why tf the genei ryodan walking to york new thru a fucking desert. hisoka rents a private plane. they’ve stolen millions of jenny. get a fuckignn train ticket
summary: over the years it’s become easier to keep your feelings for your boss quiet but when he asked you to pose as his date during a mission your facade becomes much less convincing.
w/c: 7569
tags: mutual pining, exhibitionism, closet sex, excessive use of pet names
notes: jesus chriiiisst this took a million years. totally worth it tho. this was a request from @ddarker-dreams so thanks for the idea u jerk ily.
The Yul National Treasury was one of the most renowned institutions the world had ever seen, reopening as the new pride and joy of the nation of Yul. It was a small province that had just come into some serious money after its two neighboring countries had gone to war, profiting from both sides.
Its ruler, Markus Ano, was drunk on the power that had evaded him all his life, wasting away royalties on lavish parties to flaunt the wealth he’d accumulated. Tonight would be the biggest one yet, as the country’s fearless leader had just signed a contract meant to expand Yul’s borders and planned to celebrate accordingly. But, unlike his other galas, it wasn’t being held at his mansion. It was being held at the treasury.
You almost hadn’t believed Chrollo when he told you. Why would the supreme leader host a party there, where priceless artifacts and deeds of cash flow would be so ripe for the taking?
“It’s a brazen act of confidence,” Your boss had explained, “a flimsy attempt to make himself seem credible to the other world’s leaders. He’s daring any mercenary groups to crash the party.”
Shalnark’s eyebrows furrowed, his expression clear from the glow on his phone screen in the decrepit building, “Why would Ano want that?”
“To be taken seriously. If his military can fend off any attackers he believes it will increase his social standing with the other government officials.”
That made you confused. Chrollo had specifically called the Troupe’s recon members to Yul but from what your boss said it sounded like they were expecting a fight. Looking across the dimly lit building you saw the silhouettes of Machi, Paku, and Shalnark all wondering the same thing.
Your boss, insightful as ever, answered that unasked question, “We won’t be getting in there by force. If we try to barge our way in they’ll relocate the goods far before we find them. Our only option is to infiltrate the gala,” Chrollo held up four envelopes to the moonlight, each sealed in a garish purple wax, “Shalnark will provide support from here and the rest of us will pose as guests,”
His gaze focused on the blonde manipulator, “Can you access the hunter website to find out who the captains of the security team are?”
“Consider it done.”
“Excellent. Pakunoda will track down the captain and learn where they’re keeping our target. It’s either stored in one of the safes below the ballroom or somewhere else in the building.”
He called back the attention of the two women in the back of the room, “Machi, Paku, you will both arrive together. I assume your nen will be enough to restrain the guard silently?” He asked, gesturing towards Machi specifically. She didn’t say anything, just gave him a curt nod.
You willed your voice not to break as you spoke, “Um.. boss?” Keeping a level gaze with Chrollo when his wide, dark eyes flickered over to yours was more than a challenge, “what are we stealing?”
He smiled, and your treacherous heart skipped a scattered beat.
“The last physical copy of a greek play hand-written by Homer himself. The Illiad. Some collectors would pay billions for just a chance to see it and it’s by far the supreme leader’s most priceless artifact at the treasury.” Everything started to click into place and you had to fight off a grin at the mention of your boss’ favorite thing to steal. Old books.
You nodded, bowing a bit further than necessary in an attempt to avoid his stare, “Understood.”
“Oh, and one other thing..” The sound of Chrollo saying your name was something you never heard often enough, the rarity only making it sweeter on your ears.
“Yes, sir?”
“You’ll be posing as my date for the gala. You and I will retrieve the play by ourselves.” If you weren’t turned to stone under his scrutiny you’re sure the panic would’ve been much more evident on your face.
It was immature to say you had a “crush on your boss,” but you absolutely did. Ever since you joined four years ago you couldn’t help but find him fascinating, and just a tiny bit attractive. But despite everything you were loyal to the Troupe first and foremost, you couldn’t let yourself get caught up in your emotions like some kind of schoolgirl.
Heart racketing against your chest, you found the nerve to speak, “Understood, sir.”
“Alright, we’ll leave for the party tomorrow after sunset. Meet me back here well before then so we can go over the details.”
The four of you all turned to leave, but the sound of Chrollo saying your name froze you mid-step, “Stay a bit longer. I need to discuss your plan for tomorrow now, if you don’t mind.”
Mutely, you nodded, and once the other three spiders had left the abandoned building you both stood in felt much smaller. A wisp of a smile fell over his face as he turned away from you to walk over to the hotel closet, the paneling chipped off from years of neglect. With a slightly dramatic flourish he drew back the door, watching the way your eyes widened.
A slim, black dress hung on a satin hook, layered with some kind of velvet lace at the ends that would trail to your thighs. You looked from the dress to Chrollo then back again, stuttering out a quick, “Thank.. you? Sir, I—“
“You don’t have to call me that, you know.”
You stayed silent, head a bit tilted in confusion, “Call you what?”
He nimbly took the dress from its hook, his approach towards you slow, the floorboards underneath him creaking with each hesitant step, “For this mission I’d be best if you called me Chrollo.”
The blush that wracked your cheeks was so prominent it was hard for Chrollo to not pity your embarrassment as you tried to string the syllables of his name together.
His fingers deftly grazed your shoulder as he held up the straps to your collarbone, humming in approval once he saw he’d matched your right size with what he bought, eyes and touch wandering over your skin a bit too long before pulling away, leaving the dress clutched in your hands.
Unwittingly, your eyes flickered towards his lips, indulging in your weakness briefly before looking away and stepping a few feet back, the distance between you far too close for comfort.
“Thank you, bo— Chrollo,” You corrected, trying to stare at anything but him, “I should.. should get going now,” Your grip on his present was tight as you sped past him, the hurry in your steps not lost on him as you fled, a smirk you couldn’t see lacing his face as you scurried away.
The Yul National Treasury was three stories high, five if you counted the two floors of hidden safes tucked into the earth below. You’d seen places that had taken your breath away as you travelled with the spiders, your recon skills making you more suited to this kind of espionage, but the luxury never failed to catch you off guard compared to the conditions you were used to.
This one might leave them all behind. The walls were a peachy stone all lined with silver plating and gilded archways. Balconies were filled with smiling socialites spilling their champagne as they laughed. The entryway was illuminated by hanging lights that draped from window to window, all along the branches and archways. The lights even strung around the armed guard towers clearly manned with machine guns, illuminating the polished weaponry for all to see.
‘You can do this, It’s just a mission,’ You drilled that thought into your head as you toyed with the ends of the pitch fabric.
You had arrived at the venue with Paku, the two of you going your separate ways as she reconvened with Machi, leaving you at the entrance to the party to wait for your boss.
Whenever he himself participated in a mission he sometimes arrived fashionably late, so you weren’t all that concerned. The night was peaceful, a waning moon barely illuminating the dark foliage that surrounded the pathway towards the party and it was easy to get distracted in the lull of the evening.
“You look beautiful,” The voice made your head shoot up, looking to see Chrollo, a soft smile on his face and arm outstretched towards you, “are you ready?”
As you locked one hand around him you clawed your fingernails into the other, desperately hoping the pain would distract your body from the pounding of your chest. The walk to the front door felt longer that it was, your doubts eating away at every inch of your nerves, each step somehow felt inadequate to your self-sabotaging brain.
Before you could follow that rabbit hole any longer you had arrived, the opened doors to the gala manned by about thirty guards, all using normal guns as far as you could tell. Chrollo handed one of the soldiers his two wax-dipped invitations, cracking the seals and glancing over each of their credentials. They must’ve been legitimate invites or damn good forgeries because the soldier stepped back, giving his man the go-ahead to let you both through.
If the outside was impressive the interior was even more so, with curved marble staircases leading away from the main ballroom and those same strings of light connecting to the ceiling like webs. The other attendants had clearly dressed to impress, with pearls and expensive silk all bleeding from their gowns and suits. Ironically enough, although both you and Chrollo had worn relatively simple black numbers for the event, the two of you had stolen enough wealth over the years to buy whatever these aristocrats were wearing twenty times over, but none of them suspected a thing.
The silence between the two of you was deafening, especially under the chattering voices of the crowd, only broken when your boss nodded towards your 3 o'clock, “There.”
