#literally all you need to do to defeat dabi is pet his head and go 'awww my poor little meow meow who's never done anything wrong'

[lgbtlunaverse]

There is a good reason to woobify dabi and it's that he'd hate it and annoying dabi is always a morally correct thing to do.

[inkykeiji]

sapphire and gold

characters: dabi, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut

notes: for @babyy-bunnii and @kirispiracy! inspired by a text i sent my best friend lmao. i considered using the name touya instead of dabi, but i didn’t want anyone to get confused with the touya characterization i’ve already got going on, so!! we’ll just use dabi.

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), threesome, slight degradation, drug use (weed), dubcon/noncon, blowjobs/face-fucking (kinda implied???)

words: 2.2k

synopsis:

You nod, laughing a little and rubbing your face against his shoulder like a cat. He smells so good—has he always smelled this good? It’s making your mouth water—does he taste as good as he smells?

Would you like to find out, songbird?

Blinking slowly, you look up at him, eyebrows furrowing a little as you try to focus on his face. Did he just read your mind? Did he just speak to you through telepathy?

He’s gazing down at you with half-lidded golden eyes and a lazy smirk.

“You’re real cute, you know?” he looks up. “Dabi, bro, she’s really cute,”

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“Please, niichan?” you’re using that high, whiny voice, the one you use when you’re begging for something, the one that really gets under his fucking skin, that he can’t stand, unless his cock’s buried inside you. “I’ll be good, promise!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “The answer’s still no, sweetheart,”

“Ugh,” you groan, plopping down on his bed heavily as your lips push out into an adorable pout. “This is so unfair! You’re literally kicking me out of my own house. At least let me stay in my bedroom, I’ll—”

“Except you won’t,” he bites, sapphire eyes cold as he glares at you over his shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon,” Keigo collapses on the bed beside you, making your body jiggle a little and placing a large palm on your back, petting. “What’s the harm in letting her stay? She’s of age now,” he turns towards you. “You’re legal, aren’t you?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“And do you want to spend the entire night babysitting her?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Keigo responds with an easy smirk and a quirk of his eyebrows, expression steadfast even in the face of the fierce glare Dabi shoots him.

“Oh, Christ,” Dabi sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

“See—”

“No.” he snaps firmly. His eyes burn into yours, stare so intense it almost hurts. But then your chin begins to tremble, and your eyes glaze over with a thick barrier of tears, and you’re starting to make those cute little half-sniffle, half-whimper noises, and he blanches.  

No, not the tears—please, anything but the tears.

“But I j-just—” your chest hitches. “Just wanna spend a lil time with you, s’all,” Keigo coos to your left, sharp cobalt eyes darting to him, narrowed and seething. “Jus’wanna be with you for a bit, th-that’s it,”

And he can see it, the painful sincerity in your eyes, can see it in the way your nose twitches and your chest hiccups, in the way you bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

Sometimes, he wishes you weren’t so goddamn genuine.

“C’mere,” he’s sighing with a defeated nod of his head, and you’re bouncing up before he’s even finished speaking. He shares a quick look with Keigo, who nods and takes that as his cue to leave, closing the bedroom door softly behind himself. “You’re such a brat, y’know that?”

“Mm, but I’m your brat,” you mumble into his chest, nuzzling against him.

“You can stay on one condition,” he begins, you looking up at him and batting your shining eyes in question, remnants of tears decorating your eyelashes. “I don’t want you leaving my sight, do you hear me? Wherever I go, you fucking go, got it?”

“Deal,” you agree readily, fingers tangling in his shirt as you pull yourself closer. He sighs again, and you can tell he isn’t happy about it, isn’t happy about allowing you to stay, isn’t happy about his inability to say no to his darling baby sister.

But every word of what you said is true—you just started your third year of university, and it’s taking up more of your time than you initially expected. Feels like you barely see him anymore, you’re whining into his chest, tears beginning to burn your eyes again. It’s not fair for him to kick you out of the house on one of the rare weekends you have free.

