sister through and through. "i don't know. she didn't—seem to know him all that well, and she was hanging around dr. matsui's office—"

"so, maybe from there, then?" rei smiles genuinely, hoping to lessen the worry in her daughter's voice. "a friend he's made?"

fuyumi finally concedes with a shrug, grabbing another shirt from the basket sitting between them. it's black, too small to be natsuo's, and the thread near the collar is fraying, like it's been caught on something too many times. she, too, lets the residual warmth soak into her hands and then carefully matches up the edges, before placing it gently in the stack of clothes in her lap.

[sednas]

─ YOU'RE STILL MAD?

ও dabi x gn!reader

ও content warnings: ns/fw, hatefuck vibes, degradation

"you're still mad at me?"

of all the moments he could have asked you that question, he chose this one.

"a-are you fucking serious right n... now?" you try to articulate, your hands tugging at the sheets, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"answer me." dabi orders, pulling you by your arms so he can go deeper, harder.

he's pounding inside you way too fast for you to stay sane, his angry tip pushing against your most sensitive spot again and again, until you're drooling on the mattress. you're thankful that he's holding your arms right now, otherwise you'd fall flat on the bed under the assault of his thrusts.

"still... mad at you..." you manage to say between your whines.

you hear him laughs mockingly behind you, biding your wrists behind your back and grabbing a handful of your hair to lift your head and look at your face, he slowed his pace, his cock now lazily pumping inside you. you feel him getting closer to you, pushing his chest against your back and forcing you to sink into the bed.

"if you're so mad at me why are you squeezing me so fucking tight right now, mmh?"

you raise your eyes to meet his blue ones, he's arching an eyebrow, his mouth slightly parted, you can see his tongue sliding on his teeth with lust as he waits for your answer.

and you really want to answer, you'd love to put this fucker back into his place, but you can't, not with the way he's grinding against you, not when the heat emanating from his body is so addictive. your legs quiver under his weight and he firmly grabs your waist while his other hand is still binding your wrists together.

"silent treatment uh? let's see how long you can keep it quiet then."

without any warning, he starts thrusting inside you again, fast, his cock ravishing your insides and you bite your lip in pleasure.

"look at you, drooling all over the covers, so fucking pathetic." he mocks and he releases his grip on your wrists to grab both of your arms again.

his roughness makes you clench around him and you can't suppress the moan that escapes your lips when you hear the wet sounds of your two connected bodies.

"gonna cum, dabi... I'm so close!" you cry out and you don't even have to look at his face to know that he's smiling.

"answer me first. are you still mad at me?" he asks again, accelerating his thrusts until you're uncontrollably shaking under him.

drunk on the pleasure he's giving you, your blood pulsing inside your veins, you shake your head stupidly, your tongue almost lolling out of your mouth.

" n-not mad anymore... ah! love you so much dabi... please!" you practically beg him and feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, his hips slamming relentlessly against your ass while he smiles condescendingly.

dabi would love to tease you a bit longer but the way your hole tightens around him like a vise makes him forget his own sadistic nature and you both finally cum together, whines and groans mingling and reverberating around the room. he finally let go of your arms and you fall flat on the bed, completely exhausted, your body still trembling.

"you love me, uh?" he asks with a smirk.

"and where do you think you are right now baby?"

"go to hell dabi." you sigh and bite your lip as you feel his cum dripping out of you.

─ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard. 

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time. 

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again. 

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life. 

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism. 

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols. 

And now he slanders you on national television? 

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this. 

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.” 

“There is.” 

“There isn’t.” 

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed. 

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.” 

“You serious?” 

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff. 

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you. 

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour. 

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting. 

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.” 

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair. 

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother. 

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour. 

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away. 

“Are we understood?” 

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless. 

“Now, how about that food you’re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh. 

“Katsuki.” 

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep. 

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend. 

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue. 

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts. 

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod. 

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”  

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you. 

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired,  too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes. 

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears. 

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you. 

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off. 

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him. 

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member. 

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down. 

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you. 

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?” 

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be. 

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him. 

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.” 

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.” 

You don’t. 

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish. 

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears. 

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest. 

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time. 

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.” 

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

[inkykeiji]

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side. 

Yet. 

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you. 

“Touya.” 

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons. 

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.  

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on. 

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you. 

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame. 

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer. 

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips. 

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!” 

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!” 

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.” 

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling. 

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…” 

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!” 

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull. 

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.  

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him. 

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye. 

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!” 

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.” 

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech. 

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute. 

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten. 

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process? 

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya? 

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him. 

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly. 

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times. 

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man. 

 So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw. 

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.” 

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder. 

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?” 

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once. 

“I was overheating, and he…” 

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours. 

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice. 

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.” 

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat. 

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?” 

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face. 

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?” 

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.” 

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin. 

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.” 

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever. 

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you. 

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it. 

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much. 

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine. 

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.” 

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face. 

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh. 

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up. 

Sicko. 

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams. 

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.” 

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth. 

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin. 

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt. 

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction. 

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?” 

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?” 

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think? 

“You know.”

He does, of course he does. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.” 

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny. 

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring. 

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.” 

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?” 

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action. 

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full. 

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.” 

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?” 

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips. 

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?” 

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him? 

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!” 

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not. 

“Please, please—” 

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar. 

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips. 

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything. 

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs. 

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.” 

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him. 

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul. 

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable. 

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”  

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.” 

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues. 

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.” 

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!” 

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock. 

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.” 

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!” 

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.” 

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue. 

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!” 

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls. 

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?” 

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues. 

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.” 

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?” 

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly! 

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat. 

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?” 

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue. 

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples. 

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction. 

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you. 

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!” 

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords. 

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?” 

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.” 

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact. 

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails. 

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit. 

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw  by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling. 

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively. 

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?” 

“I always do, don’t I?” 

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone. 

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking. 

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips. 

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.” 

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin. 

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt. 

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more. 

So cute. 

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips. 

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole. 

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal. 

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis. 

“Fuck, f-fuck—” 

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch. 

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever. 

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name. 

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm. 

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum. 

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!” 

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!” 

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix. 

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs. 

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one. 

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs. 

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now? 

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin. 

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.” 

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob. 

“The dream, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.” 

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude. 

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter. 

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him. 

[xxsabitoxx]

xxSabitoxx Imagines/Drabbles Masterlist

╰┈➤ Return to Master Post

╰┈➤ Full Fic Masterlist

╰┈➤ Headcanon Masterlist

Updated Aug.12th 2023

Awkward Encounter | Gyutaro x AFAB Reader | FLUFF/SUGGESTIVE 

Play Fight | Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SUGGESTIVE 

Shit Talker | Sanemi x GN Reader | SMUT

Sanemi Falls In Love For The First Time | Sanemi x GN Reader | FLUFF

Rengoku Falls In Love For The First Time | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF

Plush | Rengoku x Tengen x Wives x Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

Take it and Shut Up | Megumi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Stay Still | Sukuna x AFAB Reader | SMUT 

Attention Please! | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Caught in the Rain | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SMUT 

Earn It | Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

First | Nobara x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Just For You | Inumaki x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Seven Minutes in Heaven | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Seven Minutes in Heaven | Itadori x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Referring to Them as a “friend”| Giyu, Rengoku, Sanemi | NO SET GENRE 

Dating Okkotsu Yuta | Yuta x GN Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

JJK and Your Habit of being Topless | JJK Characters x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE 

Dating Rengoku (Modern AU) | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF/SMUT/ANGST

Mornings with Sanemi | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Singer Shinobu | Singer Shinobu x AFAB Shy Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

Bathing with Giyu | Giyu x GN Reader | NO SET GENRE 

Gojo & Geto Fighting for your Attention | Gojo & Geto x GN Reader | NO SET GENRE 

Childhood Friends | Megumi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Winning His Heart | Akaza x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Dramatic Megumi | Megumi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF 

His Favorite | Douma & Reader | NO SET GENRE 

Irresistible | Akaza x AFAB Reader | SMUT 

His Personal Assistant | Hawks x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

First Love | Kakyoin x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

No Escaping | Sukuna x AFAB Reader | SMUT

A Guiding Hand | Rengoku x NB Reader | SMUT

Tempest | Sanemi x AFAB Demon Reader | MILD DEAD DOVE /SMUT

Cravings | Sanemi x AFAB Pregnant Reader | FLUFF

The Fourth Wife | Tengen & Wives x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Mornings with Makio | Makio x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Mornings with Hinatsuru | Hina x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Mornings with Suma | Suma x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Smile | Megumi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

I Hate Him | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Uzui Gang & Public Tension | Tengen x Wives x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Tengen & His Husband | Tengen x AMAB Reader | FLUFF/SUGGESTIVE

Reward | Muzan x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Loosen Up | Sanemi x Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Team Bucciarati & Walking in on you Changing | Bucci Gang x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

College Roommates Shinobu | Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Easy | Douma x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Cut | Aki x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Needy | Geto x AFAB Reader | SMUT

I Want a Baby | Tengen x AFAB Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

Experience | Kishibe x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Promise Me | Giyu x GN Reader | ANGST

Being Sanemi’s Tsugoku | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Sanemi at the Butterfly Estate  | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Secret Relationship | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Sanemi being Vocal | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Exploring with Sanemi | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | CRACK/FLUFF

Dating Dabi | Dabi x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Sanemi and his Newborn | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Urogi’s Sensitive Wings | Urogi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Personal Heater | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Sensitive Aizetzu | Aizetsu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Rengoku’s Nurse | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Twenty One | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF/ANGST

Tengen and your Panties | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SUGGESTIVE 

Kyojuro and his Newborn | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Drunk Giyu | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Drunk Tengen | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Drunk Kyojuro | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Pissing off Sanemi | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SUGGESTIVE 

Recoil | Haganezuka x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Meeting the Rengoku Family | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF

Stalker Giyu | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Pride Month Imagines | Tengen | Shinobu | Rengoku & Giyu

Pull Out | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT w/concerning themes 

Lecture | Rengoku x AFAB Kocho Sister Reader | SUGGESTIVE/CRACK

Keeping Secrets | Giyu x AFAB Wife Reader | FLUFF

Never Mine | Geto x GN Reader | SMUT?/ANGST

Pheromone Perfume | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Guard Dogs | Satoru + Suguru x GN Reader | NO SET GENRE

Competition 15k special | Sanemi x Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Karoke 15k special | Satoru x Suguru x AFAB Reader | SMUT

[sant-riley]

[Task force 141 + others with Gen z!reader] [pt3]

A/N: Some of these you /may/ have seen on tiktok, that is me who posted them on tiktok. I am green haired bitch so no I didn't steal anything LMAO. I hope these live up to yalls expectations.