In the far back of the room was a man wearing a golden coat adorned with countless medals and pins that you suspect he hadn’t actually won, his arms slung around two girls who were both clearly feigning interest in whatever the man had to say.
You recognized him from the debriefing immediately to be Markus Ano, the supreme leader of Yul.
“Go.” Chrollo whispered that last part into your ear, a shiver going down your spine.
Once you were away from your crush it was far easier to keep a clear head, taking a few deep breaths and fully summoning your nen as you strode towards your target.
When you joined the Troupe all those years ago Phinks had joked how your abilities were, in his words, “A man’s worst nightmare.” As soon as you entered the building your En had begun to slowly spread throughout the entire room. In simple terms, once your En had filled a room you could activate your ability on anyone, simple eye contact being all it takes to make them ever-more perceptible to your will. The caveat being that if they looked away from you, your influence over them would slowly fade away.
‘Its effects should be strong enough by now,’ You decided, the distance between you and the leader’s not-so-secret bodyguards disguised as nearby guests growing smaller by the second.
“Hold it,” One of his guards stopped you, his grip tight on your upper arm before slacking as you gave him a doe-eyed look.
“Please sir, I’d love to meet the Supreme leader, if it’s alright?” It was admittedly funny how fast the guard nodded, guiding you gently over to his boss’ side.
The ruler was watching the two of you from his gilded couch, interest piqued as he glowered over your body, “And who might you be?”
You gave him the most polite bow you could, the custom common in Yul, leaving him unabashedly staring at your chest; the gross sensation it inspired in your gut all too familiar by now. You’re not even sure he heard your fake name when you told him.
Locking your gaze onto his, he was done for, going so far as to shove the two girls off of him, though they didn’t seem unhappy at having an excuse to leave.
“I’m new in Yul, sir, It’s an honor to meet you, I’ve heard so many stories...” The flattery worked like a charm, Ano patting the now empty spot beside him and you were sure not to break a moment of eye contact even as you sat down.
“Tell me, who are you with?” He obviously didn’t recognize you among the crowd of his aristocratic friends.
You gave him a forlorn sigh, nodding your head towards another corner of the room, “My date was the minister of Targon, but he’s gone off somewhere, leaving me all alone...”
“What an idiot he was, then, for leaving a lady like you,” You’d decided your nen had been in effect long enough for you to drop the charade if the lovestruck glaze in his crinkled eyes was anything to go by, merely leaning to briefly whisper your suggestions into his ear to keep up appearances for anyone watching.
“Send your main forces to the west back gate, there’s been a disturbance... but ask for the captain of the guard to meet you by the second left exit, alright?”
“But... what about—“ He must’ve had at least a little mental fortitude to achieve his position, enough to repel your abilities for about three seconds. Not bad for someone who didn’t know about nen.
You slid you hand to his cheek, tilting him forward to look at you, each second making the breathing in his chest more ragged by the second.
As you blew a soft kiss towards Ano it was apparently his breaking point, ripping out his phone and quickly calling up his captain. While your new lapdog was busy barking out your orders you shrugged off his side, pretending to spot someone among the crowd.
“Oh, there’s my date now! It’s truly been a pleasure, Mr. Ano, thank you for keeping me company!” Hopping off the chair, you gave him a quick bow for the witness’ sake and left your spot on the couch. He was about to call out for you to wait only to realize he had completely forgotten your name. By the time he’d fallen from your trance you were long gone, one face among many.
Your part had gone off without a hitch, Pakunoda and Machi should be restraining the guard captain any second now. All that was left is for him to spill where the greek play was being kept and it would be up to you and Chrollo to retrieve it.
“Quite a show,” Speak of the devil.
Chrollo took his place in step behind you, a strange energy to him that wasn’t there before, just as you were growing comfortable around him, “Any word from Shal?” You asked.
He shook his head, discreetly checking his earpiece to be sure the device was still on, “Not yet.”
“Well, what should we do in the meantime?” You were only half curious, expecting a simple command to stand by like usual.
Instead he outstretched his hand, the steel of his eyes softer than you’d ever seen before, “Dance with me.”
You blinked, waiting for the punchline, only to be met with silence and an open invitation to the main floor.
“But you...” It was nearly impossible to find the right words with him, each question sounding wrong, “why?”
The corners of his lips tilted into a smile, heat blooming from your chest at the rare, honest sight, “Why not?”
You didn’t trust your voice not to crack so you kept quiet as you slowly took his hand. There was something in the way he carried himself that made your lingering doubts fall away, his confidence infectious as he effortlessly lead you to the floor and let his hand fall to your waist.
“Chrollo, I don’t.. I’m not good at dancing.” Especially not whatever classical number the other guests were a part of.
He chuckled, pulling your hand onto his shoulder, “I’ll teach you,” you gripped the dark fabric of his blazer as a way to steady yourself, the violins escalating over the course of the concerto, “It’s only four steps, just follow my lead.”
He was patient with you, carefully guiding you into a steady pattern, your steps miraculously falling into sync with his. You couldn’t’ve helped the shaky laugh bubbling from your chest as you slowly got the hang of it, the proud look on Chrollo’s face just made it more surreal.
It was as if everything else began to melt away like candle wax; the judging socialites, the mission, and even your dedication to keeping your infatuation with Chrollo under wraps. Dancing with him was almost as easy as breathing.
Looking up from between the two of you and moving without his steps for guidance was as much of a reward as it was a mistake. Seeing the look on his face almost made you trip, saving yourself at the last minute from falling into his chest. If he noticed your stumble he was kind enough not to mention it. Chrollo was looking at you like you were the only person in the room, his eyes alight and hiding a million things he wouldn’t say just yet. You were too far gone to even try to hide the blush dusting across your face.
It was over all too soon, the gleam in his eyes suddenly focusing into the hardened iron you were used to.
“What is it?” He didn’t answer you right away, guiding the two of you off the dance floor until you began to make your way through the crowd.
“Machi and Paku dealt with the guard, there’s been a change of plans.”
That was never good. “What happened?”
“The Illiad isn’t being kept in any of the vaults. It’s in Markus Ano’s private study on the fifth floor.” His voice was hushed, a tone only you could hear as he tugged you close to his side, the gravity of the situation all that kept you from focusing too much on that detail.
You cursed, hoping the order Ano sent out on your behalf was enough to get most of the security out of the building so the two of you could get to the study undetected, “Does Shalnark have the upper floor plans or access to the cameras?”
Chrollo repeated your question into his hidden transceiver and nodded back after a moment, “He says there’s an unguarded stairwell in the east hallway.”
Grinning, you gestured forward, “Then lead the way, boss.”
The corridors were thankfully empty as you followed, checking each stairway before heeding whatever directions Shal was feeding into your boss’ ear. After walking down a seemingly ordinary hallway on the fifth floor you were quick to notice the two guards still stationed in front of what you assumed must be the private study. The sound of a pen clicking under Chrollo’s thumb was all it took to tell you to fall back. He’d take them himself.
One of them slapped the other’s shoulder as the two of you approached, barking out some question as they raised their rifles, taking aim when neither of you wasted a response. You made no move to block or dodge, knowing just how capable the head of the spiders could really be.
Before either of them could pull the trigger Chrollo was at their sides, the ballpoint of his pen snug in the left guard’s jugular, simply cracking the other’s neck to avoid a trail of blood. The right one crumbled to the floor and where he once stood your date held out his palm, the worn pages of Bandit’s Secret appearing between his fingertips.
“I’ll summon the Indoor Fish to take care of the bodies. You should look for the book while they work.” You nodded, slipping inside and being sure to shut the door behind you, not wanting to be seen as fair game to the conjured carnivores.
Ano’s study was filled with treasures, some framed and some propped on pedestals but all interesting in their own right. Foreign riches stolen or bought lined the shelves like an auction hall catalogue, but none of them resembled what Chrollo was after.
That is, until you noticed what was sitting open near Marcus’ desk.
The pages themselves were frail and peach-toned from age but as you tilted the parchment in the light you saw how the gold lining of the edges still reflected as brightly as it had a thousand years ago. The bindings themselves were a polished bronze, restored by some professional curator under Ano’s patronage until the golden lettering stood out even in the dim husk of the study.
Curiously, you looked at the page your host had left open, the scene of war and bloodshed drawn beside the texts so captivating you barely noticed the sound of the door opening and your date stepping through, Bandit’s Secret nowhere to be seen.
