ᢉ𐭩 pairings: izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, tomura shigaraki, dabi
ᢉ𐭩 content warning: suggestive, implied sex, slight mentions of blood and killing, swearing, ab pics.
ᢉ𐭩 synopsis: you accidently send some pictures of you testing on some lingerie to the wrong person!
ᢉ𐭩 authors note: mannn idk what this is but enjoy. also this is my first mha chatfic, i usually do blue lock ones so this might be out of the ordinary
neito monoma would be a little shit about it. he's prideful in general, but with his partner?? woooooo....absolutely smug. neito would dramatially wrap himself around you. that is his lady. and no one else can have her. he'd also totally grab the phone camera to show you off more TEEHEE
tamaki amajiki would turn to stare at you with wide eyes in confusion, blinking slowly as you quickly looked at the camera and then back at him. he'd open his arms for a hug, expecting you to fall into his arms. when you shake your head, tamaki would move to hug you instead. how dare you deny him his hug >:(
mashirao ojiro would wrap his tail around you to pull you in before bringing you into his arms with a kiss to the forehead. the sweetest guy around, i tell you. mashirao would be super gentle bit still firm, not afraid to love you out loud for the camera. he'd have the cutest little smile on his face as he pressed kisses to your face.
fumikage tokoyami would summon dark shadow to wrap around your waist, but would come closer to lift you up from the ground once he saw the pout on your face that he didn't wrap himself around your waist. he couldn't keep you sad, after all. fumikage would carry you like a princess <3
shota aizawa would be horribly confused at first, giving you the meanest side eye you've ever seen him give. ouch! he'd be a little late with his reaction as it processed in this mind, but shota would awkwardly step closer to you before wrapping his arms around you in a cute hug. a little stiff, but still a 10/10 response!
dabi grab you by the hand tightly and tug you harshly towards him with a giant ass smirk on his face, causing you to nearly hit the ground as you were tugged into a falling position. that little shit...but overall, dabi wouldn't hesitate to pull you to your feet saying that he "caught you" and kiss you roughly
hawks would excitedly pull you towards him and envelope you in a big hug. you know the cliche in films of putting up a hat to block the camera while the two characters kiss? hawks would do that with his wings. cute, timeless, and overly sweet. teases you later about you wanting to do that trend, but he enjoyed himself too much.
you go and pick up your boyfriend from j-j-jaillll !!
"he's all yours, ma'am."
getting a call from your local police station telling you to come pick up your boyfriend from jail is not how you wanted to spend your friday evening. but here you are, standing at the foot of his cell with an expression so petrifying that even the officer standing beside you has to take a step back and avoid your gaze.
touya watches him unlock the cell with a grimace. the second the cell door slides open, you take a step forward—and touya does the most reasonable thing he can think of in regard to his safety and slams the gate closed, effectively locking himself back up again.
there's a moment of silence before you let out a gasp of absolute disbelief.
"touya, i swear to—"
"sir, i don't feel safe with her here. can't you, well, i dunno—make her stand a couple of fucking feet away from the door so i can step out without getting my face bashed into the nearest wall?"
the officer takes a long look at touya, who has the audacity to clasp his hands together in a plea, while you turn towards the officer with a raised brow.
"...you have her listed as your emergency contact. you'll be fine."
touya seems offended by the officer's words, but he doesn't argue any further as the man fumbles with his keys before unlocking the cell once again. touya steps out tentatively, shoulders slumping and a pout tugging his lips downwards (a half-assed attempt to look innocent, really) and you try not to let your eye twitch.
"officer, could you tell me just what he did again? i've seem to have forgotten what you told me." you state dryly, watching touya squirm under your gaze as he strains his wrists against the cuffs wrapped around them.
"uh—he was caught vandalizing a gas station. you know that one mr. takami a couple streets over runs? then he, uh, sort of beat him up."
"oh, come on—"
"shut. up. officer, please take us to the front desk so i can fill out the necessary papers and take him home."
the entire ordeal took only a little under an hour. and before touya knew it, he was back to being his usual passenger princess self beside you, though he had to keep one arm braced against the door and the other gripping the middle console for his own safety.