The last two of these my lovely friend gave me inspiration for <3 @frogchiro

Warnings: She/her pronouns swearing, age gaps, tiktok memes (like always lmk if I miss something!)

~

You steal Prices hat on numerous occasions bc its a fashion abomination and you refuse to let this man wear it around you. You hide around base as frequently as you can.

Jokes on you though bc he will literally wait til it's your birthday and buy you a matching one and will laugh at your scream of disgust.

Gaz one ups him by gifting you a matching hat as well, putting it on your head as he flicks the brim.

"Thanks Gaz! I love it!

"And not mine?"

"You're on thin ice, old man."

Price gets gifted a set from manscaped by the guys as a gag gift. He uses it for his beard bc he never bothered to look into why everyone was laughing around him.

Price takes your phone when you try and show him memes, squinting hard as fuck like a dad 💀

Soap, if yall have the time off takes you to scottish football games and it's a whole thing. You sitting there while he gets drunk out of his fucking mind, hollering and whooping and you're there trying to sink into your seat.

Chances are someone's gonna shove you and you're gonna trip and fall bc everyone's so amped up and Soap threatens to beat the shit out of them. It's a miracle y'all don't get kicked out 💀

If you have tattoos, Soap is the first one to take a marker set and color them in and adding his own additions. If you were ever to get them actually tattooed, he would tear up and pretend he isn't emotional about it.

"You like me that much Bonnie?"

He would get something of you too, so it evens out. This also makes Ghost in turn get a tattoo for you bc he refuses to be out done and he's just as attached

Neither of them get your call sign or your name, but they get something personal to what each of them associate you with.

The first time you meet Alex, you're across the room doing something that has your focus and didn't realize this is actually your first time meeting him. You ask him for a hand only to look up and see him extend his prosthetic at you with a smile and you scream.

"You asked for a hand but best I can do is a Leg." Price comes running and he sees the scene and rolls his eyes.

Everyone single one of them are the definition of "my girl can wear whatever she wants bc I'll break your jaw." meme btw. You can take care of yourself but you never need to bc they will beat a bitch up.

Laswell invites you constantly to come over and meet with her wife, esp if you don't have a mother figure. She always always tries to come on base to see you and always has a birthday and Christmas present on it's way to you wherever you may be. Her wife loves you to death and they've pretty much adopted you and you cannot escape it, oh well.

Gaz buys you whatever your little heart desires, especially if he's deployed away in a country where they sell exclusives of whatever you enjoy. It's a pain in the fucking ass to try and ship a anime figure to your place from Japan but he's gonna try his best.

Ghost doesn't share his food, or at least it was before you came along. He groans and grumbles about having to feed you but he wouldn't do it if he truly didn't want to. Soap asks and Ghost tells him to fuck off.

If you watch anime, please imagine trying to get everyone in the room and trying to explain who Dabi is. They're all so fucking old they keep thinking you're referring to the elf from Harry Potter and it infuriates you to no end.

Soap and Gaz know better but it's funnier to see you mad.

Being the youngest, they absolutely force you to do the jobs they don't want to. Whether it be cleaning the barracks, to cooking dinner when able, it doesn't matter bc they'll all pull rank on you.

"You're the new kid, get to it then."

"Ghosttttt-"

"Don't Ghost me."

Soap is the kind of motherfucker to play the fifa games and doesn't understand that he's stupid for buying it every single year bc there are no changes oncesoever. He will not listen to you about it and you've given up.

Ghost will see you talk about your etsy list and will ask for your phone, you trust him so of course you hand it over. He hands it back to you and it's just, all purchased. He says nothing while he sips on his tea while you scream at him asking why he did it. He won't tell you but it's because he knows it makes you happy and it'll keep your mood up, giving you a reason to be motivated to get through missions. It's also because he knows that retail therapy is a thing for your generation.

Soap, if you do any, is actually really good at doing your makeup! He knows how to do everything and he refuses to elaborate. (As a kid he'd do his mom's makeup when she went out for dates) he's the one who helps you doll up if you're going undercover.

Ghost, Gaz and Price find you unfunny whenever you make a "wow I wish British people were real." You say it so often and it gets annoying but they also just accept it's a part of life.

Soap personally enjoys the "SCOTLAND FOREVERRRRRRR" meme and will scream it with you. Ghost threatens to cut yalls tongue out.

Other parts can be found under #Kayla writes <3

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel

@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom

If you'd like to be tagged, go to my pinned post and comment there :)

[doumadono]

for your sinful sunday (I'm a huge fan!) can you maybe write Dabi and reader who has a small remote control vibrator in her 😏

Warnings: smut w/o plot, pussy fingering, fem villain!reader, established relationship, semi-public, forced orgasm

A/N: this request got the highest number of votes during the fourth Sinful Sunday poll I held. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA

The dimly lit room was filled with the familiar faces of the League of Villains, each one deeply engrossed in some planning.

You sat at the long, battered table, trying to focus on the meeting at hand. But it was proving to be an impossible task. Every so often, your eyes would dart to the man seated beside you — Dabi, his usual smirk dancing on his lips, and his intense turquoise eyes never straying far from you.

His casual posture betrayed none of the mischief that danced in his turquoise eyes every time he glanced your way. His finger played idly with the remote control nestled in his pocket, hidden from view. “Are you paying attention?” Dabi’s voice was a low murmur, his breath warm against your ear. His lips brushed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “Yes,” you managed to whisper, your voice slightly breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with dark amusement.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the League, a secret thrill coursed through your body. Nestled deep inside your cunny was a small, remote-controlled vibrator, and Dabi held the reins. The mere thought of it sent shivers down your spine. The low hum of its vibrations, currently set to the lowest setting, was a constant reminder of your predicament. Yet it already made you squeeze your thighs together.

Dabi gifted you a little remote control vibrator on your first anniversary. The idea was to spice up your sex life.

Toga was rambling on about a new plan involving blood samples, but you could hardly pay attention. Every muscle in your body was on edge, anticipating the next move from Dabi. He hadn't used the remote yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time.

He pressed a button on the remote, and the intensity of the vibrations increased. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips before you could stifle it, drawing a few curious glances from across the room. You bit your lower lip, your thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to dampen the sensations coursing through you.

Dabi’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Careful now. Don’t want everyone to know our little secret, do we?” He looked far too pleased with himself.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the growing pleasure between your legs. The conversation around you became a distant buzz. You shifted in your seat, biting your lower lip to suppress a moan, resulting in you letting out a heavy sigh.

"Something wrong, Y/N?" Kurogiri’s gravelly voice cut through the haze.

You forced a smile, shaking your head. "No, nothing. Just a bit uncomfortable."

Dabi chuckled softly. "Maybe you should learn to relax," he suggested, his tone dripping with pure amusement.

You shot him a glare, which only made his grin widen. 

He upped the ante, increasing the vibrations to a medium setting. 

You shook your head, desperately trying to focus on anything other than the relentless throbbing between your legs. Each vibration seemed to pulse through your entire body, making it difficult to think, let alone participate in the meeting. Your core tightened, a slick warmth pooling within you as the pleasure built steadily, inexorably.

Across the table, Shigaraki droned on about the latest plan of his. 

You caught snippets of the conversation, but it was all a blur. Your senses were overwhelmed, your body teetering on the edge of an abyss of pleasure.

Dabi’s hand slid under the table, his fingers tracing a slow, torturous path up your thigh. The touch was electric. 

You fought to keep your breathing steady, your nails digging into the armrest of your chair as you struggled to maintain control.

“Relax,” Dabi whispered after leaning closer to you, his voice a dark caress. “Enjoy it.” His fingers found the hem of your skirt, lifting it ever so slightly. The cool air against your heated skin was a stark contrast, making you gasp again. Dabi chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your cotton panties. He traced the outline of your pussy, the touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “Well, well. Someone’s enjoying this,” he teased, his thick voice nothing but a whisper, his fingers pressing firmly against your clothed pussy. 

The combination of his touch and the relentless vibrations had you whimpering softly, your body aching for more. “Please,” you whispered, not even sure what you were begging for.

No one seemed to notice, their attention fixed on the discussion at hand. 

He circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm.  Dabi’s eyes darkened, his amusement giving way to something more primal. “Please what?” he taunted, his fingers slipping under the fabric of your panties, finding your slick, swollen folds. “Oh, you naughty, little bitch.”

You bit your lip harder, a desperate moan threatening to escape. “Please… more,” you finally managed, your voice trembling.