You held up the book for him, smiling once you saw the childlike gleam in Chrollo’s eyes that always shined once he made another conquest, some begotten treasure that he’d cherish for a while before selling it off on the black market. He was like a kid asking for his toy back as he reached to take it from you.
He held the book with a reverence, fingers skimming over the gold of the title, “Remarkable...” He muttered.
You couldn’t help but smile unsteadily, the dance from earlier that night playing at the forefront of your mind as you asked, “Chrollo?”
“Hm?”
“If you... I mean—” It was an awful feeling whenever you stuttered around your boss. He was always so brilliantly concise, each word perfectly in place; so whenever you were unfortunate enough to trip over your words it made you feel like your faults stood out all the more.
You looked down at your shoes, “I can’t exactly read this language. So would- I mean if you’re not busy...”
He looked up from the play, patient with your nervous disposition, whispering your name in a quiet hush, “What is it?”
Closing your eyes, you forced the sentence out of your throat, “Would you read it to me sometime? The.. play?”
He blinked, briefly silent as he took in your words, and from that you assumed the worst, frantically trying to play off your request with a wave of your hands, “Not- no, sorry, boss— that was weird, I just—“
“—It’s alright,” His voice was so quiet, just barely loud enough for you to hear, “I’d be happy to.”
“Are you sure?” You couldn’t believe your ears. Chrollo had seemed so unapproachable when you first joined the Troupe, his power an entire league of its own. Saying you admired him would be putting it lightly. And yet here he still gave you the time of day.
Your laugh was as shaky as your heartbeat, half from disbelief and half in joy, having trouble comprehending the warmth that spread down your fingertips and up your neck, dousing your cheeks red. His eyes never left yours, completely enraptured with the effect he had on you.
Your moment together was short-lived as the both of you seized up at the very noticeable sound of loud footsteps from down the hall. The footsteps were in sync, marching towards the room you took refuge in.
‘How did they find out we were here?’ You didn’t have time to speak, thoughts interrupted by the feeling of Chrollo’s hand gripping your wrist, yanking you with him towards the back of the study. He scanned the room quickly before zeroing in on what must’ve been a storage closet, doors revealing a small room stacked with cleaning supplies.
He pulled you inside with a sharp tug, the darkness of the closet overtaking you as he locked it shut behind, suddenly very able to hear even the minutia of his breathing in such close quarters. Luckily you didn’t have to focus on it for long as what sounded like a small squadron of guards entered the study.
“Sir, we insist you stay here until the intruders are dealt with,” Even in darkness the two of you locked eyes after hearing that. Had Paku or Machi been captured? Unlikely, but what else could they mean? “They’re still putting up some resistance at the west gate, it’s not safe yet.”
You immediately recognized the voice that responded, “Come now, It’s my own party! I won’t let a few terrorists ruin my good mood.”
None of the security detail made their way to the back of the study, abundantly clear that whatever they were here for, they weren’t looking for you. The connection between the diversion you’d made up and the events transpiring began to click together in your brain.
“Please, Sir, just stay here for another twenty minutes or so. They clearly weren’t prepared for our assault, we should have them cleaned up soon.” It was almost too hilarious to be true. Had another mercenary company other than the Phantom Troupe descended on Markus’ gala? Chrollo had said he was taunting the entire criminal underground with the event after all, but you had no idea they were going to come from the west gate, it had just been the first direction you thought of.
You scoffed as quietly as you could and it was almost as if Chrollo could see you smile even in the pitch black. “What a coincidence,” You murmured, careful not to speak too loud, “I can’t believe I guessed that right.”
“I should learn to trust your instincts more often then.” He joked, his voice a beguiling hush of its former self, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. Your mouth opened and closed but nothing managed to escape, his overwhelming presence in the crowded room growing more apparent by the second.
“What’s wrong?” You weren’t able to answer him for a few seconds, wracking your brain for an answer that wasn’t ‘I want to know what kissing you feels like.’
“N-othin’ boss...” Even you weren’t convinced by that one. He hummed and eventually your eyes began to adjust to the darkness until you could get a clearer look at him. The two of you were as close as you had been when he danced with you what felt like hours ago, noticing how his wide eyes never left yours.
“I thought I told you to call me by my name?” He asked incredulously, a smug smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. For the briefest moment you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes flick over to your lips, but you quickly tried to brush it off as a trick of the lighting.
You blinked, “But that’s just for the mission, right?”
“Darling,” It was surprising that he didn’t notice the almost deafening sound of your heartbeat echoing through the confines of the closet, “from now on...”
As he took a step closer you couldn’t move, your legs weak beneath you as he pressed against your trembling frame, one arm keeping you caged against the wall and reveling in the squeak it drew out of you.
“When we’re alone?” His lips hovering his lips over your ear as he breathed the words against your temple, “I want you to call me Chrollo.”
In retrospect, you weren’t thinking clearly before you kissed him. It was like a compulsion, your conscience having no say over your fingers as you pulled him to your lips by the lapels of his suit. Despite all your screaming nerves and lingering doubts you somehow felt that if you didn’t do this now he could slip through your fingers again for good.
In all the years you’ve known your leader this was the first time you’d seen him stunned into silence, your impulsive confidence starting to backfire on your own brain.
You hastily shoved yourself away from him, shame pooling in your gut as you scrambled to apologize, “Chrollo, I’m- Fuck, I’m so sorry I wasn’t thinki—“
He cut you off by cupping his hand over your mouth, backing you further into the wall. Your boss raised a finger to his lips, shushing you with such a fond expression it actually helped you calm down. Tilting his raven hair to the door, he gestured to the guards outside who thankfully didn’t hear your hushed outburst.
“You’re terrified, aren’t you?” That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting him to say but you hesitantly nodded nonetheless.
Chrollo’s grip on your mouth went slack, his fingertips running over the plush of your lips, “Why?”
“I’m scared that I’m crossing a line.”
It was the simplest way you could put it, your words hanging undisturbed in the air for a few moments before he could respond, “If that’s what you believe, then I’ll cross it myself.”
In the blink of an eye he’d trapped one hand in your hair, the other pulling you close by your waist and into a suffocating kiss. His lips were warmer than you thought they’d be but just as soft as you imagined; turning you into a petrified mess beneath him, brain short circuiting as his tongue held on to yours.
You pulled away first as the stinging in your lungs became too much to bear. As you tried to catch your breath you saw his expression, eyes dilated and lips slightly stained with the color of your lip tint.
Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you looked up at him as best you could in the darkness, “So does this mean you like me too?”
“Christ,” He pinched the bridge of his nose in exhaustion, frustration lacing the way he said your name, “how could I make myself clearer?”
It was possible he could see the blush you were wearing even in the black lighting of the closet from how hot it spread. When he kissed you again there wasn’t a shred of hesitation or self-doubt left to overthink, his confession ringing in your head like the sweetest music you’ve ever heard. It wasn’t like any timid kiss of a new relationship, it was eager, raw, and long overdue.
His knee found its way between your legs, the friction everything you’d been craving and more, keening moans devoured by his lips before they could reach outside the closet door.
“Wait.. Chrollo, stop,” He froze, eerily still with an unreadably tense look on his face.
The voice that had been so laced with desire only a minute ago was gone, “Are you alright?”
“Wha- Yes, I-I’m fine, we just can’t do this here.”
He blinked in an owlish way that you’d call cute if he wasn’t being so flippant, “Why not?”
“What do you mean ‘why not?’” You hissed, pointing to the door and the entourage that awaited you beyond it.
You felt his lips curve into a smirk against your cheek, angling your jaw up until he spoke in a whisper, his hushed breath against your skin sending another wave of heat to your gut, “If they interrupt us,” Chrollo’s grip grew tighter, snapping you forward and forcing you to look at him, “I’ll kill them.”
“But... what about the escape plan? If they hear us—” He clicked his tongue and the hand that had been resting on your waist dipped between your legs, cupping you harshly through the black fabric of the dress, clasping your hand over your mouth to staunch the sharp whimper it brought out.
“Then you should try to stay quiet.” He led a trail of kisses down the curve of your neck, smiling as he felt you begin to relax under his grip, eyes fluttering open and shut from his touch.
He pulled his hand away, bunching the satin of your dress up your thighs until his fingertips ran along the soaked material of your panties.