"babe, you are driving way too fast."
big mistake. if touya knew better, he would've held his breath all the way home instead.
"do you know how worried i was? did you know i was in the shower when they called? you're paying the hospital bill coming in the mail one of these days for when you finally send me into cardiac arrest with all the shit you pull, touya!" you snap, and since you were at a red light, you remove your hand from the steering wheel and give touya's ear a harsh tug, just for good measure.
"okay, i get it—ow that fucking hurts! let go of my ea—i mean, sorry," he wheezes dramatically, and you finally let go of your grip on him with a huff when the light turns green.
"you're lucky they let you off so easy. seriously. i think you deserve at least—wait, are you not wearing your fucking seatbelt?" you snap, looking back and forth between touya and the road like this entire day was the most irritating inconvenience of your life, and touya can only scramble to put it on while mumbling a string of apologies under his breath. he peers up at you wearily, and you turn away from him and back towards the road with a grumble and tensed-up shoulders.
you're in a really bad mood today.
touya wants to tell you that he's sorry and that he knows he's wrong, but he's afraid that if he looks at you a certain way or says the wrong thing, you might just use your bare teeth to bite his head clean off.
so, he settles into his seat quietly and allows you the peaceful ride back home you deserve. now that he thinks about it, you've been under quite a bit of stress lately. it takes touya half a second to realize he must have made it worse, and it takes him another second more to remember that today was your only day off of the week—and he sinks back into his seat with a frown.
touya throws a careful glance at you through his peripheral vision, taking note of the tired look in your eyes.
you were worried about him when he got arrested. picking him up from the police station when he knows no one else would. fussing over him not putting on his seatbelt and being safe. and that is when touya is reminded why the only number in his emergency contact is yours.
it's because you love him, dearly and with all your heart, even when he acts like an exasperating little shit (e.g., the stunt he pulled today).
carefully, as if he's getting ready to pet an angry cat that loves to scratch, touya takes his hand and drapes it over your thigh, rubbing gentle circles as he presses his fingers into the fabric of your jeans. you don't push him off you, merely sighing through your nose and keeping your eyes on the road, and touya takes that as a sign that you're not too mad at him.
"when we get home, i'll run a nice bath for you to relax in. we can order takeout, and i'll massage your legs real good, you know, just the way you like after a long day." he says softly, and his touch is tender enough that you can't help but melt underneath it.
touya made staying mad at him really hard.
"fine."
"we can watch a movie too, your choice—you won't hear a single complaint from me. i'll even tell kei i'm sorry, even though that jackass was lookin' at me funny and started the whole—whatever. just know that i'm sorry, doll. i mean it."
touya doesn't tell you how he's only sorry for causing you stress, not sorry for rightfully knocking keigo down a size. but you finally do glance at him—and your face has softened into the very smallest of smiles. that sight alone is enough to warm touya's body entirely with love.
"alright then."
touya keeps his word, just like he always has. he carries you into the apartment bridal style just to hear you laugh again, he lights a candle for your bath and massages your shoulders and temple as you bathe, and he doesn't even bat an eye when you flick through your tv shows and select pucca. no, he settles into your side and passes you his favorite blanket instead.
touya makes mistakes often—all the time, actually. it was his specialty, but he liked to blame his miscalculations on bad luck or the universe working against him. but, then again, it didn't make sense for the universe to be working against him if he had you—a gift to breathe life back into him, the light of his life, divine intervention, if you will.
he'll work on himself to be better for you, and you'll recognize his efforts and dote on him accordingly. you make touya somewhat civilized and human, and for that, he is forever grateful.
-> all the times Dabi fucks you, and the one time Touya does.
warning/s: extreme smut, pure filth for the whole fic, breeding, dub con (? not sure adding this just in case), angst, possessive touya, filthy touya, cum eating, cream pie, overstimulation, drugging (only at the start), pierced cock, belly bulge, mean dabi, rough sex, fluff, hello i kno this looks too smutty to be angsty but don’t underestimate me, ANGST
word count: 8.5k
a/n: enjoy u sluts
Dabi is a vile, sadistic man.
That is the only way you could describe him. It’s hard not to, when he’s got you drugged and high on his sorry excuse of a bed— a futon that harshly smells like him amongst other repellent scents— and he’s pounding harshly into you.