He didn’t need any further encouragement. Dabi’s finger slid inside you, slow and deliberate, each stroke designed to drive you wild. He added a second finger, stretching you, filling you to the brim.

The dual sensations were too much - you felt the pleasure build rapidly, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you.

"Maybe you should lie down," Twice suggested, his tone surprisingly concerned.

You shook your head, fighting to maintain a semblance of control. "No, I’ll be fine."

Dabi’s thumb found your clit, pressing and rubbing in time with his fingers fucking your slick, needy hole. His long digits were scissoring within you, fondling all of the right places.

Your body jerked, your toes curling as you neared the edge. His name slipped past your lips in a breathless whisper, your hips bucking against his hand ever so slightly. Your breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, and your heart pounded in your chest.

Shigaraki’s gaze flicked to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? I don’t want you to infect us if you’re sick."

You forced a nod, your voice strained. "Yes, just...a bit of a headache,” a faint reply left your lips and you accented your words by rubbing your temples with shaking hands.

“Come for me,” Dabi commanded softly, covering his words with a fake cough, his voice low and commanding. He curled his fingers inside you, finding that sweet spot that made your vision blur. 

That was all it took. 

Your hips bucked involuntarily, a soft whimper slipping past your lips. You tried to disguise it with a cough, glancing around nervously. Your body obeyed, shattering into a thousand pieces as the orgasm ripped through you, your slickness gushing out and covering his rough hand. You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the scream that tore from your throat. Your velvety, drenched walls clenched around his fingers, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

Dabi’s eyes never left your face, drinking in every expression of ecstasy. He withdrew his fingers slowly, deliberately, leaving you trembling and spent. He lifted his hand to his lips, licking your essence from his fingers with a satisfied smirk. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured again, his voice a dark promise of more to come.

You slumped in your chair, your body still humming with aftershocks of pleasure. 

Shigaraki's voice cut through the discussions, his sharp eyes narrowing on you. "You indeed look shitty, Y/N," he remarked, his tone a mix of irritation and concern. "Go lie down."

Your heart skipped a beat, panic flaring. You opened your mouth to protest, but Shigaraki’s scowl deepened. "Dabi," he ordered, not giving you a chance to respond, "take her back to her room."

Dabi’s turquoise eyes met yours, and you saw the flicker of a wry smirk curling his lips. His amusement was evident, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

He stood up with a lazy stretch, his movements slow and deliberate. "Sure thing, boss," he drawled, his voice laced with dark anticipation.

The League of Villains might have their plans, but right now, all you could think about was what Dabi had planned for you next.

[baby-tini]

Idk why but shotgunning a blunt with Dabi feels so intimate to me. Like you be in Dabi's lap and it wasn't a quick but a slow exhale as you inhale the smoke. And you be looking so vulnerable and loving to each other. And then proceed to a nice long fucking.

(And I was the one who sent the kidnapped reader with a soft loving Dabi and when you wrote the part where the reader asked for the smokes it made me think of this) and you can add to this if you want

Of course I'm gonna add to this lol, love thinking about smoking with Dabi. High sex is one of Dabis favorite things, the fuzzy feeling he gets from the high and the further ecstasy he receives from the feeling of your cunt squeezing him, never fails to feel euphoric for him. You're always so perfect for him, always such a good girl, aren't you doll? Yeah you are, always saying please as you reach for the blunt and thank you when he instead, blows it in your mouth. He prefers you sitting on his lap so he can kiss and mark up your neck as you inhale the blunt and blow it in his mouth while your tongue dances with his. It allows his hands to run down your side as he grabs your ass and pulls you away by your hair so he can spit in your mouth. Only then to pull you back and lick into your mouth while he makes you grind down on him. "You like that doll, hm? Like when I wrap my hand around your fuckin' throat while I fuck into you, hm?" He growls out in your ear, licking a stripe up your neck. There's a repeated "uh huh, uh huh, uh huh" spilling from your lips as he fucks into you, meeting your thrusts from beneath you. He laughs aloud, the sound coming out manic as he rolls his hips up into you. "Yeah you do, love this fuckin' dick, say it baby, be good and tell me how much you love it." Your voice comes out in whiney pants as your head falls back, "love it s'much Dabi, thank you, thank you s'much." He laughs against your throat, kissing at your jugular. He picks up the blunt again and wraps his lips around it as he inhales, his other hand still wrapped around your throat and he uses that as leverage to pull you down and lazily blow the smoke in your mouth. Letting your eyes roll back and slip shut, you move back to start riding him again, the bouncing slow and lazy as he fingers the blunt, blowing the smoke in your face as he takes his hand off you throat and moves it down to your hip, making you grind harder against. His cock reaching so deep in this position as he puts the blunt down, holding the smoke in his lungs while he uses his, now, free hand to stroke the bulge in your stomach. Pushing down on it too make you tighten and gasp. Taking his hand off your stomach, he pulls you down against his chest, petting your hair as he uses the hand on your hip too hold you still and fuck into you harder, his stomach clenching as feels his orgasm about to hit. He kisses at your cheek, whispering in your ear, "can you cum for me baby.. hm? Can you do that for me? Need to feel you cum for me as you whine, always sound so pretty for me when you do angel.." It comes out as a plead instead of a command like he wanted, but it has you clawing at the healthy skin on his chest as you whine into his ear, vocalizing your appreciation as he he cums in you. Letting the rough rolls of his hips turn into lazy grinds while he kisses your hair, singing your praise while you ride out your orgasms together.

[r4spb3rr13s]

i saw the news :( however i have come to re-enter! So my mcbling angel, could we pretty please get a part 3 of meet mcbling hotties with maybe shigiraki, sabi, maybe a little twice, maaaybe a little gentle criminal.... i luv u and ur my bae as well cutie >3<

- 🍥 anon

villains meeting their mcbling gf

♱ shigaraki, twice

♱ pt.1 here pt.2 here

notes: dabi is in part one!! also this may be ooc 😔 and sorry bby but i have no clue how to write gentle criminal 😓

Tomura is in his usual spot, staring the TV down with enough rage to burn holes in the screen. Naturally, it’s because All Might is on screen. Like always.

The bar is in a low hum, filled with smoke from Dabi’s refusal to step out to huff on his cigarette. Spinner and Toga are playing cards, and her giggles bounce off the walls. Other than that, it’s fairly quiet.

Until the door creaks open. Then it’s silent.

And there… you stood. Awkwardly.

Tomura’s head snapped towards you with a sickening crunch resounding through the air. Any words he had reering up are stuck in his throat, though.

The light is shaping you like an angel. A very promiscuous angel, that is. A tight, pink dress hugs your curves and the platform wedges you have on accentuate every step your fake-tanned legs take.

“Uh… Himiko?”

Said girl squeals, and her chair scratches across the floor like nails on a chalkboard as she jumps up. Tomura watches as she runs up to you and wraps you in a hug.

“What the fuck…” Dabi trails off, eyes pointed at Tomura. Everyone is looking at Tomura, trying to gage his reaction. It snaps him out of his stupor.

“Toga, who is this?” He rasps out, pointing a lazy knuckle at you. His eyes barely flit over you, but when they do, you see a small bit of pink blossom on his pale face.

It’s weirdly cute.

Himiko squeezes you so hard you think she might suffocate you to death. I mean, you wouldn’t put it past her, but still.

“This is Y/n!!”

She is met with blank stares.

You roll your eyes and shrug her off, making her pout. Taking a cautious step forward, you catch Tomura’s eye - you know exactly who he is.

You’ve admired him for a while, and the League, in silence. You’ve been on chat rooms with a false IP address, watched their dark-web videos, heard their lackeys talking in the darker parts of town.

Himiko found you when you were talking to one of the lackeys, and surprise, surprise, took a liking to you. She gushed about the League, and weirdly…

You wanted in.

You strode forward, ignoring the room’s eyes on you - you were just focused on Tomura Shigaraki.

He watched you with stiff, darting red eyes. It was like he couldn’t decide where to rest his eyes - everytime he moved his gaze, there was your soft, glowy skin or something pink or patterned or your soft hair-

“Y/n L/n,” You said and held your hand out.

Tomura watched your hand as he leant on his own hand. His lip curled and you faltered. But, he fished out a thick-lined glove, slipped it on, and grabbed your hand.

His eyes fell on yours as your hands shook. The pink on his face was almost the same colour as your dress, and his cracked lip twitched.

“I’m here to join, by the way.” You clarify, heat rising to your own cheeks.

Your hand is still in his. Tomura notices and drops you like a hot pan, quickly looking away. He mutters a small, ‘okay’ and notions for a pen from Kurogiri - another member you’re familiar with.

Tomura scribbled something down with his thick glove on, muttering under his breath in a raspy, crisp voice. The sound cuts through the thick air and makes the hair on the back of your neck.

He stops writing and holds out the paper to you. It’s… a number. You almost facepalm.

You cock a brow, and Tomura goes pink again, but refuses to look at you.

He clears his throat, itching his neck absent mindedly. “I’m busy now. Call me later and we’ll talk about your membership.”

:::

Jin is tired. Spent. Exhausted. Fatigued. He’s practically swaying on his feet as he breathes in the smoke from his cigarette. He nods at Dabi as he walks past and enters the dingy bar.

If he could just close his eyes-

A loud whistle rings through the air, and for a startling moment, Jin thinks he’s getting hit on by the builders across the street. Until you come into view.

Your confident stride falters and he watched with an open jaw as you pause to scream at the men in hi-vis.

There’s a small, douchey part of him that can’t even blame them - you’re gorgeous!