“So wet for me, Darling,” It was all you could do to keep your voice down as he slipped his fingers under the waistline of the fabric, his breathing uneven as he toyed with the soft heat of your cunt, hovering kisses over your collarbone but keeping his gaze on yours as he asked, “how long have you thought about this? Thought about me?”
“A few months-ah—!” You were barely able to cover your squeak in time as he bit down on the vulnerable flesh.
“Liar.”
He read you like a book. At your juvenile silence that followed his remark he just sighed and started pulling his hand away, the absence of his fingertips on your clit enough to burn off what little shame you had left.
Screwing your eyes shut, you caved, “Since I joined the Troupe!” He paused at your hushed outburst, lips parted in what might’ve actually been surprise as you melted into his touch, “I’ve wanted you for years, Chrollo.”
“That long...” The blissful pressure on your clit was back and you would’ve doubled over if it weren’t for his grip holding you down. Your eyes were still shut so it took you by surprise as his next words sounded further away than the last, “I’ll have to apologize for keeping you waiting.”
Opening your eyes to see the leader of the Phantom Troupe on his knees in front of you, pulling your ruined garments down your legs with a starving glint in his irises was a sight you’d never forget. Not to be outdone when he ran his tongue along your lips, biting into your palm to hold back the whine of your voice.
“Fuck,” He cursed, a rarity for your composed boss and the raspy tremor of it only made your thighs widen. His eyes flickered to your trembling legs that didn’t seem to be capable of supporting your weight any longer, an imaginary lightbulb flicking above the darkened room. With an unnerving kind of strength he hooked his hand under your leg and locked it around his head, becoming all too aware of the heat of his breath against the soft curve of your thigh, settling it comfortably on his shoulder.
“You’re shaking,” He observed, lining a row of chaste kisses along the plush skin, “are you still nervous, Darling?”
Both of you knew he was wrong, and he proved it by leaning further closer to the ache between your legs, tongue prodding at your sensitive clit, “Or are you just that desperate for me?”
“—Chrollo, please,” The growl in your throat was almost enough to catch him off guard, lightly banging the back of your head against the wall out of bratty frustration, “For once in your life, shut up.”
He laughed faintly against your cunt, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your stomach before intoning a delicate, “As you wish.”
The first drag of his tongue had your back arching against the closet wall, the needy sigh he groaned against you sending another tide of heat into your bloodstream. He wasn’t as careful with you now, pace quickly overwhelming as his hands dug future bruises into your malleable flesh.
Your lungs hated being cooped up by your hand as you tried to stay quiet, a few honeyed pleas slipping through your fingers. There was a part of you still vacantly panicking at the compromising position you were in, the thought that one wrong move would be all it took to have the guards outside breaking down the door. You weren’t scared of them hurting you, god no, you were a member of the Phantom Troupe, a few armed guards would be nothing against you. That still didn’t mean you necessarily wanted an entire squadron of soldiers seeing you at your most vulnerable, coming undone at Chrollo’s sinful touch.
Dark strands of hair carded through your fingers as you basked in his attention, the warming knot in your stomach ever closer to snapping. His free hand dipped below the one supporting your thigh and carefully slipped two fingers inside you, curling them up and smiling at your muffled cries.
The reality of the situation was almost overwhelming, the desperation in your grip eased when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking the bud between his teeth. Your chest was heaving with the effort to keep still and silent even under his torture.
“Shit, Chrollo,” You whined lowly.
“Hm? What is it, love?” The new nickname was enough to make you crumble.
Even though it pained you to do so you wrenched his face away, nerves outraged at your body’s decisions. You wouldn’t admit it out loud but the stunning view of Chrollo Lucilfer, one of the most dangerous men in the entire world, below you with lips shiny and wet with your slick, was definitely giving you a power trip.
Summoning up what courage you had left, you shut your eyes and whispered, “Chrollo, Please just fuck me already.”
He didn’t move for a second, eyes black with want, but before you could beg any further he’d already rose to stand over you again while he made quick work of his belt. The clinking of metal was far too loud for your predicament but it wasn’t long before you were forgetting all about the assault team waiting outside. Once he unzipped his pants low enough to free himself from his briefs it was hard to think about anything else.
Without much effort he held your waist up to his own with one hand and lined himself between you with the other; not even his unshakeable resolve enough to completely stifle a groan as you eagerly wrapped your legs around him, trapping him closer.
He hissed as you dragged your aching walls down his cock and your pupils flared at the strained moan hot against your ear, “Look at yourself, Darling. Such a fragile little thing for me, so eager to have me inside of you...” His words trailed off as the he softly ground the leaking head of his cock onto your puffy clit.
“You’ve got quite the crush on me, haven’t you?” Chrollo’s kisses turned sharp as he bit along your shoulder and up the trembling climb of your neck.
The pleas you babbled were half illegible, teeming with the unbearable desire you’d kept dormant for years finally earning its due. As he began to push into you he took your lips in his, hiding each of your whorish moans in his mouth. It was almost surreal. You’d fantasized about this moment on and off for so long that to finally feel him pull your hips closer and stifle a groan into your tongue was shooting sparks down your spine. You eventually had to break away for air, panting madly as you rest on the wall for balance.
“Chr...oh-ah, shit, feels so good, Chrollo,” You whimpered, tucking your head onto his shoulder
When he said your name you almost came then and there, a vulnerable need in his voice you hadn’t heard before as he whispered it like gospel, “Goddamnit.. you’re so tight—“
You couldn’t wait for him any more, locking your thighs around him and drawing him flush with your waist as he audibly choked from the wet plush of your cunt. It stung for a moment but after ripping off that band-aid all you felt was full.
He couldn’t stop himself at that point, digging bruises into your thighs as he shallowly rut his hips against yours and tugged you down the wall to take you deeper.
Trying to regain his composure, he evened out his thickly voice and hushed soft praise into your ear, “Do you feel that, love? Feel me here?” He accentuated his words by curving one hand down to your stretched pussy, his palm intentionally pressing down on your abdomen as he curled precise circles onto your clit.
The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt, the moan it brought falling far too loud from your kiss-bitten lips. With a jolt of his wrist his hand was pressed against your mouth, head tilted towards the door.
“Wh.. Ivon, did you hear that?” A voice spoke from outside, and your heart fell into your stomach.
Blood was pounding in your ears as you waited for the guard’s response, eyes tearing up while mentally kicking yourself over the slip up.
The man who you could reasonably assume to be Ivon replied, “Yeah? James was just talking about the one of the guests. Did you hear somethin’ else?”
“No, I just thought I..” The guard trailed off, voice already muffled through the wood of the door.
Your eyes snapped open, glaring at Chrollo as he began to move your hips back onto his. Despite the nervous tremor that still wracked your core you couldn’t help but take a kind of sick pleasure in it. The fear of your enemies finding you was exhilarating your twitching body in a way you couldn’t imagine. Sparks caressed your limbs as he dragged himself inside you, igniting a fiery need in his wake.
He watched your muffled reactions with a cheshire grin, pleased to no end. His lips were parted from the friction, sweat beading under the cloth of his bandages, the lewd clap of skin on skin echoing faintly through the storage closet. You might’ve been a mess for him but the way his skin was flushed and his breathing stuttered as he snapped into you was enough to tell that he was close. You keened against his fingers, clenching tight around him and taking in the enticing way he shuddered.
Whatever cries you tried to make were gagged by his hand as he rubbed circles along your clit with the other. All at once the wall felt like it crumbled to dust behind you as you pulled him as close as It was the final push you needed to come undone, spasming and screaming into his hand as he left wet kisses along your neck.
Through the haze of your orgasm you couldn’t feel Chrollo take his hand off your mouth to dig his fingertips into your hips, desperately chasing his own release.
You heard him stifle each breathy curse and harsh groan into your neck, the oversensitivity enough to have you crying out from the numbingly hot friction. His teeth found solace in your jugular as he came, eyes pinched while he finished inside you, choking out the last fragments of his pleasure against your racing pulse.
It took you about two seconds before you realized what you’d done.
“Wait, what the— fuck?” A different voice said, the distinct sound of a magazine clipping into its holster echoing from beyond the closet.
Before you could panic Chrollo was pushing his index finger to your lips, a soft shush from your boss all it took to make you realize everything would be fine.
“I kne- hey James, get over here!” Ivon shouted, several pairs of boots crowding towards the closet door.