You’re not truly against it. If you were, you wouldn’t be here. The only thing you’re against is Dabi‘s atrocious behavior and his fucking habit of doing things behind your back.
Such as drugging you before pounding your brains out. Not because you wouldn’t consent— you always do when it comes to him— but because he wants you pliant, wanton, obedient during sex. You’re not exactly one to give him the upper hand, and you have a foul mouth, too, and the burnt idiot loves nothing more than to— and you quote— ‘remind you of your fucking place‘.
Limp. Overstimulated. High off his stupidly perfect cock that just fills you in ways nothing else ever has. That’s what stokes his ego and brings him joy the most.
“S-slow dow— ngh- D-dabi—!”
Not to mention the way you beg him. He’s nothing but utterly thrilled each time he has you like this, which isn’t often given your attitude, but it happens— when he takes all his frustrations out on you and goes a little too hard, or maybe when he uses his quirk on you to give you a little scare. Now, that he’s found out he can simply slip a pill into your mouth while fucking with you, he’s overjoyed. You can’t resist his kisses, after all.
He snorts, listening to your whines and cries, but does nothing to slow down. His pelvis smacks harshly against your ass, and he grunts as he doubles over to make sure you feel just every inch of his pierced cock.
You shriek, crying out as you try and fail to escape his grasp. He holds you tightly by your hips, fingers digging into your skin, and he almost fucking growls when you squirm to the point his dick slips out of your abused hole.
That earns you a spank, and him a loud squeal from you, which basically is all you can do in a state of haze.
“Fuckin’ drugged ya and you’re still a dumb bitch— stay- the- fuck- still-! Shit!” He emphasizes on each word with a spank to your ass, the pain spreading all the way down to your thighs and you nearly give out. He holds you tightly, sloppy dick thrusting into you over and over again as slick drips down on both of you.
Dabi licks his lips at the sight, the way each time he pulls back your slick pulls with him, the way there’s a near white ring around your hole, his pre-cum having done the job of getting you wet prior. Your clit is puffy and neglected and he has no intention of touching it until you’re begging like the whore you’re supposed to be, and his fingers glide through your folds to spread you as much as possible.
He’s vile. Cruel. Loves to make you feel vulnerable and weak beneath him.
It’s not long until he realizes your face is tear-stained, and he laughs at that too, bending over so his front comes in contact with your back and his face is near yours.
The flat of his tongue drags all the way up your cheek, licking the salty substance away from your skin— and you huff, furiously craning your neck so you’re turned away from him.
He doesn’t like that.
“What do I have to do to get you to comply, princess? Why can’t you just—“ he groans, burying himself inside of you and completely stopping his cruel abuse to your hole.
That, more than anything, is even worse. You whine as his weight overtakes you, and your thighs finally give out as you collapse flat into the bed, Dabi laying comfortably on you with his dick all the way up your cunt.
You swear you feel his tip poking your cervix.
Reflexively, you clench down on him— (and gosh does it feel good— partly because his girth stimulates you and partly because he moans out, obviously weak for pussy).
Nevertheless, he laughs almost breathlessly, nuzzling his nose into your neck.
“Why’re you bein’ a bad girl, hm?”
Because you fucking drugged me.
Because you’re a fucking asshole.
Because you’re a villain and I’m a hero and you’re ravishing in the thought of humiliating me.
Because I keep coming back to you.
“Don’t you want to be my good girl? C’mon, I’ll even eat your pussy afterwards, how’s that sound?”
You’ll do that anyway.
“Fuck you, Dabi.”
He huffs, already having expected that answer. Honestly, it thrills him even more. He enjoys to be mean anyway, in bed and in general.
“Fine. That’s on you, then. Don’t blame me if you have to take a few days off.”
Your greedy cunt— traitor that she is— welcomes his mean thrusts with loud squelches as he sits up, dragging your hips with him and your weak knees plant into the sheets again. He makes sure to still within you each time he bottoms out, moaning and letting pleasure overcome him as he tries to go beyond any limits and bury himself even further into the warmth of your walls. His cock twitches, his piercings barely noticeable with the amount of slick that’s between you and him.