Your tattered denim shorts sit low on your hips, and the majority of your torso is on show in the low light of dusk. A small, pink tube top is wrapped around your chest, and big jewellery jangled with every finger you jab as you scream.

Your verbal assault on the builders finally halts when they let out a hurried apology and decide to get back to work. With a sigh, you push your hair out of your face and move on.

Well, you would if there wasn’t another guy in your way.

He’s tall, muscular and blond, with eyebags that rivalled the purple of your velvet bag. The smoke from the cigarette in between his fingers is curling around his neck like a choker, and brought stark attention to his agape mouth. You scoff.

“What? Want your turn?”

“Yes please- no, no thanks-” He barks out, then covers his mouth. Pink spreads across his cheeks from under his hand, and you cock a brow.

“…Yes or no?”

“Yes-no-”

The poor guy seemed torn. He was muttering to himself now, back rigid and face pink. It was… endearing in a way.

You cast a short glance back to the builders, and Jin takes the moment to drink in the size of the silver hoops hung either side of your face. He could probably fit his hand through them, they’re so big. Or-

“Listen, you’re cute… so I’ll give you number,” You mutter and take a short step towards him. Your sparkly eyes search his face, and he curtly nods, still as pink as bubblegum. “Okay, just, if they ask, I was giving you directions.”

Again, he nods. Like a well behaved dog, you think.

The poor man is left in a mental battle watching you leave. He does know for sure, though, the paper clutched in his hand with your number on is becoming his most sacred possession.

:::

notes: THIS SHIT IS NOT PROOFREAD IM SORRY 😭

taglist: @marzkqx @aespie @itzlittlemissperfect @im-so-tired-sorry @mangalovesanime-blog @livingmydreamlife5555

[flamingtouya]

prompt: dabi bullies u (into studying)

"P-please," you whine - a poor attempt at eliciting a miniscule amount of pity from him. Dabi's grip around your waist tightens as he presses his erection against your clothed ass. His thumbs come up to rub at your sides, trailing up and down your ribs until they find their way under your shirt.

It's only been 20 minutes, he's already reduced you to a whiny puddle in his lap, and you haven't memorised a single fucking thing.

"Ditetramethyl- haaah- fuck-", you curse, fingers digging into his thigh. Dabi's hand finds your hair, gently pulling until your neck is exposed. His breath ghosts over your shoulder and his tone is full of cruel amusement when he speaks. "Wrong."

"Tetradi- goddamnit, Dabi-"

"Wrong again."

"It's not!" you protest, even though you have no way of knowing for sure. Your eyes roll up into your skull, chemistry notes but a blurry mess between your hands. Dabi gives your nipples a gentle pinch and pulls away just in time when you grind closer to him.

"Dimethyltetrazine," you pant, finally. "It's Dimethyltetrazine."

He checks the crumpled piece of paper in his palm, eyes skipping over the poorly scribbled answers. The seconds of silence stretch for an eternity when all you can think about is his rock-hard boner beneath your throbbing cunt and how deliciously it would stretch you out, if only Dabi would let you sit on it -

"Not bad," he mumbles. "Four out of seven. 'S that all your pretty brain can manage?"

"N- no, gimme a second, 'm gonna..." You try to wiggle your hips, but the friction is barely there. Dabi is doing a fucking excellent job at holding you in place and if he wasn't being such an asshole about it, you would ask him to help you study more often. Barely holding back a silent gasp as he rolls your aching bud around, you try to focus on the next formula. It's a cyclic ether with branches on either side, and you give it your best shot.

"Chloroperoxybenzoic acid," you guess, hoping that he'll let it slide if you sound somewhat confident. He momentarily stops his abuse on your breast and you exhale in relief, almost sore from the merciless teasing. Mentally, you're an hour ahead, skipping to the part where Dabi has you bounce on his cock, squelching and slapping and coming undone until your legs give out and he has to bend you over the table to fuck your brains to mush.

Suddenly a rough palm meets your ass. The unexpected slap steals a choked moan from you and a moment later, Dabi is back to eagerly kneading your tits, playing with your most sensitive spot until tears prick at your eyes. Fear pools in your stomach when he licks a stripe up your neck and you realise he's far from done with your torture.

"Wrong."

[willowser]

pleased to meet you—

dabi x reader

wc: 17.9k

warnings: explicit language, mental instability, angst/hurt/comfort, referenced and implied drug abuse/use, suicidal ideation and thoughts, referenced and implied past sexual abuse, some body horror, mentions of unhealthy eating habits

—hope you guess my name

CHAPTER 3/? | HOME PAGE

“Fuyumi told me about your friend,” Rei nudges him lightly and it’s like the whole fucking world snaps back into place. Can almost feel his pupils shrinking, the synapses in his brain reconnecting, all the tension leaving every debilitated muscle in his rickety body.

His mother is smiling at him, eyes closed. Like she’s so happy she can’t contain it.

“Yeah?” It comes out disguised as an exhale, but his heart is about to slip between the gaps in his chest and he’s trying to hide how hard he’s panting, out of breath from all this shit with Dabi.

“Yeah, she told me that she seemed…” Rei thinks for a moment, offering to take Touya’s bowl when he struggles to find a place to put it with quaking hands. Must know something’s wrong now, with how long it takes him to light the cigarette. “Feisty.”

Needs a few drags before he can find it in him to respond. “That the word she use?”

“Well,” from the corner of his eye, he can see her little smile, coy almost. “Maybe not exactly.”

the full chapter can be found HERE on ao3 ! ✨️

[dabislittlemouse]

tainted angel 🪽 MASTERLIST

ෆ pairing: Dabi x Hawks’ little sister

ෆ Synopsis: While stalking Hawks and trying to find out more information about him, Dabi comes across his little sister, a sweet angelic thing that welcomes him inside her house with a bright smile on her face. Dabi can’t help but get obsessed over her, the sudden urge to make her his takes over him entirely, maybe to have Hawks under his control while he enjoys his little sister, or maybe he really does like her. Nevertheless, she does not know the danger she just involved herself in, nor does she know that her brother’s handsome “friend” is in fact a dangerous villain who has sick twisted intentions.

ෆ cw‼️: smut, yandere themes, corruption kink, dubcon/noncon, mixed feelings, Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, stalking,

ෆ A/N please read before going further: This multichapter fic is written in Dabi’s POV mostly, it’s written in first person. You will come across Dabi’s thoughts and feelings, how he perceives things. He calls Keigo’s sister “angel” instead of the famous Y/N label, so I’ll be calling her angel too. Sometimes I include angel’s POV too (which you can totally insert yourself and imagine being her. As I write this fic I also imagine myself being the sister as well). Due to her being Keigo’s sister she might have specific descriptions such as hair color, eye color, skin, wings etc.

CHAPTER 1

During a boring rainy day of wandering around, Dabi gets a call from the men he hired to get more information on Hawks. They had found his old house, where supposedly his mother lived. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit, not knowing the surprise that was waiting for him: the little angel Hawks used to keep hidden from the public.

CHAPTER 2

Hawks threatens Dabi to not get close to his family, specifically his sister. But Dabi definitely has other plans the moment he got her number, deciding to call her late at night.

CHAPTER 3

Angel continues to secretly interact with Dabi despite Hawks warning her not to. She is entirely captivated by his charm and mysteriousness. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit and leave a small gift.

CHAPTER 4

She finally agrees to meet Dabi behind an alleyway, late at night. They both head to an empty park, where Dabi decides to make a move and savour her. From that moment things get heated up.

CHAPTER 5

Hawks is worried that his sister was out so late at night. He starts doubting her words, wondering if she is even telling the truth. He is not pleased with what he sees once she comes back.

CHAPTER 6

As Dabi refuses to elaborate on who he is and what bad things he has done, angel starts getting more paranoid. Especially knowing that he might’ve possibly entered her house at night or stalked her. As much as she enjoyed his company, she doesn’t feel safe, so she decides to listen to her brother’s warnings and stop talking to Dabi. Though Dabi is anything but pleased with her decision.

CHAPTER 7

She has been keeping watch for a few nights by now, anxiously waiting just in case Dabi decided to appear again, living in constant fear. Strange dreams appear in her sleep, of him being so close to her, touching her body in ways she begs for more. But is this really just a dream?

CHAPTER 8

“You like the danger don’t cha?” Dabi smirks. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”

CHAPTER 9

Time for a real date. Giving Dabi another chance, she again lets herself swim in dangerous waters, though this time she won’t come back unscathed

CHAPTER 10

Giving in to the temptation and burning desire that could no longer be contained, she finally lets her body and soul into Dabi’s hands.

.

.

Divider credits @cafekitsune

🏷️current tags on this fic: @mostlyheinous @dabihawksluva @scariusaquarius @syrenkitsune @touyalove @awalkingshame @dabislittlebeaniebaby @madsttx @cr-33-d , if you want to be added in the taglist and get notified when a new chapter drops, let me know!

[irisintheafterglow]

hello everyone! as stated a few days ago, i will be participating in the fundraising initiative led by @ficsforgaza! for more information or if you would like to join, please visit their blog :) if you see something that interests you, i implore you to donate to one of the fundraisers! thank you!

HOW TO PARTICIPATE:

step 1: please donate to a vetted fundraiser and screenshot your proof of donation with any private information crossed out.