He set you carefully down to the ground, your legs wobbling under the weight and the sensation tingly on the undersides of your feet after being held in the air for so long, your boss pressing an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead before collecting his bearings.
“This won’t take long, love.” He assured, locking an errant strand of hair behind your ear. Chrollo hadn’t actually taken any of his clothes off, something you resolved to change the next time you did this, and was already tucking himself back into his pants and brushing down his clothes to look at least semi-presentable.
“Whoever the fuck is in there, get out here now. This area is off-limits to guests!” You scoffed from your place on the floor, a blissed out smile on your face as you enjoyed the afterglow.
Chrollo feigned innocence as he answered, cautious to keep your exposed body out of their sight as he cracked open the door, “I’m coming out, there’s no need to panic..”
From where you sat you saw him summon Bandit’s Secret in the hand still obscured by doorway, flicking to a particularly nasty ability without even craning his neck to read which page he had turned to. You almost felt sorry for Ano and his guards. Almost.
As you began hunting down your underwear the noises of blood-curling screams filled the next room, the splatter of gore and thump of fallen limbs all too recognizable sounds in your line of work. You just managed to snatch your panties off the ground right before the steadily increasing pool of blood from under the door managed to reach it, a new red stream trickling in from the study.
You pulled your look together, trying to fan down the mess of your staticky hair as much as possible before Chrollo opened the door again, not a single drop of red visible on his suit.
Both Markus Ano and his guards had all been split into pieces, their organs hacked by the unknown energy in one of your boss’ many stolen hatsu and you found yourself having a hard time matching together Ano’s face with the rest of his torso. Covered in a sea of red, they all looked the same at this point.
“Well this sucks. How are we gonna get out of this?” You echoed, tiptoeing around the carnage to not get your new heels dirty.
Chrollo chuckled, holding out his arm just like he did earlier that night. It was easy taking it this time, none of the hesitance from before. As he led you past the doorway and into the still-empty hallway he explained, “There was an attack on the Yul treasury tonight but they don’t know we were ever here. If we don’t claim to anything I’m sure some rebel faction will take credit for our work soon enough.”
As you two wove your way down the hallways you weren’t even stopped by the guards who rushed upstairs at the sounds of screaming. To them it must’ve been impossible for two bloodless aristocrats to be the culprits, as by then you’d managed to blend your way into the crowd of confused guests. The party was as lively as you left it, the band playing a particularly triumphant melody as you escaped.
You almost scoffed as you walked out the front door, each guard none the wiser that their employer was currently littered across his study in chunks because of you; none of them even recognized the ten billion dollar play tucked safely under your arm. But you couldn’t blame them. After all, your attention wasn’t on the book either, but on the man beside you, completely enraptured by even the slightest smile on his face.
He might’ve had a good point earlier. You do have quite the crush on him.
summary: dabi is on the run from the cops when you just happened to leave your window open.
tags: drunk sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon but not really,
wc: 6729
a/n: this is my first dabi fanfic so i’m worried i might’ve made him a bit too ooc but tbh i don’t care. soft dabi is what i want and soft dabi is what i will get. huge thanks by the way to @a-monsters-love who beta read this story and made it a lot less sucky!
my requests are open by the way!
What woke you wasn’t the explosions or the screams, but the sirens. The mechanical moans echoed through the streets of Musutafu, and that sound pulled you up out of bed, looking out your window in a bleary state of half-asleep fear.
‘What was going on?’ Goosebumps ran up your arms as you peered out your alleyway view window, overlooking the fire escape to the siren that had recently been installed in your neighborhood a few months back. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you tried to recall when the Pro Hero Association had brought it, and that same chill sank to your bones as you remembered just what they were for.
A villain had attacked the prefecture. A dangerous one.
You tried to calm your breathing, slowly walking backwards from the window to think rationally about the situation.
‘There’s no reason for somebody to attack a random apartment building, they’re off fighting heroes,’ The reasonable side of your brain said.
Despite that the siren was still wailing across town and it began to set you on edge. You certainly weren’t falling back asleep any time soon. If you couldn’t go back to bed you thought you’d might as well make some tea to calm your frigid nerves. You smiled when you saw your well-loved cardigan hanging next to the door and hugged it close, otherwise wearing nothing but your bra and leggings.
When you stepped into the main room you breathed in the warm scent of the candle that you’d accidentally left burning. Cursing yourself for your lack of fire safety, you shrugged and used the wick to light your path to the counter. After filling up the kettle under the sink you left it under the lit stove to boil, taking a moment to admire how the burner’s low flames were almost purely blue.
From here you could see the small television beside the couch and with a press of a button it came to life before you. The harsh glare made your eyes wince before they adjusted to the unfriendly light.
You were drawn to the red index near the corner that blinked the words ‘breaking news.’ This made your sleep-addled brain finally connect the dots between the sirens and the reporter. The screen cut to a newsman outside of what used to be a ten-story building when all that remained was a smoking husk. Hesitantly, you increased the volume to hear what happened.
“—before fleeing the scene. We have reports that say the hero fighting him was put into critical condition following the attack, and is currently being taken to the hospital. A video was taken by a nearby woman who sent it to the authorities. We believe this clip to be of the suspects,” The journalist paused, and a low-quality film began to play. Whoever was recording had badly shaking hands so It was difficult to make out. Your eyes widened at the sight of the building you walked by every day for work, the Shishido hero agency, razed by a torrent of blue wildfire.
Escaping from the crumbling building were four or so figures, too far away to see with any accuracy, but each had an unmistakeable silhouette. The League of Villains.
They were something of a modern socratic dialogue. Whenever someone brought up their name or the hero killer Stain’s it was always just to be a contrarian towards whoever was on the opposing side. Fanatical opinions would spark heated arguments online but you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself.
Although, if you’d have to pick a side, you would choose the League’s. After Stain’s video had spread through Japan you dug deeper into the shady histories of some of the Commission’s most well-respected heroes. Whatever standard you held those pros to crumbled into dust under miles of ‘collateral damage,’ and omitted crimes that were swept under the rug by police. So when the faces of the league went up on the screen you couldn’t help but smile at their victory.
The whistle of the kettle pulled you from the television. You rushed to take it off the stove before it could get any louder, and routinely began to fix the tea just the way you like it. You hummed, smiling as the first sip of the warm brew spread down your body, fending off the cold.
You threw the remote onto the couch that sat across from the small kitchen. Moving back to your bedroom and getting cozy with the tea, you reveled in the way that the mug loosened the frozen joints of your fingers. But before you could relax and block out the sirens with some music, you noticed another chill rush through the small room. Groaning over-dramatically, you set the tea down to retrieve another blanket from your pile; but your eyes widened when you tracked down the source of the cold.
Your window was open.
That caught you off guard. You were absolutely sure you closed it before bed knowing how low the temperatures would drop, though with growing panic you noticed how you specifically don’t remember locking it. There’s only two ways it could’ve been open now. Either you simply misremembered earlier that night and forgot to close it...
Or someone else broke in.
The tea’s warmth was long forgotten as you reached shaking hands to close the window. But before you could slide the panel shut a calloused hand clawed itself around your mouth so you couldn’t scream.
Fear gripped your lungs as you struggled to breathe, thrashing desperately against the second arm your assailant had snaked over your waist to keep you still. Your leg banged painfully on the side of the windowsill as you struggled but it didn’t deter you from opening your mouth wide enough to bite down on the attacker’s hand.
“Fuck!” He cursed when your teeth drew blood around his thumb and practically threw you to the ground. As you were about to use your newfound freedom to scream for help, the man lunged towards you with one outstretched hand.
His flesh was suddenly engulfed in a hissing blue fire and you winced at the wave of heat that flared so close to your face. From here you could easily make out the assailant’s features from the illuminating glow of his flames.
He had deep scars circled under his eyes using what looked like piercings to hold the tattered skin together. His lips quirked after realizing he’d caught you for good, making his charred skin pull against the metal in his cheekbones. Panic hadn’t altered your memory, you knew exactly who was standing over you. Dabi of the league of villains.
Before either of you could make another move someone banged on the front door. You turned to look towards the sound but the heat close to your reddening throat kept you from doing anything stupid.
“Ma’am this is the police, open the door.” You and Dabi stared at each other from the implications and you could already see a plan forming behind his eyes.