You regain just the right amount of feeling in your fingers to fist them into the sheets, a high shriek erupting from you.
Dabi’s merciless— you’ve known that from the very beginning, from the first time he talked to you because he claimed he was curious about you. You knew back then, too, that he was a crude, cold-blooded villain, one who had no problem with blood on his hands, but somewhere in the very back of your mind curiousity spiked despite yourself, and you found yourself wondering if said villain had a heart big enough to actually feel something.
(And you found out; he could feel, alright.)
He flirted even back then, even when you were supposed to be hero and villain, when there shouldn’t have been any interactions between the two of you except for fighting, for making sure neither would block the others way ever again. And Dabi was quite charming when he truly wanted to be, when he let that lazy smirk curl just right and his voice dip low enough to make you forget what he was.
And you, with your hope long lost in hero society— because recently, all you’d been doing was fighting to save the few people you loved, and hero society had long since collapsed, if it had ever truly existed at all— had seen no real wrong in letting one of the most dangerous villains fuck you from time to time.
With a mean snap of his hips, you’re brought back to the current.
“Stay with me, doll. ‘Boutta fill you up— you want that? W-want me to ruin ya so the next bastard who lays his hands on you only finds me inside of you? Keh—“
He barks out his usual mean laugh, and tears slowly emerge from your eyes. You feel so fucking helpless, so weak and vulnerable and just like he loves it.
And you’re so, so desperate.
You do want him to fill you up. You need it.
His hips stutter as he continues his assault, dick pushing in and out your soft cunt— he thinks it’s beautiful, the way you take him and reject him at the same time. Squirming away like you don’t want his dick to be the only presence up your fucking pussy.
“My sweet little cumdump. Why’re you bein’ so difficult— someone piss you off earlier so now you gotta be a little whore?”
You mewl, shaking your head as you thrust your ass back, earning you his chuckle that easily causes your heart to skip a beat. He pulls out, and you almost, almost thrash out at the loss of contact, but the second his tip pokes at your folds, you calm down, despite it not being inside you like it should be.
He spreads your folds once more, dragging his leaking tip all over your labia before circling your fluttering hole, snickering at the way you’re trying desperately to spread yourself more— to invite him within your snuggly, warm insides.
When his cum is spread perfectly, all over your clit and folds, he goes back to pounding you meanly.
This time, you’re already embarrassingly close, as if your pussy is taking the opportunity to release before he changes his mind and pulls out, edging you for god knows how long.
“Feel ya gettin’ tighter. Gonna cum?”
You nod, because you know it’s always best to answer Dabi.
The consequences if you don’t are something you’re truly not up to deal with today, “Please— D-dabi- w’na cum-!”
He laughs, speeding up his pace until you feel the familiar coil in your abdomen. It heats up similar like the rest of Dabi, and you have a hard time focusing on it when his hands grip into the flesh of your hips and warmth spreads all through your body.
“F-fuck, gonna fill you up s-so good- shit— cum goddamnit— fuckin’ cum-!”
With his demand, you release, thighs and hands and every other part of your body you can practically feel despite the drugs trembles as your pussy gushes all over him, and he buries himself all the way inside of you, grinding in a way to stimulate friction without having to pull out even at the base.
You think it’s cute. Somehow, that he wants to be all inside of you and cuddled into you while unloading his hot, sticky cum and painting your walls white.
He grinds against your ass, riding out his and your orgasm at the same time, though it’s you who gives in first and you feel the hints of your overstimulated pussy begging him to stop.
He doesn’t, though, ‘cause Dabi’s too busy making sure his cum is all the way deep inside of you while his dick is still hard, and he throbs painfully against your velvety walls— to the point, you’re worried he didn’t even soften and he’s up for another round.
Luckily, he does soften eventually, after your cunt milked every bit of him and he’s tired grinding and circling his hips into you to get bits of friction.
He pulls out slightly and you hiss at the emptiness, all the while he dislikes the way his cock feels too bare and lonely without your perfect pussy.
“S-stay- Dabi, inside- please.” You cry, because you physically can’t straddle him and get him riled up to keep his cock inside. You’re still mad at him, for that, for forcing you into a role where you’re only able to beg to get what you want and what you don’t.