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SPONSOR A WIP (BY FANDOM)

total amount raised: ~ $70.18 USD

last updated: 06/23/24

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

"but i love you like you need me to" - dabi/todoroki touya x reader

summary: it wasn't often that dabi got nightmares; but, when he did, he always ended up outside of your door. tags: angst/comfort with happy ending, tolerable acquaintance to lovers, he falls first (but won't admit it) current wc: 0 / 1,500+ donated wc: 0 progress: 0 / 1,500+

"i can tell when somebody still wants me" - ex!bakugo x reader

summary: alcohol, feelings, and unfinished business. what could go wrong? tags: exes to lovers, miscommunication, parties and bars, angst/comfort current wc: 128 / 2,000+ donated wc: 0 progress: 128 / 2,000+

"is it that sweet? (i guess so)" - prohero!kirishima x reader

summary: as the owner of the only 24-hour coffee shop in the city, you get your fair share of regulars. baking and cleaning the espresso machine was routine, but preventing a crime was not on your to-do list. tags: strangers to lovers, meet ugly, wrong place right time, mild angst/fluff current wc: 0 / 2,000+ donated wc: 0 progress: 0 / 2,000+

JUJUTSU KAISEN - ALL FULLY SPONSORED!

"lights, camera, bitch, smile!" - rockstar!gojo x popstar!reader

summary: it's your first time headlining the biggest music festival in the country, and your guitarist is nowhere to be found. good thing your other headliner (and billboard chart rival) can play guitar, right? right? tags: implied fem!reader but gn pronouns used, rivals to lovers, he falls first, meet ugly, mild angst/fluff current wc: 1,985 / 2,500donated wc: 1,400 progress: (1400 donated + 1330 written w/o donation) = 2730

"big iron" - cowboy!geto x reader

summary: he's not the first to go after the crystal-eyed bandit, but something tells you that this one will keep his promise to buy you a drink when the hunting is done. tags: western!au, implied fem!reader but gn pronouns used, strangers to lovers current wc: 2,478 / 1,500donated wc: 500 progress: 2,478 / 1,500

"green chimney's" - nanami kento x jazz pianist!reader

summary: he felt a little out of his element, with a small bundle of flowers sitting in his lap and brooding in the dark corner of the jazz bar. yet, you play that song he likes again, and nothing else matters. tags: strangers to lovers, first meeting, banter-driven fluff current wc: 100 / 1,500 donated wc: 1400 (FULLY SPONSORED!) progress: 100 / 1,500

HAIKYUU!!

"the alchemy" - kuroo tetsurou x reader

summary: when your boyfriend and captain of the basketball team breaks up with you, you decide to get revenge. how? fake date the volleyball team captain, of course! **four part series** tags: fake dating trope, friends to lovers, mild angst and mostly fluff current wc: 74 / 8,000+ donated wc: 1,500 (770 added to progress) progress: 74 written w/o donation + 770 donated = 844 / 8,000+

"to tell you is too scary (so i'll just say something else)" - sakusa kiyoomi x reader

summary: nightmares don't usually translate to reality, but you call your childhood best friend for the first time in years. just to be safe. tags: angst/comfort, childhood friends to lovers (??), dialogue-driven, he hates everyone but you current wc: 1,000 / 1,000 donated wc: 1000 (FULLY SPONSORED AS OF 5/30) progress: 1,000 / 1,000

"you'll be the match, i'll be the fuse (boom!)" - streamer!sakusa x reader

summary: your boyfriend's chat reaches their sub goal, which means you have to beat minecraft for him. tags: established relationship, streamer!au, crack and fluff current wc: 0 / 1,000+ donated wc: 0 progress: 0 / 1,000+

ONE PIECE (LIVE ACTION)

"stowaway" - opla!zoro x reader

summary: on a passenger ship bound for a neighboring island cluster, you discover someone lurking in the cargo hold. you just wanted to steal a can of peaches, but now both of you have to sneak out without being seen. tags: meet ugly, strangers to lovers (??), crack and fluff current wc: 0 / 1,000+ donated wc: 0 progress: 0 / 1,000+

"expo and exes" - opla!sanji x reader (cooking show!au)

summary: you're forced to work with the one contestant that irritates you the most. hopefully, he doesn't get you both eliminated. tags: exes to rivals to lovers, crack and fluff with some mild angst, he falls first current wc: 29 / 1,500+ donated wc: 0 progress: 29 / 1,500+

thank you for reading through, and please do consider donating to help the people of palestine! boosts are appreciated and anything helps :) if you have any questions, please let me know!

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day six: dacryphilia kink

>>> i dunno what it is about dabi that scream dacryphilia to me, i genuinely believe every fic i've done for him involves it lmfao please! big thanks to @keigotakamiz for helping me thru some of the rough patches on this one, i luv u so bad bby!! this one contains dark content so please read the content warnings.

>>> starring: touya todoroki x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: dacryphilia clearly, power play, age gap of three years, both are adults as always, keigo's little sister!reader, protective big brother keigo, pervy touya, coercion, dubcon, blood (just a tiny bit), size kink, corruption kink, fingering and oral (fem receiving), pierced dabi, degradation, pet names, temperature play. >>> wc: 4k >>> event masterlist

touya has always been obsessive, selfish, and determined to get his hands on whatever he deemed as his. ever since he was a little boy, he had his own cunning ways of getting what he wants; but you keep slipping out of his grasp. he’s been watching and waiting for the perfect time to make his next move on keigo’s adorable and clueless little sister, so sweet and stupid with your sultry little bats of your eyelashes and cute little smiles with no idea of what he’s plotting behind his turquoise stare. 

it’s definitely your fault. you’re far too bright and kind for his liking. touya had to humble you, he had to take a little bit of your light for his own. it’ll be all too easy to make you his. you didn’t have any self-respect, that was clear from the way you walked around your house in skimpy dresses and slutty crop tops that reveal the delicious figure you keep beneath. but he had to be careful. keigo was oh so protective of his baby sister, so every intimidating stare your way had to be calculated. it took months for keigo to even leave the two of you alone with one another long enough for him to use the bathroom. but even in those brief two to three minutes that keigo walks away, touya’s got you blushing from his comments about your outfit. he just can’t help but grow addicted to the flushing of your cheeks and the squeal in your voice when you beg him to stop, you’re just so cute and malleable. he’ll continue to bide his time. just for you. 

the teasing and taunting only got worse from there. you would never tell keigo about it, if only to spare your own embarrassment from the inevitable blush and rubbing of your thighs as you tell your big brother all the naughty things touya whispers in your ear and how he touches you when he’s not around. he seems not to notice all your squirming away from and quiet responses around the white-headed man, chalking it up to your easily flustered nature. no, he doesn’t suspect a thing, not even leaving behind plumes of his fierce wings to spy on you. 

this has to be because touya is so good at throwing him off. he dotes on you just like keigo does, patting your head so sweetly and letting you borrow his coat when you’re cold. so, to your surprise or horror, keigo trusts his morally questionable friend to keep his quirkless baby sister safe during every meeting with the hpsc or his dates with his new girlfriend. so now touya gets to corner you on the couch and tug at the the flimsy fabric clinging to your plush chest—that despite his unrelenting jests, you still wear—only telling the deranged man that you enjoyed his attention. but to be fair, you’re not sure that he’s wrong. 

“you cold, dollface?” he coos, icy breath fanning against your neck as he leans in closer to get a better view of your hardening nipples. you’re precious, so easy to file up. “or do ya just like it when i get this close?”

you squirm, but there’s nowhere for you to go. one of your hips already bumps up against the arm of the couch and his fingertips practically sear into the flesh of the other one. there was something undeniably alluring about touya, he was scary and dangerous—and he looked the part too—but he is keigo’s best friend, so he couldn’t be too bad, right? and you knew your big brother would be disappointed in you, even if you could admit it to yourself that touya’s teasing wasn’t all that bad, no matter how naked it made you feel. what does it say about you that you enjoy it? his mocking laughter and hand grabbing your jaw brings you back to the situation at hand. 

“hm? it’s rude not to answer your elders, brat.” he clicks his tongue, admiring the way your eyes widen and cheeks darken a few shades. keigo and touya were only three years older than you, but the latter enjoyed making that feel like decades when it came to respect from you.  

“i’m–cold, yes.” you reply in a barely audible squeak, not able to meet his gaze despite the harsh grip he has on your face. he pouts at your response, of course it’s a sadistic mock of your shyness. he leans back and removes his coat, sighing at the loss of warmth before tossing it over you like a throw blanket. he has an interesting scent, the musk of smoke and ash combined with something more woodsy, like maple or pine. you inadvertently snuggle into the fabric, cutting your eyes over to him remaining in his thin white shirt, where his own hardened nipples peek through. he catches your gaze on him, tossing his head back with laughter at the idea of you checking him out. 

“like what you see, doll?” he arches his brow, letting his greedy hands feel your squishy thighs, a treat for his frazzling patience. he hears the sharp intake of breath, and you keep squirming away like you want him to stop, but touya sees the truth in your face, the way your sweet little eyes ask for more while you bite down on your lip–you’re confirming everything he needs to know. 

“keigo–” he places a rough finger over your lips to keep you from furthering the sentence. you sink further into the couch, his predatory smile making you feel like shrinking into nothing. 

“-won’t be back for a while, he’s with his new girlfriend.” he hums cheerfully, as if it was the best news in the world. to him, it was. keigo’s new girlfriend might just be touya’s favorite person alive right after you, keeping the man busy enough that he was no longer concerned with his little sister’s schedule, no longer watching her so closely that claiming her for himself was impossible. nah, this new chick gave touya the window he needs. “don’t worry a hair on your pretty little head. he trusts me, you should too, right?”

he’s petting the top of your head to soothe you, sending you mixed signals. you weren’t sure what he was trying to do: was he making a move on you or was he going to continue babying you like your brother does? you suppose he has a point, your big brother loves you more than anything, and not even love could blind him into leaving you with a bad person, right?

you nod. his smile grows. and he toys with you like that for a few more hours, leaning too close, touching your thighs and hips to watch you wiggle, fanning his minty breath over your face. he even taunts you about your clothes again, pulling his coat off you and scrunching his nose in the enjoyment that follows from watching you pout at the loss of warmth. he knows he has time, keigo planned to make a move on his woman, even told him not to wait up for him and everything. 