He leaned far too close, keeping his lit hand still hovering over your neck as he whispered his words into your ear, “Listen to me nice and close, doll,” You couldn’t bring yourself to breathe underneath that searing tension. “You’re gonna answer that door. You’re gonna smile and say that nobody’s home. And if you give away fuckin’ anything,” Dabi’s flames somehow stoked themselves, the heat so intense that your teardrops evaporated before they could leave your eyes, “I’ll set your hair on fire first. So you can feel your brain cooking.” He spoke with a dripping malice that made your blood run cold despite the fires creeping up his arm. You nodded, too terrified to form words as he pushed forward; telling you to get up.
The brief walk from your bedroom to the front door had never felt so long. Your legs felt like the static emanating from the television, all shaky and unstable. Once your hands curled around the handle you decided not to spare a glance back.
‘What do I do?’ You didn’t want to die, at least not by immolation of all things, so you’d have to play along. You cupped your feverish face in your hands and took an unsteady breath. ‘As long as I can fool these cops, I’ll be fine. I can do this,’ At least, you hoped.
Opening the door caused the hallway’s lights to flood through your darkened doorway. Once your eyes flinched with discomfort you saw the unmistakeable uniforms of two police officers, both middle-aged and looking much more disinterested than you would’ve thought.
“Is there a problem?” You could lie smoothly enough but your voice was still feeble from Dabi’s strain on your neck.
The one who had called out earlier answered your question, “A member of the league of villains was seen climbing in through a window to this apartment building, but the witness didn’t remember exactly which floor or room. Is anyone else with you?”
You feigned confusion, going so far with the act as to tilt your head slightly to the side. “No, I’m sure I’m alone, sir.”
At that moment a painfully loud squeak echoed from your bedroom and your eyes widened at the audible gap in your story. There was a loose floorboard right beside your bookshelf that creaked under even the slightest weight. You’ve learned to avoid it over time but Dabi had no idea.
That bored expression on the cop’s face shifted and you scrambled to come up with a explanation. “I thought you said you lived alone?”
An idea popped straight from your brain to your mouth, “My cat! His name is—“ You thought of the old, lovable house-cat your family had kept while growing up, “Byron. He like to get into my plants.”
“...Alright then, Ma’am, just keep yourself safe.” It seemed to just barely convince them.
You almost couldn’t fight back the elation as you waved off the oblivious pair, heeding their words by locking the door behind them in a rush. Pressing your back against the wood, you tried to settle the adrenaline pounding through your chest. Unfortunately as soon as you started to calm down, Dabi strode from the bedroom with a curious look in his eyes.
“Not bad, lady. Didn’t think you’d give it your all like that,” He must’ve kicked himself for making that noise and thought you would’ve used it as a way to give him up, “especially for a villain like me.”
The tension in the air had noticeably lessened, and you started to think you had a good shot at surviving the night. “I mean, I didn’t want them to find you either.”
Dabi paced around the living room, turning on one of your floor lights in his path towards the couch, “And why’s that?” He asked, flopping unceremoniously onto the secondhand loveseat.
Sure, you were still half pissed at the guy for breaking into your apartment and threatening to kill you, but it was clear that everything he did wasn’t personal. He just needed to escape from the police, but since they were gone what would happen now?
“Because...” You wanted to find the right words to convince him, “because I hate heroes too.”
Under the dim glow of the lamp you caught a glimpse of a half-handsome smile from that answer. Now that there was none of the malice from before you could appreciate just what he looked like under the warm lighting. Especially his eyes, which turned out to be a truly stunning shade of blue.
He kicked his feet onto your coffee table and patted the seat next to him. You’d have to deal with whatever dirt or soot he’d tracked inside tomorrow morning, but for now you found yourself accepting his invitation.
“Lucky me, huh?” Dabi asked rhetorically, and you found yourself almost smiling back at him. The couch was still cold underneath you but you painfully realized that Dabi was emanating heat like a goddamn generator.
‘It must’ve been from his quirk.’ you thought bitterly, shivering despite yourself.
Dabi drew a pack of Newports from his coat pocket and slid a cigarette out with his teeth. Instead of using a lighter a thin blue flame ignited on his index finger. He held it to the tip and drew in a deep lungful of smoke.
“So, what’s your deal, anyways? You got a thing for villains or something?” He asked, teasing another blush onto your face as you shook your head.
“No, I just— I mean not like that,” From the look on his grafted face you could tell he wasn’t convinced. “The Hero Commission is corrupt, I agree with the league on that at least. Stain’s video kinda affected me, you know?”
Another small grin graced his lips and a small part of you decided that you wanted to see that expression more often, “What’s your name, doll?”
The question put you at ease; When he repeated it back, rolling the syllables over his tongue, you couldn’t wait to hear him say it again. Wordlessly, he extended his hand towards you, offering the lit cigarette between his fingers. When you took it all you could focus on was how warm his hands felt against yours for those brief seconds.
Wisps of smoke danced in the air as you inhaled, coughing a bit after the dry tang started to sting the back of your mouth. He smirked at your reaction before taking the cheap cigar from your fingertips.
Dabi saw the remote you left laying on the couch and mindlessly turned on the TV across from you. The news station was once again playing, this time an interview with one of the heroes who fought at the scene. This hero in particular was an older man with a receding hairline and an honestly ridiculous outfit that looked somewhere between a scuba diver and a 70s golden-age comic book character.
Beside you, Dabi groaned at the sight of him, “This fuckin’ guy...”
“Were you the one that fought him?” He nodded without breaking his attention from the screen.
“His quirk was such a pain to deal with. He controlled all the oxygen in the room— made it hard to set his ass on fire.”
There were a surprising lack of injuries on Dabi as far as you could see, aside from a few scrapes alongside the bruised scars that crawled below his loose shirt. You couldn’t help but wonder how far down they went, but quickly turned your attention back to the screen to ignore those ideas. The hero he fought looked far worse for wear, skin marred with fresh burns that singed holes into the costume; His legs shaking similarly to how yours were just fifteen minutes ago. Dabi seemed to have that effect on people.
Before you could ask him how he’d won his fight he was off the couch and walking towards the kitchen. He casually searched through your apartment with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.
You sighed, a bit annoyed at how he helped himself to your fridge, “Dabi, if you’d tell me what you’re looking for I could show you.”
“Nah, already found what I wanted.” He pulled open one of the drawers and smirked as he pulled a chill bottle of wine from the fridge.
Dabi tracked down two nearby glasses and a corkscrew before returning to your side and started to twist the metal tip into the pliant seal. It pulled loose with a soft pop and he filled each of your cups with the cherry wine you had been saving for a special occasion.
As you raised the rim to your lips and breathed in the fermented smell you paused. Were you really about to drink wine with a villain? A wanted criminal who broke into your apartment? His hand had been around your throat as he whispered about how he would burn you alive less than half an hour ago. There had to be something wrong with you to even consider it. Beside you he nearly emptied half the glass in his first sip before going back to enjoying his cigarette and you found your resolve crumbling at his lazy half-smile. Making possibly one of the dumbest mistakes of your life, you followed his lead and took a long swig from the bittersweet drink, intent on letting the alcohol relax your nerves.
The effects were slow to come, it was only wine after all, but as the night carried on and the two of you kept drinking you started to notice the effects taking hold. At the very least, conversation between you flowed so easily, trading questions about each other that never grew too inquisitive. He didn’t try to pry too deeply, he didn’t even ask for your last name, and you were sure to never bring up his scars. You talked for what must’ve been hours, and as the bottle emptied, the space between the two of you grew smaller.
Dabi could handle his alcohol, but you couldn’t, clearly. To be fair, he was tipsy, but the way you unashamedly leaned your head on his shoulder when you grew tired was anything but sober.
“So, doll, got a boyfriend or something?” He asked, testing the waters. You leaned up and sighed at the question.
“No, nothin’ like that... I haven’t had the time.” You tipped your glass back but the wine never reached your lips. You groaned at the sight of the empty cup and leaned up to grab the bottle from the table. Unfortunately, Dabi’s hand held onto yours before you could reach the vice; You felt him pull you back towards the couch by your wrist until you lost your balance, falling back against his shoulder. If he minded he didn’t show it as his arm rested around your hip.
“I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” The condescending tone in his voice was annoying but it wasn’t enough to make you move from his comfortable grasp.