Fortunately, and very luckily, Dabi actually listens to you— (and gosh, if you’re not surprised by his tip poking your hole again— he laughs, “Wasn’t that what you wanted, sweetheart?” you quickly nod— “Uh-huh!”)
He pulls out rather quickly again, changing his decision and turning you around so you’re laying on your back. He sheathes himself inside of you just then, his own face coming down to lick and nuzzle into the crook of your neck.
If you didn’t know Dabi, you’d think this was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you.
But you know him, and you know he’s shameless and blunt and sees no deeper meaning in doing this apart from the pleasure he receives one way or another.
Dabi does as he pleases, and never bothers to put a label on any of these things. Not that you mind, he is a villain, and you’re simply here for a good fuck.
Though, you’d be lying if you said the aftercare wasn’t good (which more often than not is just weird, close intimacy where you usually end up cockwarming him or taking a shower together).
Your hand— now finally having fully regained your feelings there— comes to cradle his hair, fingers sinking into his soft black tufts as your other arm embraces him.
You don’t want to know what the two of you look like. Some lovesick fools, probably— him still buried inside of you, grinding faintly against you and sending shocks of pleasure up your body, your hand in his hair as he sucks and nibbles at your neck, his whole weight and— dare you say— affection swallowing you whole.
But you know better by now, that some things should be left alone, that not everything needs a confrontation and a label to keep you somewhat afloat and content.
“Still mad at you, by the way. Don’t drug me again or I promise your dick won’t be able to stand hard for a long time.”
He licks all the way up to your jaw, planting rotten kisses all over you and you feel yourself getting sick with something you don’t want to acknowledge. It’s worse than any nauseating feeling, crushing and yearning and wanting more— but you don’t voice it, even when everything he does makes you feel like a giddy little teenage girl again.
Warm puffs of breath hit your skin as he chuckles, “I’ll hold you to it.”
You wish, somewhere in the heart you claim to be nonchalant and independent, that he’d stay in more ways than just physically inside of you.
He doesnt know when or why he started talking to you about his missions, but other than a misbehaving thug here and there, his life was pretty fucking boring.
He also doesn’t know when your casual hook ups turned into hang outs— but he refuses to address that as much as you refuse to look him in the eye every time he stays.
There’s times you end up cooking for him, telling him about things he‘d personally consider a topic sensitive to most, but you’re not one to back out, he knows that.
“—like I said, I don’t care about any ranks or other heroes, Dabi.”
He scoffs. Everyone cares about their rank— everyone strives to be the best, and you in particular seem to be just that type.
“Bullshit. I don’t tolerate liars, princess.” He rasps, and you know he’s trying to lure you into a trap that ends with him punishing you in bed. His voice is a dead giveaway, and so are the thighs he spreads shamelessly— it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s already half hard, turned on by simply talking— or by imagining the nasty things he wants to do to you.
You sigh, reciting your earlier words because apparently he’s having a hard time hearing (intentionally, you assume), “I never said I don’t want to be strong. I do, but I don’t care about ranks. Or how many villains I’ve caught and left to rot in prison. I care about protecting those close to me—“ the plate in your hands is warm, a freshly made dish that has Dabi’s stomach churning, and you bring it to him, slyly tapping his nose before retreating again, “eat up, I made too much.”
Of course.
You always conveniently make too much.
He doesn’t waste any time digging in, it’s not exactly easy getting food on the streets and he’s pretty fucking tired of eating the same garbage shit. Your cooking’s much better, obviously.
“What about me?”
He’s a messy eater.
You perk up, closing the tap water in order to understand him better.
Much to your surprise, he stands up, long legs allowing him to move quickly and efficiently— and before you know it, he’s behind you, heated hands placed on your hips as his head dips down until his breath hits the back of your neck.
You don’t freeze, in fact— you do the opposite, eagerly leaning into his touch and sighing at the warmth he emits by the second. You can practically feel his smirk etched into his face.
“Do you care about protecting me?”
He clarifies, his chest rumbling against your back and he’s met with reality when you turn around, facing him boldly and tilting your head with a tight grin.
“Do you need protection?”