“your brother think you’re a virgin?” he asks, watching the goosebumps spring up along your skin, your clothes doing nothing to keep you warm or protected from his view. he thinks it’s naive of keigo to think another man hasn’t seen you for what you are, a little slut waiting to be used. “sure he thinks you are…but lookin’ at the way you dress, i bet you ain’t.” 

you shake your head violently, sitting against the arm of the couch, facing him. “i am! swear it touya, really!” 

he chuffs at your exclaimations, wondering if you could be telling the truth. he clicks his tongue, deciding to push you a bit to see. you just look so cute all panicked and pleading. “i think i should check! seein’ i’m his best friend and all, it’s only fair.” his grin is wicked now as his hands land on your knees, forcibly spreading them. you squeal a little, your hands reaching out to push him away, albeit a feeble attempt. 

he laughs again, truly amused by the way you pretend to fight him, but it only makes the blood rush towards his cock faster. “what? Not the virgin you swear to be, takami-chan?” he taunts, pinning your arms to your sides. you shake your head. 

“no–no, i am! i–” you cry at him, the commandingly tight and tingling grip he has on your wrists making you realize just what he was capable of. he was far stronger than he looked, and fighting would get you nowhere. his touch causes a new sensation, a fluttering deep in your stomach that makes you wonder why you fight him at all. 

“then quit your squirmin’ and let me see f’r myself.” he huffs, incinerating the tiny pajama bottoms you had the nerve to put on. your hips lift up off the couch as you try to shift away from him yet again, cold air blowing against that flame flickering in your pussy. he growls as you keep trying to escape even though your body so clearly wants him. he can see the way your nipples harden under your shirt again, so he’s reaching up to burn that away too. he has delicate control over his quirk after all his practice, and he knows exactly how to maneuver his flames to not hurt you. you still squall and scream at the sight of the blue embers turning your favorite crop top into nothing but black ash as if he could even afford to hurt you. he was sure his treatment would keep you quiet about this anyway, but he certainly couldn’t leave any visible evidence of his playtime with you, so he would settle for claiming your cunt until you had no choice but to grow the next generation of todoroki in your womb—and watch you have fun explaining that to your precious older brother. 

he almost thinks you’re stupid for not realizing it, that he’d never seriously hurt you, but the way tears gather at the corners of your eyes, glossy and threatening to spill over has him considering that fear might make you easier to deal with. and it sure would be nice to see you cry. 

“aw, i forget you’re just a quirkless little thing. might wanna listen to me then, yeah? i promise i’ll make ya feel real nice.” his voice nearly sings as he watches fat tears start to roll down your cheeks in embarrassment. you can’t hide your tits and pussy from him, not even as hard as you try to hold your arms around the areas. “let me make you feel good, pretty. been wanting to for so long…” 

he pries your legs apart again, getting into the floor to give himself room. when he lands on his knees, he slides his grip to your thighs, rotating the way you sit. your back rests against the cushions now, like how a normal person would sit on the couch, other than the fact that your legs dangle off touya todoroki’s shoulders and he’s leaning between your legs, smiling up at you like the cheshire cat. he takes a sinewy finger to separate your lips, humming as he moves through you with little resistance, you’re already wet, way wetter than someone crying and squirming should be. he chuckles when your body jolts a bit from the warm pressure he applies. 

“looks like you’re a little slut to me.”  he hums, circling the wetness around your hole. his fingers feel so interesting slipping inside you, so different from the little ones of your own. you were telling him the truth, you were untouched—by anyone else, of course. you squeeze down on his digit as he slides it in, the tight grip has him biting his lip immediately. of course you’re a virgin, that much is clear just from the way you act, even clearer from the way keigo acts. no way he’s let any dude near you—and for good reason, look what happens the first time he leaves you alone…

he can hardly even move his fingers from the way you squeeze, and he knows just how to loosen you up. he leans in to suck your hard clit in his mouth, not hesitating to run his teeth across the nerve-riddled bud. the feeling is so electric and delicious, you have no control over your hips as they push into his face; your walls finally relaxe enough for him to pump his finger through. he leans back to watch your face now that his finger is searching for your mushy spot, curling and stroking your insides. your nose is scrunched in pleasure, eyes closed and mouth dropped open. he snickers. if you were this fucked out from one finger he couldn’t wait to see how you would handle his cock. 

“yeahhh, you’re definitely a little whore. how’s keigo gonna take this?” he pouts, adding his second digit as he sees your eyes snap open to protest. they drag against you so deliciously, all the worry and guilt melts in your mind. his smell becomes overwhelming, his warmth is consuming. maybe you are a little whore, but maybe that’s fine if you get to be his. you are apart of the decision this time when your hips rock against his fingers, and he grins at your acceptance. it excuses him of any wrongdoings, any villainous behavior. you’re basically asking for what comes next. if everything goes to plan, he’ll have plenty of time to give you the full treatment of that a brat like you deserves, but for now he has to see the face you make when that untainted pussy stretches around his cock. 

“feel good?” he asks, to which you babble and nod. it did, he fills you up way better than your own fingers, only barely curling into your pleasure spot with every thrust of his digits, a little squelching noise paired with your breathy whispers make that very last thread of rationality snap. touya can’t hold himself back anymore. he stands up and takes your legs with him, pushing your knees to your ears. you gasp at the change, looking up at him with those beautiful bleary eyes. he mocks your pout, laying his cock over your pussy and up your stomach, nose crinkling at how cute your belly folds like this, how scared you look when you glance down and see his pierced length laying over your belly button. he’s massive and veiny, the tip almost purple with need. you can’t begin to imagine how all of that was going to fit inside you. like he was reading your mind, touya’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “it’ll fit. gonna hurt for a second, but then you’ll feel real good.” 

your anxious eyes flutter back down to his length, tears forming at the idea of that sharp metal along his shaft tearing through you. he grasps your jaw in one big hand again. 

“what’s a matter, babe? i thought you were a cockhungry slut?” he taunts, shaking his head at you. he can see the panic on your features while you look at his length. it’s adorable, the way your chin wobbles and your hips continue to squirm.

“not gonna fit, touy.” you sniffle and shake your head, letting your eyes drift back to the fiery blue ones towering over you. they flicker with amusement. “i don–don’ think i can do it.” 

“you’ll do it, and you’ll love it, and this’ll be our little secret, mkay?” he enthuses, sliding his hips along your soaked pussy. just his fingers had you dripping, and he thought it may not feel so bad for you after all–but the cruel voice inside him hopes it does. he makes you nod with his hand, but arches his brow. he wants to hear you say it. 

“our secret, i promise…” you nod, and he rewards you by patting your cheek with some amount of touya tenderness. 

“and…?”

“and i’ll take you…and i’ll–l-l–” he starts prodding his tip into your tight opening, biting his teeth to quell the moan that bubbles up at the way you clamp and he can hardly even get himself in there. he just knows it’s reflex, your face scrunched up in pain, tears sliding out of your eyes just at the first quarter of his cock. it’s too good, he has no choice but to sink the rest of the way in, eyes glowing at the way you paw and scratch at him, crying out loud and shaking your head at the feeling of being split wide open. it’s white hot and searing, feels foreign and like a huge rod sticking through your body, though that’s not too far off from the truth. he doesn’t give you much time to adjust, brutally shoving himself in and out of your buttery walls, your grip still choking. you wail and scream, clawing at the skin on his shoulders as your eyes fly open in shock. it hurts, it burns, it’s like that piercing was shoving your internal organs aside just to make more room. the tears trickling down your cheeks are almost as hot as the branding feeling in your gut, and he eats it all up.

“whatcha cryin’ for, doll? fits in you jus’ fine, told ya.” he grunts, every thought that crossed his mind about you so so justified. he knew keigo’s little sister would have the best fuckin’ pussy hiding under those tight pajama shorts and slutty miniskirts. he knew your body would take him like no one else, and he just knew you would look your prettiest crying over him. 

you sniffle, blinking through your cloudy vision to gaze up at the man plowing into you, his mouth was stretched into an almost evil giddy grin, the look in his eyes reminded you of the blue flames that licked up your skin earlier, making you shiver with something not even close to fear. the pain gives way to pleasure, or maybe you just start to enjoy the way he drives into you. it’s all so good; the bony smacks of his pelvis against the back of your thighs, and how he drapes his fingers over your clit to keep your hips jolting into his, his wild gaze flickering from your bouncing tits and the fat droplets rolling down your stained cheeks. he notices how your face melts into one of pleasure, causing him to snicker and lean in, that icy breath across your wet face. then it’s replaced by his wet tongue licking up the streaks with a loud moan that makes you tighten around him. 

of course your tears are salty, but they are oh so sweet to him. it’s way better than anything even his perverse imagination had provided him, you’ve got him completely sucked in, your hands now squeezing at his biceps, your little voice chanting out. he’s absolutely destroying you, and you’re loving it. even as his tongue drags up your face and over your lips, even when his kisses were rough and sloppy, you mewled at the feeling of it. you ran your hands along his face to plead for more of his mouth. his rutting is merciless, even coupled with the slight softness he shows in kissing you. his hands leave the backs of your thighs to slide under your ass, pulling your back down the couch to put you against the cushion instead of the correct posture you held previously, even with your legs by your ears. 

it lets him abuse your walls impossibly deeper, the sounds of his balls clapping into your ass alongside your wails had him twitching near the edge. he was so glad keigo was busy tonight, because you were going to be out of it for a while. his cock jumps again as you squeal and tighten, cumming all over him without any warning. he didn’t even know if you knew what you were experiencing to even tell him about it, and just that thought delights him again. tears pool in your pretty doe eyes once again. he grins, lifting your hips into his cock at a rate that will have him tired, but it’s worth it to hear those sounds, the way you moan his name and squeal while you blink your gorgeous tears away. 