You scoffed, messing with your hair to avoid looking at his face, “God, who are you, my dad?”
A shit-eating grin stretched across his face, “Oh, so you’re into that Daddy shit, huh?”
The comment took you so off-guard that you broke into a fit of giggles that did nothing to temper the blush returning to your face. Dabi loved how much of an effect he had on you; the simplest words turning you into a flustered mess.
“Nah, not my thing-“ ‘Unless you’re into it,’ You barely kept yourself from saying that second part out loud. From this angle Dabi had the perfect view of your tits pressing against his chest and he stared shamelessly. You barely noticed, too focused on how warm he was while holding you close to his side. It almost looked like something a boyfriend would do, but you knew better.
It was a strange feeling, to be so under Dabi’s influence. Every lingering touch, every heated stare... It was driving you crazy. And he knew it. He was toying with you and you couldn’t believe how much you loved it.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a chill running down your spine, only realizing that you were so caught up in your time spent with Dabi that you forgot to close the very window he had snuck through. As the night carried on it somehow got colder and you cursed the thin cardigan you found yourself wearing that did nothing to shield away the biting air.
“You cold, doll?” Dabi was surprisingly perceptive, noticing the trail of goosebumps that ran down your arms. Although, perhaps it was the sensation of his hand trailing over your skin that caused it rather than the wind.
Nodding hesitantly, he wasted no time in wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You couldn’t have held back the relieved sigh that left your lips if you tried. Because when Dabi wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you to his chest, it felt like heaven to your frigid bones.
As you curled into the embrace he couldn’t ignore how you felt on top of him. The pressure of your ass sitting on his dick drove him crazy, and it took damn near everything in him to not push you down face first and take you then and there.
“Dabi, you feel amazing,” His eyes widened, your slurred words almost making him lightheaded, “so warm...” You trailed your hands up and threaded them through his coarse dark hair. The faintest of groans left his lips as you got comfortable and accidentally dragged yourself down the front of his jeans.
All at once he took hold of the bare skin of your thighs, stopping you from moving and damn near shaking with effort to keep still. “Doll... cause’ you’re drunk, I’ll ask you this one time—“
“—Please, Dabi,” You didn’t budge under his bruising grasp or struggle like before, but you held eye-contact, resolve heavy in your voice, “I want this- want you so bad,” It was enough for him, and he didn’t hold back.
He was ravenous when he finally pressed his lips to yours, leaving you tongue-tied and moaning into his mouth. The alcohol only added fuel to your desire, easing the tension on your clit by grinding against him. He broke the kiss in a choked gasp, his hands cupping you around your ass and fondling you through the thin material. When he stood up from the couch gravity somehow felt heavier, but it must’ve been from the wine. His hands still held you by your thighs and while he backed the both of you towards the bedroom his lips never leaving even when he went to rip your cardigan off your shoulders, leaving it behind along with his coat, you in only your bra and leggings.
The loud bang from Dabi kicking the door open startled you and he chuckled into the kiss, running a stapled hand through your bedhead and pulling hard enough to make you keen into his touch. Rather unceremoniously he threw you onto the bed, briefly disorientating before you could make out Dabi’s alluring figure ridding himself of his clothes. Once he pulled over his shirt you saw his maimed chest covered in taught muscles and scars. As he broke your gaze to turn his attention to his jeans, fumbling with the cheap zipper, you couldn’t help from crawling towards him slowly on your knees before whispering, “No—“ He looked up from his trance, wondering if you’d changed your mind before you quickly perished the thought by pulling him towards you by the loops on his jeans. He raised an eyebrow at your show but didn’t make a move to interrupt the adorable way you took care of him.
So you began, looking into his eyes as you kissed down his deformed chest. It seemed a miracle he was even standing before you, with haphazard staples barely holding him together. You couldn’t resist giving the seams of his wounds special attention, pressing light kisses to the metal as you made your way down.
You unhooked his jeans easily, eagerly reaching to feel him through his boxers. His nails dug into your scalp when you finally eased his shorts off, breaking your eyes away to look between his legs and—
You couldn’t’ve stopped the needy moan from your lips if you tried, too attracted and nervous about the shiny bridges of metal through his dick. “Fuck, Dabi...” He had the most cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face as he watched you salivate over him.
“What’s wrong, baby? Never had a guy with piercings before?” You didn’t even hear him, instead responding with a dazed shake of your head; far too tipsy on the sight of him towering over you, reddened head leaking against his stomach.
He pretended to come to a decision, “Guess I’ll have to take my time with you before fucking that cute pussy,” His words sent heat straight to your core, slick pooling in your ruined panties, “but then why am I the only one naked? You’re gonna make me embarrassed you know.” The amused look on his face put you at ease and you laughed a bit at the idea.
“You? You’re the most shameless person I’ve ever met,” The smile he brought out was enough to ease the nerves that came with being so vulnerable to a man like Dabi.
The foe-offended look on his face wasn’t any less ironic, “You wound me, doll,” when his attention fell back to your clothes he didn’t hesitate to snake his hand below your arched back and unclasp your bra. Before you could think of covering yourself he’d already raised your arms up and thrown the lace material into some corner of your room.
He was on you in an instant, biting and sucking on the plush skin of your tits with abandon, enjoying every small tremor it brought from your shaking lips. To him your body was a blank canvas just begging for him to bruise and he would take his sweet time carving teeth marks into your chest.
But while he had his fun you had yours, running your hand along his collarbones and carefully worrying the stapled hem of skin. You weren’t sure how the stitches would hold up otherwise. But before you could worry about it too much you felt him pull away, a deep hickey left in his wake.
“You don’t have to be gentle with them,” He looked up at you with an unexpected sincerity.
With that there was nothing to hold you back from dragging your nails down his chest, the villain groaning as you felt his solid stomach beneath you. From a distance he looked like a patched rag-doll that was barely holding itself together but up close the wiry muscles that clung to his calloused body couldn’t be ignored. Dabi practically hissed when he felt your soft fingers wrap around his cock, only spurring you on further. The piercings weren’t as rigid as they appeared but they were scalding to the touch.
His breathing stuttered around you as you picked up your pace, the heat of his breath pulsing on your cheek as you took in every sinful expression on his face. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut at the pleasure. You stared unabashedly, taking note of how peaceful he looked above you. Like for the first time that night his body wasn’t wrought with chronic pain.
When you pulled your hand away his eyes shot open. “I didn’t tell you to fuckin’ stop.” He sounded pissed but before you could lose confidence you shifted your weight to the side, locking your arms together behind his to roll him over, leaving you on top.
“I wanna make you feel good, Dabi,” Thankfully he seemed to be curious as to what you had planned, letting you stay on top for now. You crawled down his body until you reached his painful hard-on. Wrapping your hand back around him you gave him the most doe eyed gaze you could manage before taking him into your mouth.
“God, that’s fuckin’ good,” He cradled your head and set his own pace, not too rough but far from gentle as you fought the urge to cough. The metal of his piercings were hot against your tongue, the heat unlike any other experience you’ve had before. Wrapping your tongue around him you intentionally hummed, the keening moan it brought from him more than worth the burn. Tears crowded near your eyelashes as he chased his own pleasure, breaking his gaze to crane his head back in ecstasy. His neck bobbed with the effort and the sight made you almost proud.
It was over far too soon and once he pulled away you almost missed the weight of him in your mouth. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you, hear me?” His words made you all too aware of how badly you needed him, but he continued to run his mouth as he pushed you up the sheets and took his place back on top of you, “Gonna fill you so good, babydoll,” He caged you beneath him and you whined at the feeling of his slick cock heavy against your thighs.
His hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me, which do you want?” His blue eyes looked black in the feint light, staring at you with such an amused intensity that you didn’t even register what he said.
“What?”
Dabi tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning closer and whispering, “My mouth? Or my fingers?”
You normally wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye after he said that but liquid courage still ran through your veins and you leaned forward until you could nestle into the crook of his neck.
“Your fingers, Dabi,” You groaned as you felt his grip around your jawline move until his left hand curled around your neck and his right tore off your leggings before slipping below the waistband of your underwear. As soon as he touched you his eyes widened, a feral glint in his eyes.
