#i would've needed this precisely one week ago and maybe i would've graduated with honours.

[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 out.

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."