Slipping under his slender arms, you escape the human cage, only to be met with the sight of a clean plate, realization dawning on you that he’s eaten everything within less than a minute.
Your heart hurts, even if only for a second.
When you look back over your shoulder, Dabi’s still there, grinning at you like you’re not riding an emotional roller coaster— like you’re not struggling and trying to find out what it is you feel about this man. He’s not a kid. He’s not weak— emotionally or physically— but for some reason..
“I care.” You hum, “I care. I’d protect you.”
And just like that, his grin slips off his face and you’re met with silence you know all too well. You don’t dwell on it though, letting Dabi do as he pleases— he reminds you of a stray cat, more often than not, coming and leaving whenever he wants to.
Except this time it’s not him fleeing your apartment.
It’s you.
The next time Dabi spots you, he’s met with a clustering pang to his heart instead of the usual excitement, and his jaw clicks as he drags his tongue over the metal stapled into his skin, because he fucking hates that he even has a reaction like that in the first place.
You’re outside, wearing your torn hero costume, and there’s a rip that exposes just about too much collarbone and your cleavage. And it doesn’t look pretty given the blood and the dirt covering your skin, smeared across you and he thinks it should make you look ruined and ugly— but somehow it just makes you look more tempting and vulnerable and his, and it’s enough to have any man keeling over for you and Dabi‘s very well aware of that.
But it’s not the injury that’s causing his emotions to feel all weird and wired up, it’s the fact that there’s another fucking male next to you, walking just a little too close, and Dabi thinks that alone is a valid reason to kill him. His eyes are glued to your chest, practically eye fucking you without even trying to hide it.
You don’t seem too bothered, probably too idiotically innocent to realize your hero friend might not be too much of a hero himself, too wrapped up in your own bleeding knuckles and the praise he’s feeding you to notice the way his gaze burns into you.
Dabi wants to burn him.
He wants to watch him scream and curl in on himself and beg, wants to see that stupid wannabe pro hero facade melt right off his face until there’s nothing left but the smell of cooked flesh.
Dabi wants to burn you, too, just to teach you a lesson about standing around like that, just to see how you’d look under his flames, writhing and gasping and still looking at him like he’s the only one you’d ever follow, but that’s something he still debates on doing for reasons he refuses to voice.
He shifts uncomfortably, and before he can think too hard about why the sight of you like that makes him feel like he’s choking, he flicks his hand and sends a sharp burst of blue fire slamming into a dumpster at the end of the street.
You both turn, startled, and Dabi doesn’t miss the way the hero beside you immediately stiffens and reaches for you like he’s going to play the protector.
The fire spreads just enough, and Dabi steps back deeper into the alley’s darkness, letting the smoke draw you in like moths, because he knows you’ll follow his flames and he knows that idiot won’t let you go alone.
Sure enough, you rush towards the alley to assess the problem, dragging your little hero friend with you, and the moment you step past the veil of smoke he lets the flames die down— and then, he steps out.
“Well isn’t that cute. A little duo.“ Dabi drawls, eyes raking over you first before sliding lazily to the guy at your side, “You two here to fight me?”
The wannabe’s bravado cracks almost instantly, because everyone knows who Dabi is, everyone knows what he’s done, and the guy wonders just why he followed the blue flames without even thinking who they might’ve belonged to.
A sound escapes your throat that’s more akin to a hurt animal, and you almost seem irritated by the whole thing (good. Dabi hopes he ruined your little date or whatever that was), “No—“
Dabi tilts his head, flames flickering in his palm, and the light kisses your exposed skin. He smirks when he sees the other man flinch (and feels weirdly proud when you don’t).
“I’ll burn you both to ash right here,” he begins, and watches as you roll your eyes because you already know what he wants, “so unless you want to watch her scream while her pretty skin melts off, I suggest you run.”
It’s not even a real threat to you and you both know it, because even as he says it he’s angling his body just slightly so the flames are closer to the other man, but the hero doesn’t catch that, too busy swallowing hard and backing up like the coward he is.
“Y-you’re D- you’re Dabi—,” the guy chokes, already stepping away.
Dabi wants to kill him just for being this pathetic, truly, it’s embarrassing to be here on his behalf, “You- you- you— better fucking leave now or I’ll burn your limbs one after the other.”
