USING YOU
pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x f!reader
warnings: smut, p in v, 18+ content, degration, humiliation, dabi being an asshole as usual, mocking, petnames etc. not proofread so yeah
a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BEAUTIFUL BABYGIRL LIGHT OF MY LIFE FIRE OF MY LOINS MY ONE AND ONLY SOURCE OF LIGHT IN THIS HELLISH LIFE I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING💙💙💗🎀 lol jokes aside i cant seem to finish none of the fucking drafts i have so tryna save my ass my posting smut. pray for me so i can be productive every once in a while<3
dabi watches you ride him with his hands lazily tucked under his head, his lips curled into a infuriating cocksure grin. he finds it utterly amusing that you — in your cute little head believe that you can get off without his help.
he can feel the way your nails dig in his burnt flesh deeper than necessary, and the way your cunt squeezes in desperation. if he waits just a little more, he’s sure that those tears — you struggle so hard to fight back — will eventually start pouring down.
“damn, look at you going.”
your glare could cut steel, but it only makes him chuckle. he’s been at this for a while, mocking encouraging you too cheekily for your liking. he tilts his head, watching you with those icy blue eyes, half-lidded and lazy, as if this is nothing more than a casual afternoon for him.
"atta girl," he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "almost looks like you know what you're doing up there."
his mocking encouragement makes your blood boil. you dig your nails into his chest hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks, but the bastard doesn't even flinch. if anything, his cock twitches inside you, and the smug look on his face somehow grows even more insufferable.
"you think this is funny?" you bite out, your voice sharp but trembling, betraying how close you are to breaking.
"oh, sweetheart, i think it's hilarious," he drawls, his tone teasing. "you’re working so hard, too. almost makes me feel bad."
almost.
dabi could be so much crueler. brutal, even. you both know for a damn fact that all it would take to break you further are those scarred, calloused hands — gripping your waist, pressing you down, and holding you still.
you know a man like him — a nasty dog with a sick, sick mind who lives the life for the thrill of it would not hesitate to amplify your torment. it ain’t something he didn’t do before, not in the slightest. and that ridiculous arrogance you were putting on, like you could keep up the facade, only made him more eager to tear it down.
“mhh—ah, fuck!” but then again, you sure were a sight to see. sweat glistening on your delicate, plushy skin. tits bouncing with every jump. your face scrunched into the purest mix of determination and desperation. brows furrowed, eyes squinting with need, lips parting to draw in sharp, ragged breaths.
you’re utterly adorable. and dabi’s stained heart harbors just enough innocence to show mercy. plus the way your tight, spasming walls clutch at his aching cock feels just right to stop it.
"need a hand there, doll?" his smirk deepens, his sharp teeth flashing like a predator toying with its prey.
“nah, you've got this, right? you’re a big girl. don’t let me stop you."
your thighs burn, muscles trembling with the effort, and you can feel the humiliating prick of tears at the corners of your eyes. his cock fits perfectly, the stretch overwhelming but delicious, and yet no matter how much you grind down on him, you're still not there.
but dabi? oh, dabi is patient. he’s the kind of man who takes pleasure in your defiance, only because it makes breaking you so much sweeter. he can see the cracks forming-how your breaths come quicker, how your movements grow more erratic, and how your nails dig into his scarred chest out of sheer frustration.
his tip kisses your cervix with each jump, his girth hitting all the right places, but it's not enough — not without his hands on you, guiding you, wrecking you like only he can.
it’s maddening. his nonchalance, the arrogance that radiates off him like it's his rightful crown. he lays there, sprawled out like he's the king of the damn world, watching you struggle for something only he can give.
and he has every right to be this way. you’ve dug your own grave by bitching that you didn’t need his help to cum, and now you were supposed to lie in it.
you lift yourself until only his tip remains inside before dropping back down, over and over. the motion repeats to the point where your cervix aches, and your walls grow numb from the strain. the slick mess coating both your thighs shines bright like a slap on your face. hours of jumping on his dick — yet still, no one of you has came.
"you done yet?" his tone is syrupy sweet, dripping with sarcasm. "or should i grab a book to pass the time?"
another roll of your hips, hard enough to probably break his dick, and he groans — not loud, but enough to let you know you're affecting him despite his infuriating composure. you think that maybe after this, he’ll decide to shut the fuck up.
though his grin shifts, becoming something darker, more predatory. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you know—you just know—he's about to make it worse.