He can’t argue with that. It isn’t like he doesn’t want you around—he does; he’s missed you too, you know, even though it would be like pulling teeth to get him to admit it. It’s that he doesn’t want you around his friends. They’re sleazy, gross degenerates, absolute dirtbags, and they don’t deserve to be in the presence of his precious, pure angel.

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There are so many people—too many people—crowding your living room, so many unfamiliar faces you’ve never seen before, and you curl into your big brother, fingers knotting in his white t-shirt as curious, wide eyes drink in the scene around you. Dabi smirks, looking down at you and giving your shoulder a squeeze, a tiny bit too hard. You jump and pout up at him, and he laughs, eyes glittering.

The majority of the night is spent in his lap, leaning back against his chest as large hands idly rub gentle circles into your hips, fingers wandering up and down your thighs in nonchalant caresses as he talks languidly to his friends, and it’s just teasing enough to have you wanting more.

Many of the people surrounding you frighten you a little, and you pretend not to hear some of the girls’ obnoxious whispers as they pass by; they look a little close for step-siblings, don’t they?, opting to snuggle into your niichan instead. It’s cozy and familiar, a sharp pang searing through your chest when one of his hands moves to caress your hair, readjusting you a little in his lap and holding you tighter.

There’s a part of you that wishes he didn’t have this party at all, that wishes it was just the two of you, since it seems like you rarely get moments like that anymore. You would’ve rather spent the weekend your parents were away getting pounded into his mattress for two days straight, or fucking in the kitchen and the shower, spending the duration of the time they’re gone in nothing but his hoodie—no panties allowed, of course—like you used to any time they took a vacation.

But you can’t be selfish—you’ll take what you can get.

The living room’s hazy now, thick with smoke, diffusing the light shining from the lamps and making everything look softer. Everyone around you looks so loose, so relaxed, so cool as they exhale clouds of smoke. Restless, you wiggle a little and pout, whining against Dabi’s neck that you feel left out, that you just want a little, please?

You can hear some of his friends giggling, and it only makes you more embarrassed, heat rushing to your cheeks as you squirm in his lap and nuzzle into him.

A soft groan vibrates in his chest and Christ, he thinks, you’ve got to be doing that on purpose, grinding right up against his cock as you blink your eyes up at him, begging for a hit.

He won’t allow it, of course. No, if you want some, you gotta take it from his mouth, and his mouth only.

It doesn’t matter that there’s a ton of people around, a few of them staring incredulously as they murmur things behind their hands—he doesn’t fucking care.

Fingers thread through the hair at the back of your head, holding you still as he brings his face close to yours. Your mouth falls open immediately, obediently, and you can see the laughter dancing in his eyes at how pathetically eager you are.

It isn’t as difficult as you worried it might be, concentrating hard to inhale the smoke he’s slowly blowing into your mouth at the same speed that he’s exhaling it.

He tells you to hold it in for a moment, and you cough a little, not used to smoke in your lungs. Dabi’s looking down at you with shining, half-lidded eyes, ebony pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

“Again?” he asks, amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yes, please,”

He only does it three times, claims that that’s more than enough, and then he’s getting up, shifting out from under you and depositing you half in keigo’s lap, who laughs as he adjusts you to sit more upright.

You’re not even that high—not really, just a lil floaty, you think, and you kinda can’t stop giggling. It’s just that Keigo is so pretty, you just wanna be a little closer to him, wiggling into his lap completely, and everything he says is hilarious—but Keigo’s always been so funny.

“Feeling good, pretty girl?”

You nod, laughing a little and rubbing your face against his shoulder like a cat. He smells so good—has he always smelled this good? It’s making your mouth water—does he taste as good as he smells?

Would you like to find out, songbird?

Blinking slowly, you look up at him, eyebrows furrowing a little as you try to focus on his face. Did he just read your mind? Did he just speak to you through telepathy?

He’s gazing down at you with half-lidded golden eyes and a lazy smirk.

“You’re real cute, you know?” he looks up. “Dabi, bro, she’s really cute,”

Niichan’s back? You whimper for him, making grabby hands, but his eyes are narrowed as they dart between the two of you suspiciously.