“knew you was a slut the whole time, what did i say?” he grunts, trying to regain some composure against your magical cunt. to his surprise, you nod, and he thinks you must be so gone that he could do whatever he wanted to you—not that he couldn’t already. 

“mhm, your slut! jus’ for you though touya—never lied!” you squeal, feeling the tightening in your gut rapidly approaching again, this angle was far too intense, you couldn’t help it. so what you liked getting folded in half by your big brother’s best friend? if that makes you a whore, then you’d own it. 

your reply is so perfect he could shed tears of his own. you’re perfect, he just knew you were made to be his little toy. a girl like you had to be defiled by a guy like him, it was only right. and maybe this was his own kind of payback, the universe apologizing for the shitty life he’s had with a gorgeous teary-eyed doll wrapped around him like molded clay. 

“goddamn darlin’, you’re so fuckin’ sexy, wanna shoot my load in ya. you want that, yeah?” he groans, his lips quivering in a smirk at the sight of your vigorous nodding. who cares if you’re fucked out of your skull, he’s angry he can’t leave you bruised and branded beyond his cum oozing out of your newly ruined pussy. 

“yes! please, touy, it feels so good—wan’ more!” your legs are jelly, they’d be flopping all over the place if they didn’t rest on either one of his shoulders. well, who is he to deny a lady? with one more punishing slam, you feel the veins that endow him throb before the heat fuzzies your senses. he tastes that familiar tinge of iron, knowing he’s bit his lip so hard while emptying his balls that it’s started to bleed. his tongue soothes over it as he moves his hips a few more times, gentler, but still shoving his deposit deeper and deeper, intent to make sure you keep some of it. his heart was pounding in his ears, chest heaving as he tried to get everything under control. he smirks, leaning back over you to reward your performance with another harsh kiss, his hand smooshing your cheeks together to make you pucker. he laughs at you little tired whimpers, standing back up with a sigh. he had every intention of taking good care of you, wanting to take you to the shower and take you again in there, but help clean you up. you had to be presentable for keigo’s return, after all. he would even risk staying in your room, maybe sitting with you until you fell asleep, reminding you one last time that you this stayed between the two of you. 

the sharp scarlet feather aimed at his throat tells him he doesn’t have to worry about getting caught later. he feels several more sharp edges against his back, and then keigo comes into view. you’re shrieking and lunging for touya’s coat, shaking your head at your brother. you knew he would be disappointed but you definitely didn’t expect your elder to hurt him. 

touya chuckles deeply, pouting at his friend. “aw, keigs! better me th’n anyone else, yeah? and she just loved it, ask her!” he juts his chin out towards you, not missing the murderous intent in his friend’s glare. keigo’s eyes flicker over to you, and he makes sure to keep his eyes on your face. 

“am i killing him or just mild torture?” he asks you, raising a brow. 

“d-don’t hurt him, i..wanted to!” you defend, starting to tear up at all the drama, at the prospect of your brother hurting the man that just rocked your world. and damn if you didn’t look so adorable, all pouty and teary, pleading for touya to be spared. he giggles as his cock starts to harden again at the sight of your bleary eyes, his hand flying up to hold the ache. now that keigo was here, nothing would get past him. his eyes narrow at his friend and he points to his room. 

“go sit. we need to talk.” you could almost see flames of his own surrounding him as he spits out the threat, but  touya still winks at you and slinks off to endure his punishment.

[ectologia]

TERNARY

TOMURA SHIGARAKI + FEMALE READER + DABI

WARNING: DUBCON/NONCON, CLIT TORTURE, GENITAL SPANKING, ANAL FINGERING, MALE MASTURBATION, THREESOME, CREAMPIE, HUMILIATION, MOCKING, SLIGHT GORE, MENTION OF TORTURE METHODS, PROFANITY, SLIGHT DABI X SHIGARAKI?

“Come out, come out..” Shigaraki sing-songs, shuffling against the moist gravel. “Where the fu— Dabi!”

“Mm.” Dabi hums, hand lax in his pocket while the other occupies a smouldering cigarette, pinched between his ashen finger-tips.

Shigaraki snarls a groan from the back of his throat. “Stop stroking your dick and come help me, you moron.”

“What’s the fuckin’ point? She’s probably long gone by now.” Dabi shrugs, making no attempt to gather himself. “And does it really matter? It’s just one chick, what’s she gonna d—”

Shigaraki spikes, shoulders prickling as he lurches towards Dabi. “What’s she gonna do?” He scoffs. “Tell those fuckin’ bastardin’ heroes where our base is, that’s fuckin’ what! I’m starting to think I should reconsider putting you second in command if you’re just gon—”

Dabi throws his hands up, feigning an apologetic frown. “Alright, alright! ..Damn.” He brings the smoked pick back down to the seam of his lips, inhaling until a puff of smog rolls out of his nostrils. “I was just kidding, Boss.” He smirks from beneath his clutch of scarred knuckles.

Shigaraki eyeballs Dabi with a flat face. “Dumb-ass.” He swats Dabi on the back of the head, a bit to strongly for his liking once the cigarette previously perched between his fingers is flung onto the sludge-stained pavement.

“Nice one.” Dabi huffs with an audible breath, shuffling through his pockets for another. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to be a li—”

“Shh. Shut the fuck up.” Shigaraki hisses, pressing his index to the petals of his flaking lips. “I just heard something.”

The two stand, frozen in ear-splitting silence.

Both pairs of eyes meet, knotted and furrowed as Dabi’s arm suddenly darts out, snatching at the blackened void.

“Ah, now would ya’ look at that.”

You yelp once a mangled hand swipes at your neck, clamping down and holding you in place.

“You were right Boss, little shit was hiding here all along.” Dabi snickers, jostling your shaken form like a hunter vaunting it’s kill.

Shigaraki rolls his eyes at his comrades witty intimations, eyeing the tiny thing hanging from his clutches.

He clicks his tongue, re-adjusting Father’s thumb across his cheek-bone. “Sneaky little bitch.”

You’re bound and stiff, eyes wide and jaw locked in your shell-shocked petrification.

“What do you wanna’ do to her first?” Dabi drawls, tilting his chin down to look at you with a wicked grin. “Break her legs? Skin ‘er? Blood-eagle?”

“Hm..” Shigaraki hums, tapping a thumb against his chin. You’re spun once, twice to get all the best angles as they inspect your physique. “I mean.. It’d be a shame to let her go to waste.”

Dabi smirks, darting an intrigued brow upwards. “Oh, yeah?”

Shigaraki’s tongue slips out to wet his parched lips. “Yeah.”

“Mmh.. What a messy pup.”

Dabi coos, tracing the rim of your clit’s hood with his middle-finger. He has your nerves standing to attention every time the abrasive digit dabs against your stiff nub.

“Look how hard that little clitty is.” Shigaraki chuckles, toeing your pussy with the tip of his shoe, nudging Dabi’s marred knuckles in the process. “Could probably jerk it if you wanted to.”

“Yeah?” He tweaks the thin layer of skin surrounding the vulnerable dot, bending your thighs back further in the process. “Wanna’ try?” He swirls his tongue along the crevice of your ear, spitting into it as he croons.

“Please, let me g— Mmph!”

“Ah.” Your pleas are soon cut off by the wrinkled texture of Dabi’s palm. “I don’t wanna’ hear any cryin’ or whinging now, a’ight?”

Shigaraki sneers, squatting down to replace Dabi’s cold, stapled flesh with his own.

He pinches your clit between his crooked fingers, grinding and tweaking the tiny seed, while Dabi bounces you on his knee like a child to soothe your oncoming fit.

“See? this is what happens..” Shigaraki spits with a bitter smile. “This is what happens — when nosy little bitches like you can’t mind their own fuckin’ business.”

He pulls his arm back, tugging your tiny, quivering clit along with him until the stretched skin snaps back into place at the crest of your pudgy pussy.

Your raw cunt earns a sloppy, half-hearted spank from the hard heel of his hand, noticeably avoidant to catch you with his surely destructive finger-tips.

“Hey, woah, woah. Who said you get first dibs?” Dabi splutters, pressing your knees back together almost defensively once he sees the shimmering glare of Shigaraki’s belt buckle.

“I did.” Shigaraki grunts, clumsily rooting around inside the pouch of his stained boxers before pulling out the sluggish length of his pink-tipped cock. He’s flaccid, smooth layers of pale-porcelain skin wrinkled and folded against the chubby softness of his un-cut dick.

“You ain’t even hard yet, you shmuck.” Dabi sniggers, abiding his time by twiddling and flicking at your labia.

“Shut the fuck up. Just gimme’ a sec..”

“No way, I ain’t sittin’ here to watch you rub on your lil’ love-stick.” Dabi peers down at you through his leaden eyelashes. “We wanna’ have some fun, don’t we babe?” He smooshes the pudge of your cheeks, scrunching your lips into a pucker. He snorts, sticking his tongue out to engulf the cavity in a wet-hot kiss. “Mmh..” He swirls the leacherous muscle around and around your teeth, bobbing his head as though he was trying to suck out your soul like a dementor.

“Hey, knock it off. We’re not here to play house.” Shigaraki stutters through his raspy chokes, jabbing at his limply-hanging cock.