As much as Dabi truly wants to kill that guy, he doesn’t need some fucking department tailing after him for that, much less the attention he’d bring now if he’d do so. He doubts the degenerate would be quiet while he made it hurt.
It doesn’t take much more than that for the wannabe to bolt.
His gaze slides back to you, and he clicks his tongue in a disapproving manner.
“Got real friendly with that hero back there,” he speaks as he wanders to you, fingers hooking into the torn edge of your costume, tugging it and it’s enough to remind you how exposed you are, how easy it would be for him to ruin you further, “lettin’ him stare at you like that.”
It isn’t a question, and he doesn’t wait for an answer anyway, because Dabi’s never needed permission from you before— he’s never been gentle or soft or anything like that, and seeing how he’s not scared you off yet, he can only assume you must be just as a sick as he is.
His thumb drags over your collarbone where it lays exposed, smearing a streak of soot across your skin, causing you to cringe at the mess that’s covering your body.
“Can’t have you forgettin’ who you crawl back to,” he murmurs, and before you can roll your eyes or snap something smart back at him, he’s stuffing his dirty fingers into your mouth, twirling your tongue between his thumb and pointer, watching as you shriek in surprise. He snorts, “Dirty girl. Forgot whose cumdump you are?”
The sounds of your gagging is enough for him to pull his fingers out and replace them with his mouth, teeth clashing as his tongue darts out to poison you with his intoxicating presence. His fingers grope harshly all over your body as you mewl and hold into him, enjoying this far more than you should.
He pulls back only when he’s satisfied, eyes hooded and filled with pride.
“Pathetic,” he mutters, though it’s unclear whether he’s talking about you, the degenerate hero, or himself.
And then, he finally does shrug off his coat, but instead of immediately handing it to you, he drapes it over your shoulders slowly.
It’s obvious when you regain yourself, shock melting away as you flash a toothy grin, “What was that all about?”
It’s only then Dabi finds himself in a situation where he can’t possibly think.
What was it about?
“You jealous, Dabi?”
Jealous?
Jealous?
Of fucking course he’s not jealous.
He’s got no reason to be, not when that idiot punk couldn’t even lay a hand on you, not when Dabi’s done that a hundred times before and plans to do it a hundred times more, not when he knows exactly how you sound and how you look when you’re under him instead of standing there smirking like this.
“I don’t get jealous, doll.”
It’s simple— he’s fucked you, kissed you, spent days rotting in your apartment and eating your food— you’ve let him cum in you— him.
You’re his. Just like that.
While he’s already marked you up more than once, while you’ve already got his bite marks fading into yellow and purple beneath your hero costume, while you’ve already carried his seed and fragments and god fucking knows what else inside you without complaint, it’s safe to say that you belong to him and he doesn’t want someone else’s spunk anywhere near you.
You’re his to ruin.
His to hurt and his to poke at whenever he feels like it.
“Then why’d you scare him off? He was supposed to help me to the agency.”
Dabi scoffs. You don’t need any fucking help. And if you do, then you certainly can take care of your own ass. He’s seen you in worse positions and you’ve crawled out of them just fine.
“He assisted me on my mission.”
No the fuck he didn’t. If he had done that, you wouldn’t look like someone let their wolves loose on you.
“He did a really good job back there—“
Again, no he fucking didn’t. And why are you praising him so much? What are you doing?
Are you trying to rile him up on purpose?
“You’re right. We could be a good duo.”
And something in Dabi snaps so fast it makes his vision blur at the edges, because he knows you’re playing with him, knows you’re poking at the ugliest parts of him just to see how he’ll react, and he hates that it works.
What could he do, though? You’re a manipulative little shit and somehow always two steps ahead, and for a split second he genuinely thinks you’ve put some kind of curse on him, wiggled your fingers and shwoops—! suddenly he’s moving before he can stop himself.
His fingers dig into the soft skin of your arms, his stance almost trembling with wide eyes that makes him look like a feral animal. His mouth is twitching, the sharp of his teeth revealing under all the fury.
“You’re mine,” he spits, and it’s enough to make you take him seriously, “only mine, got it? Get that through your thick fucking skull.”