She asked to taste me,

Did she now?

“Niichan,” you pout, whining out the word. It isn’t fair—you’ve barely had his full attention all night, and now he’s too far, much too far, and you tell him so—or at least, you think you do, because then he’s scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to his bedroom and—and is Keigo coming, too?

Niichan is talking, you know he is, can feel his deep voice vibrating against your body, though you’re having trouble concentrating on his words, especially when hiccupped giggles keep escaping your lips without your permission, drowning him out.

Niichan’s gonna share you tonight, okay? Only for tonight, princess, he’s saying as he lays you down on his bed. Two cocks should satisfy your insatiable need for attention, right, baby?

You hum in response, nodding your head a little, even though you’re not exactly sure what you’re agreeing to. But it doesn’t matter; you don’t really care to question it as tender hands—two pairs of tender hands—are removing your dress and panties, fingertips grazing your skin and leaving chills in their wake.

All you know is that everything just feels nice. Their fingers on your skin, in your mouth, in your pussy, it all feels so nice.

“Good, feels so good,” you’re whimpering around the two fingers stuffed in your mouth. You suck experimentally, giggling a little when a moan sounds from somewhere in the room. Someone praises you for being a good little whore, for drooling all over their fingers so well as they slip into your cunt with ease.

“Feels—” you cut yourself off with a gasp. “Good,”

Yeah, I bet it does,

That’s niichan, you think. Sounds a lot like him, but it’s hard to tell when knuckles are curling inside of you, and your little hole is fluttering, and someone’s playing with your clit, and God, her pussy’s so cute, dude.

You’re whining a little now that your mouth is empty, body arching off the bed just a bit, and aw, no, baby. Do you need something to suck on?

Hands are on you again, flipping you over and forcing you to hold yourself up on all fours. The head of a cock—a pretty cock, all smooth and velvety with a few prominent veins and a pretty pink tip—is nudging against your lips, your mouth falling open automatically. Someone praises you again and you preen, giggling around the cock stuffed in your mouth, a pleasant warmth spreading through your body.

Something’s pressing into your cute little cunt now, too, a soft groan sounding from somewhere behind you as nimble fingers flex on your hips, keeping you still as your hole stretches.

A moan gets caught in your chest, partially silenced by the cock now being thrust down your throat, hard, fast, rough, fingers knotted in your hair pulling as they force you to move your head.

But whoever it is in front of you—yes, it must be Keigo, niichan doesn’t taste like this, is just a hint thicker than this—doesn’t last long, cock shoved in your mouth throbbing as it spurts ropes of white down your throat. You’re choking a little as strong hands hold your head still, all wrapped up in your hair, but you’re doing so well, songbird and God, you’re so hot.

You’re mumbling something, drool and cum dribbling down your chin, though you’re pretty sure you swallowed most of it. Gold, shimmering, blazing gold, settles in front of you, cooing gently as fingertips clean your mouth and then mildly begin massaging your jaw, a stark contrast to the hips slamming into you from behind.

It feels good, so good, but it’s so much, too much, overwhelming your senses and making your head feel like it’s spinning, soft little moans falling from your lips as your niichan’s cockhead drags against that spot over and over, vision completely whiting out as your pussy clenches around him.

And then he’s asking you if you want his cum, and you’re babbling a little; yes niichan, of course you want to be filled up, yes please niichan, wanna be full from both ends, and yes niichan, I want your cum, I want so much cum, I want it leaking out of every orifice of my body.

Fuck, the word’s spit out brokenly as his hips stutter, cock pulsing inside of you as it fills you with hot, thick cum, and it’s so much, you’re sure it has to be leaking out of you, glazing your inner thighs.

Pain sears through your body, a special type of agony that burrows into your muscles and bones, that has you whining as someone pulls you against their heaving chest, fingers combing through sweaty hair. Your jaw is sore, hips bruised, pussy aching just a little, but you were such a good girl for your niichan, and that’s all that matters.