“careful," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "don’t start something you can't finish."
something in his gaze tells you to give up this torture already, and the effort you put into hiding the shiver that runs down your spine fuels his ego more than any words ever could.
“you think you can keep this up?” he raises his brows. the condescending gleam in his azure eyes is enough to shatter whatever remaining confidence is left in you to pretend.
“wanna cum so badly, but all you’re doing is making a mess of yourself on my dick, babe. don’t get mad at me just because you can't finish the job."
you bite back a frustrated whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.
“c’mon, doll.” he says just about a whisper. blue orbs shining with authority, far too eager to be considered sane. "what’s it gonna take? you gonna beg me? cry a little, maybe?"
"fuck you," you spit, your voice trembling as you no longer can keep your composure. the tears he predicted begin to well up in your eyes.
"oh, you are, babe." he thrusts up suddenly, and the unexpected movement rips a gasp from your lips. his hands finally leave their lazy position, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise as he slams into you once, twice, stealing your breath. "but you're just not doing it right."
your nails dig into his chest, your pride screaming at you to push him away, but your body betrays you, grinding down harder as his hips meet yours again. the bastard chuckles darkly.
"bet you wish you never started this, huh?" he teases, his voice dripping with malice. "can’t even finish, can't keep up. just a fucking mess."
your head tilts back, a moan slipping from your lips as the tension in your core coils tighter, closer to snapping with every thrust. you try to speak, to retort, but the words get caught in your throat as he fucks into you relentlessly, too deep, too fast, and it's all too much, too overwhelming, too fucking good.
the tears fall freely now, hot against your cheeks, and you bite down on your lip to stifle the sob that threatens to spill from your throat. you can’t fight them anymore—not when he’s balls deep inside your aching cunt, not when the coil in your abdomen boils with need.
“go on babe, beg me.” he chuckles maniacally as he thrusts into you so hard, you’d think it teared past your cervix if you weren’t burning with the need to cum. "i know you want to. i’ll even let you soak me if you ask real nice."
you glare down at him, teeth clenched, but the way his thumb brushes over your bottom lip makes you falter. his grin widens as he sees the defiance in your eyes waver, your body trembling with need.
"say it," he whispers, his voice low and taunting. "and maybe i’ll show you some mercy."
you hate him. you hate him — but the way his fingers dig into your waist and the heat in his gaze make it impossible to resist.
and you know, you just know that he can keep you on his dick for another 2 hours, make you sob and stain the whole bed until you beg him for that very mercy he’s offering you now.
"…please," you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. it’s so pathetic that your eyes shut close at the sound of it.
for a moment he doesn't say a word, but the dark gleam in his eyes speaks volumes, and that sick, twisted satisfaction blooms on his face.
"good girl," he murmurs, the words dripping with mockery, but there's a faint edge of something else there too — something you don’t wanna inspect. "i knew you'd crack."
he doesn't give you a second to breathe. his hands grip your hips, guiding you to take the pace he wants, setting a brutal rhythm that leaves you no choice but to follow. the way he looks at you, like you're nothing more than a toy for him to play with is sick, and definitely isn’t something that should make your aching pussy clench around him.
“gonna pull some shit like that on me again?” he groans lowly. and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was plotting on your death by the dangerous look he’s giving you.
you shake your head, tears blurring your vision. you know that he thrives on the fright he gives you when his grip on you tightens. the way his cock twitches inside as he watches you sob brokenly.
"see? that’s all you had to do," he coos, his grip forcing you to keep pace with his punishing rhythm. "next time, maybe you'll remember who's in charge, yeah?"
he keeps slamming you down onto him, drawing strangled moans and broken cries from your throat. hips snapping up to meet yours with a punishing rhythm that has your vision blurring. his eyes drink in the sight of you losing every bit of control you had, his smirk softening into something wickedly affectionate.
"come on, baby," he urges, his voice rough and commanding. "give it to me. let me feel you."
and just like that, you shatter—your body convulsing around him, trembling and gasping his name like a prayer with juices gushing all over his dick. he groans at the feeling of you clenching around him, his own release following shortly after as he buries himself as deep as he can go, his grip on you tightening.
when you collapse against his chest, panting and spent, he tilts your chin up with a burnt finger, forcing your wet and lidded eyes meet his gaze.
"next time, don't try to play games you can't win," he murmurs, his voice low and smug, before leaning up to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, sealing his victory.