Dabi smiles as he retreats, smearing a muggy trail of saliva across your chin all the way to the tippy top of your nose, flicking off at the soft cartilage.

“Was just introducing myself, Boss.”

“You don’t need to introduce yourself.” Shigaraki bites.

“Awh..” Dabi coos. “Big bad villian can’t get his teeny weeny hard?”

He expects Shigaraki to explode into a feral ball of flames at this, only to be met with something much more mellow and.. down-right — timid.

“Do something..”

“What?”

Shigaraki clicks his tongue and huffs. “Do something.. Finger her or some shit..”

“Oh.”

Dabi’s struck dumb, but only for a short moment — before he’s bouncing back to his usual unperturbed and snarky demeanour.

“Well then.. let’s get down to business. What’re we feeling, you little rat? Twat or ass?”

You shiver in Dabi’s lap, the sporadic jolts of your spine spiking every-time the dewy humidity of his breath blows over your nape.

“Only kidding Babe.” Dabi smiles, a wide, wolfish, toothy grin, reaching no further than the dimples of his cheeks, half-lidded eyes set purely on the little patch of flesh below your navel. “I’m choosing.”

“Holy fuck!”

Shigaraki jerks his — now, fully erect cock. Striding up the sweaty length to halt just at the ridge of his pumped mushroom-tip, shiny with a sheen of smeared pre-cum. The tiny slip of pink peeks through his curled hand every time his fist bobs, fapping away at his chubbed up prick while his second set of fingers make themselves useful by rolling and fondling his tightened ball-sack.

“Yeah? You likin’ the show Boss-man?” Dabi’s nose crinkles from the force of his own boyish laughter, tapping your left ass-cheek for the 8th time, just to watch the squishy dough ripple around his stapled wrist.

The scrunched rim of your taught asshole barely has enough room to encompass all three of the fingers Dabi persistently tries to stuff in, shuffling and flexing the digits inside your gummy walls to engage you into a more flexible position.

“Fuck me, look at that butt.” He jerks his elbow forward, impaling you further on top of the jagged bumps of his torn knuckles.

“Ah!” It’s a guttural cry of pain that escapes your hoarse throat, bent at an angle with your stomach pressed across Dabi’s lap, consistently jouncing along his thigh at every attempted means of escape.

“Ooh, yeah.” Dabi croaks through his grit teeth, puffing from the back of his throat once he sees how the smooth curvature of your back arches as he prods at your asshole with a forth digit. “You bouncin’ that ass back for me?”

“Yeah she is, look at her.” Shigaraki can’t help but invite himself into the conversation, leaning back further against the porous red-bricks for support. “Stick her another one Dabi, I wanna’ see blood.”

“Another one? You want another one?”

“No!” You squeal.

“Yeah you do.”

Dabi hooks his left thumb around the puckered hole, stretching you open further to dig a fourth finger into the cramped space.

“Shit, yeah — I like that.” Shigaraki nods in approval as he pumps his massive dick, anchoring from his wrist to his shoulder as he squeezes his plump cock-head.

He thrusts himself off of the wall, waddling over to the scene with his jeans bandaging his thighs together.

“Uh oh.” Dabi mocks, almost giddy once he sees how frantic Shigaraki’s strokes become, huffing with humid cotton-balled clouds of steam.

“Mmh.. want..” He staggers, almost losing his balance before stationing his forearm next to Dabi’s streaked mane of ink. “Pussy.. lemme’ see her twat..”

Instead of directing your stance by your waist, Dabi deems it appropriate to use the hooked fingers clenched inside your back-pussy as a handle, pulling your little ass up into a painful arch by the tiny hole, almost tearing you through the middle on his metallic spikes in the process.

“She’s all yours.” Dabi hollers at his Boss.

“Shut your mouth, stupid cunt.”

A pair of grimy fingers slither down towards your puffed up folds, while a third taps away at your ticklish little clit. He’s no longer aiming the head of his dick at himself, but rather the penny-sized hole left unoccupied below your taint.

His hand drops in favour of clutching your stomach, clawing and grappling with the squidgy meat as he rubs his penis through the slicked up gash.

Dabi’s satisfied with just observing, perching his chin atop your shoulder to visualise how your tiny cunny is gonna take his Boss’s fat, steaming horse-cock.

“Agh! Mmh — Mmh — Shit!”

Or not..

He chooses not to mention the strings of semen shooting against the denim of his jeans, in favour of keeping his head.

Or the same blobs of pearlescent coating dribbling out of your fuckable pussy-hole, left to waste after being soiled by Shigaraki’s acerbic spunk.

Dabi makes no effort to move until he’s sure the low-hanging set of balls swinging against his knee have come to a slow waltz, rocking leisurely beneath Shigaraki’s girth.

“Was that good, you little freak?”

Shigaraki’s unsure if Dabi’s talking to you or him, uncaring enough to ask as he basks in the glowy state of his post-nut glory.

It’s surprising how long it takes for the two men to recognise the faint sniffling smudged into the leather of Dabi’s shoulder, opaque spots of crystalline tears seeping into the veined material.

Dabi juts his bottom lip out, mocking your timid warbling. “Awh, you made her cry Shiggy.”

Shigaraki rolls his eyes, swivelling as he stuffs his cock and balls back into the pocket of his ratty underwear.

“She’ll get over it.”

[animeomegas]

Ideal Valentines Day - Omega! Aizawa, Mic, Toshinori, Dabi

A/N: For the anon who asked <3 I wasn't vibing with Shiggy today, so I left him off. I feel like these all ended up being home dates, but I think being a hero or villain makes those easier lol. There are hints of n-sfw, but it's non-descriptive and very tame.

Aizawa

Actions speak louder than words for Aizawa, and I think his preferred love language for receiving affection is Acts of Service.

He has no need for material items, and that goes doubly for anything covered in hearts. I don't think he's a massive fan of chocolate. And flowers are just another thing that he has to sort out and try to keep alive as long as he can. No, he much prefers practical care on Valentine's day.

He wants you to pick him up from UA after work so he doesn't have to drive, a warm cup of his favourite coffee, far sweeter than his image would suggest, ready for him.

He wants to go straight home of course. When he walks through the door, he would love to see the house sparkling clean and tidy. It lifts a burden off him that he didn't even know was there.

There's no fancy outfits with him. He wants to immediately get changed into the comfiest clothes he has, and he would love if you did the same.

Dinner should 100% be his favourite takeaway, eaten on the couch, of course.

I don't know why, but I don't get the vibe that Aizawa is that interested in sex on Valentines Day. I think he'd prefer the intimacy to come from a shared bath or a massage.

And ideally the night ends early, so he can face tomorrow well rested, for once in his life.

Mic

Hizashi loves cheesy romance, he lives for cheesy romance! He eats, sleeps, and breathes it!

I think receiving gifts is something he loves, so get him a pink teddy bear, get him a comically oversized chocolate bar, get him a sappy card filled with cheesy love poems (bonus if you write them yourself.) He loves it all.

He also wants to be at home, because he's worried about people recognising him and interrupting the date.

He would love, love, love if he came home to a trail of rose petals to follow, he's always wanted to do that!

I think he'd enjoy cooking dinner together, just making a mess, playing around, listening to music.

Please pull him to dance with you, he will melt.

Once the food is eaten and the mess left for tomorrow, I think he'd want to do some sort of activity. A board game, a video game, painting together, anything! He's having fun as long as he's with you.

And then... well he's certainly not going to complain if one of your gifts to him was lingerie or a new 'toy'. And it would be rude to not try them out 😏

Toshinori

His idea of romance is old school. He developed his taste mostly from films, rather than experience, after all.

He wants roses so badly. He can't decide if it's more romantic to get a dozen roses, or just one, so he'll let you decide.

I think something private would be more meaningful to him because he's spent his life in the spotlight.

He wants you to meet him at the door with a rose/bouquet of roses, and then lead him into the living room of your home, where you've laid out a fancy dinner.

He wants the fancy dinner table to be set to the nines, he wants candles, champagne, and some food that he can eat. He wants classical music playing in the background.

And then he wants you to pull out his chair for him and wine and dine him until he's completely smitten, not that that's hard.

He doesn't mind if you order the food, but he'd prefer if you either made it by hand, or had it ordered from a special place as opposed to just off a food delivery app. He wants everything to feel special.

The best way to finish the night after dinner is with a movie. One of his favourite films, probably a ridiculous American action film or terrible romcom.

He needs some good old fashioned cuddling at the same time of course.

And because he's getting old, he wants to spend the final moments of the day tucked up in bed, talking about feelings and the future, and all the fuzzy things you're both looking forward to in your relationship.

Dabi

Dabi is softer than he will admit, which means Valentines Day with him involved tricking him into feeling loved.

You can't do things that are too typical, because he'll get spooked. If he comes home and sees heart shaped balloons or dozens of roses, he will flee the scene.

Luckily, he is utterly weak for pizza, so if he comes home and you've ordered his favourite pizza and got a video game/film set up, he can't resist.

"This isn't some weird Valentine's shit, is it?"

"It's just pizza, Dabi, but if you don't want any, I'll eat it all."

"What? In your dreams, knothead."

Once you've lulled him in with pizza and games, you can start putting the moves on him.

He's almost always down for sex, so that part is easy. The hard part is stopping him from escalating it into something rougher, and keeping it gentle.

He gets frustrated at first that you're being too soft on him, and it's at this point that you start lavishing him in praise and body worship. His frustration turns into bashfulness and Dabi gets kind of shy.

Let him know how much you love him.

And then, right when you're both about to drift off, wish him a Happy Valentine's Day.