“Fuck— Doll, you’re so fucking wet,” He squeezed your neck experimentally and the rush of endorphins sent to your head felt divine. It wasn’t to be outdone when you felt him circle your clit with his thumb, rushing into such a fast pace from the get-go. The onslaught of pleasure made a scratchy cry slip from under the grip of his hand. Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you were almost thankful for the immovable grip around your neck. It served almost like an anchor to ground you underneath him.
He pulled a startled squeak from your throat when his two fingers pushed their way inside. It barely hurt, but the maddening feeling of his long fingers curling and stretching your walls was one you wouldn’t forget. Dabi shushed your eager cries with an endless stream of filth whispered into your ear, “Can’t wait to fuck my cum into you, dollface. You want that? You gonna be my good fucking slut?” He was downright mean as he took his time stringing you like a bow. “You wanna feel me drip out of you like a street whore?”
“Yes, Dabi, I’ll be good, I promise just please—” You were too far gone at that point, grabbing fist fulls of dark hair to yank him to your mouth, the kiss muffling his groan from you pulling on your hair. His index finger curled so slightly into you, the pace on your clit turning soft once he added his third finger. The sound he brought out of you was somewhere between a dying choke and euphoric moan, each sensation coaxing you into his touch. Feeling him move so easily within you was almost enough to bring you over, your whimpers increasing against his lips, only for all of it to be taken away.
Dabi left you grasping around nothing when he took his hands away, no doubt enjoying the desperate way you tried to rock yourself back onto him. Only when you did, your lips were met with something far bigger than his fingers.
“Come on...” When he called you by your name it brought you back to earth for a minute, “I want you to beg for me,” looking to see his heavy length pressed against you as he rubbed the glistening tip onto your clit. “You’re gonna beg for a villain to fuck you,” The promise of pleasure was so enticing that it was worth lying to the cops, worth risking your safety, and enough to toss your pride out the open window.
Grabbing him by his hair, you forced him to look at you. “Dabi, please, I need you... Need you in me ‘til you cum,” desperation and lust coated every sinful word you said, but Dabi wasn’t satisfied. “I wanna be good for you, Dabi, want you to fuck me, fill me up, ple-“ your words were cut off by the intense stretch of your walls trying to take him in. You’d never screamed someone’s name so loudly before in your life.
“Oh, fuck-! Shit... your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight,” As each inch sunk deeper you couldn’t speak or even breathe.
He wasn’t wasting any time, mercifully toying with your clit as he filled you. The air felt thin in your bedroom, like you were hundreds of feet from the ground, drawing short, shallow gasps beneath him.
“Da-bi!” His hips ground slowly against yours and you were suddenly thankful for his prepping, unable to come to grips with just how full you felt.
An overwhelmed laugh fell from his burnt lips as he slowly pulled himself from your dripping sex, “What’sa matter, babe? Can’t take it?”
The pout on your face only made him grin, the childish indignity adorable to him. But his teasing was starting to push you to your limits. He might’ve been a powerful villain and you a quirkless civilian, but it didn’t mean he had to treat you like glass. Hooking your legs around his waist you forced him forward. Dabi’s eyes shot open and both of you choking at the sharp friction. Any trace of playfulness died then and there, his knuckles turning white from the grip on your hips.
He kept your legs tight around him as he surged forward, your mouth caught open in a daze. You weren’t sure what his piercings would’ve felt like inside of you but god, was it good. The metal spokes impressed into your body with fervor, constantly dragging against your sensitive walls.
Tomorrow you might say that the wine was what drove you so crazy for him, but you knew you’d be lying to yourself. He was by far the most intoxicating libation you’d ever tried. The sound of skin against skin was almost deafening, only broken by the dulcet groans from the man above you and the siren that still echoed outside your widow like white noise. In the back of your mind you wondered if they were still searching for him.
Dabi leaned his head into the crook of your neck, revisiting the marks he’d already made. His teeth bit down your chest all the while abusing your aching clit. It was all too much. You couldn’t help clawing at his broad shoulders, leaving inflamed tracks in your wake. When your nails made contact with the scorched seam on his back Dabi moaned, the loud whine in his voice got you to realize something crucial. The motherfucker got off on pain.
His touch turned ravenous after that, and pulling you tight against him until there wasn’t any space between your bodies; the rough texture of his skin-graphs and the blistering heat of their staples pushing against your breasts just made his brutal pace feel more intense.
Your voice was higher pitched than you’d ever thought you could manage, squeaking out small moans with every quick pulse of his hips. Your ankles were sore and locked together— he couldn’t have pulled out if he tried. The legs that were still wrapped around him twitched involuntarily as you felt the string inside your core about to snap.
“Fa.. fuck, Da—bi I’m—“ you stuttered against him, crying into his shoulder when you felt his pelvis grinding so perfectly onto your clit while he railed you, screaming his name one more time as he pulled you overboard, being sure to scratch at his back as you thrashed futilely against him.
All at once his teeth were buried into your throat, digging in so hard that you mistook his spit for blood; his bite only sharpening the orgasm that sent waves of heat coursing through you. Against your dented skin he groaned and cursed, his voice coarse but dripping with pleasure as he cursed expletives onto your shining skin. The wetness of your climax dripped down your legs, making him somehow push faster against you, but despite the blinding orgasm he’d thrown you into he couldn’t stop until he’d finished and the overstimulation burned white hot through your entire body. Just as the drive of his cock bordered on painful, Dabi shoved you down onto him, stilling above you and choking on a groan.
Twitching inside your cashmere walls you felt the warm rush of his cum paint your insides as his hips jerked into yours. His heart beat wildly against his chest— you could feel it over yours, his eyes still glazed with pleasure. Dabi was sure to pull out slowly, through the dim glow of your room he could see his cum seep out of your glistening pussy, and he couldn’t help but push his fingers inside you one last time. He might’ve liked pain, but he was an asshole who enjoyed the uncomfortable keen it brought from your trembling lips.
Thin moonlight shone through your window, illuminating the maze of blemishes that razed against his alabaster skin. It might’ve been because of the bleary tears that still half-clung to your eyelashes, but above you, with a winded smile on his torn-up face, he looked half a corpse and half a god.
“Still with me, baby?” He noticed your staring, teasing you by waving his hand in front of your face.
You felt almost high, all drowsy symptoms included, only responding to his question with a feint grin. The wine and the rough sex both made you exhausted in more ways than one, but before you could complain Dabi had shifted his weight off the bed.
“Nooo...” Admittedly you felt a little childish but you couldn’t help but pout as he grabbed his briefs and went to leave your bedroom.
Through the open doorway he’d said, “Just getting a towel, stay put.”
His absence gave you a second to think, staring up at the ceiling with a thousand opposing thoughts bidding for your attention. You just slept with a villain— a murderer. You might side with what he stands for but Dabi was still dangerous. He could’ve killed you tonight, after all. And yet, the only thing you could wonder was what was taking him so long.
Soon he returned wearing his boxers, carrying a heavy towel that he ran under the sink with warm water and took to cleaning the dribbling mess between your thighs. You cooed at his touch, the afterglow of your orgasm cleaned away until Dabi read the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4am.
“You know I can’t stay, right?” He asked bluntly, and you nodded, trying not to let the disappointment show too badly on your face.
“Villain stuff, huh?” You shrugged, curling up into your pillow. Dabi had to continue hunting down the rest of his shed clothes while he mumbled some kind of agreement.
He flashed you a grin while he zipped up his tattered jeans, “Doesn’t mean I won’t break in some other time, doll,” Relief spread through your fingertips once he said that.
Your content smile followed him as he threw that thick coat around his shoulders, walking up to your bedside and leaning low. You grinned, leaning forward and trying to catch him for one more kiss, only to be interrupted by the sound of something below you.
Looking down, you saw Dabi slapping a handful of crumpled bills on your end-table, that smug grin from earlier evident on his face. Without bidding you some kind of goodbye kiss he made his way to the open window, sparing you a glance before saying, “Buy some plan B, alright?”
You hadn’t even thought of it, grinning and waving him off as he swung himself onto the fire escape. The sounds of metal clanging against his boots faded away into the distant echoes of the city, and you brought your hand to your throat. Softly you traced the deep blemish his teeth had left behind, your smile turning giddy as you thought about his promise of another visit, but unfortunately the wine was still simmering through you and without Dabi to keep you awake your eyelids started to feel heavy.
Under your plush covers, you continued to cup your hand over the mark he left as you faded off into sleep, the siren that still echoed through the streets acting almost like a lullaby.
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