He remembers that day perfectly. It plays in his head over and over again, when he’s sleeping, eating, or doing fuck knows what, looping over and over against his will.
He remembers just how humiliated and— dare he say— vulnerable he felt when you’d spoken, much less frustrated than he’d expected you to be, much less angry than he’d prepared himself for after basically snarling ownership at you.
You laughed at him. And he really wanted to set you on fire right then and there, wanted to watch the alley light up just to drown out the sound, all the while knowing he would rather burn himself a hundred times over than never hear you laugh like that again.
You’d been amused, head tilted slightly— the stance that always makes him just a tiny bit weak for you, and you told him that yes, he’s right, and if that’s how he sees it then fine— you’re his.
You weren’t mocking him, (though, he wished you were. It would make being mad at you easier), and you weren’t acting like a clingy, lovesick idiot either, (fuck, if you were, he’s pretty sure it would’ve made him recoil right away). You seemed entertained, almost like he was a kid and you were indulging into his childish fantasies.
“If I’m yours,” you’d spoke, calm in his hold, “then act like it properly, Dabi.”
You looked too much in control, and it pissed Dabi off to no end.
He remembers the way his throat went dry, how for a split second he genuinely didn’t know what to do with himself.
He’d left after that, because that’s all Dabi knows how to do.
He’s no longer Dabi. He’s Touya now and everyone knows it.
It doesn’t feel good, this tightness under his ribs, this awareness that you’ve seen the worst of him broadcasted to the entire country, and Touya— Dabi either avoids or destroys the things that nearly bother him.
He’s thought about the latter a few times. He’s thought about killing you— because all you are is just a measly hookup he prioritized a bit too much, especially on the days he was assigned to a mission, and once, Compress even ended up having to fight some thugs himself while Dabi fucked the shit out of you in your apartment, not even bothering to answer his comm, and he doesn’t regret it, even if Shigaraki swears he’ll dust his ass one day for it.
He’s tried it, too. The killing.
While you slept beneath him, warm and pliant and trusting (and shit, it made something sour twist in his gut), he’d let his mind wander to darker places, imagining what it would be like to press you down harder, to let his weight crush the air from your lungs, to listen to your choking breaths and broken little cries as you realized too late who you’d let into your bed.
A dead man.
But every time the fantasy shifted wrong.
All he could find pleasure in was imagining you suffocating in him. Just him. Not his weight or hands or whatever would actually bring you pain, just you clinging and gasping because you couldn’t get enough of him, because he was too much and you still wanted more.
It ruined the whole thing.
He blamed his dislike for the idea of your death because it just seemed too pathetic. That suffocating to death was not nearly as painful and exciting as he had died.
You, and he’ll admit as much, deserve enough respect to die in a battle, not naked and tangled in sheets with him hovering over you like some common creep.
That’s just about how he finds himself standing outside of your apartment, hands nestled into his pockets with not a care in the world.
The lock to your door gives in easily, as it’s always done, and Dabi wonders if it’s because all the times he’s snuck into your privacy. It’s ridiculous, all the damn pay you get and you still choose to live in an apartment with lousy neighbors.
The scent that lingers in your apartment— your scent— fills his sense immediately, and the nervousity subdues almost instantly.
It’s late— and just like the thousand other times Dabi’s found you, he finds you in the kitchen, leaned over the counter, scrolling mindlessly on your phone.
And just like always, there’s a half full glass of wine, hinting that you’ve been drinking once again.
The scenery looks like one from a movie as you look over your shoulder, spotting him closing your door abruptly.
“Miss me?” He drawls, stalking towards you. You turn around fully, hands supporting your weight by the counters as you face him.
His hair is white now.
“Dabi,” you say, even though you know that’s not his name.
His eye twitches.
“It’s Touya.” He corrects you, pathetically eager to hear his name in your tongue, “You call me Touya.”
He crowds your space, heat radiating and making you lean into him almost immediately.
He finds it fascinating, that with each time— no matter what he does— you’ll always lean into his warmth. His fingers hook into your waistband as he urges you to say his name.
It comes off easy on your tongue, though you still tense slightly and he feels it, “Touya.”
You try, really, to soften in his grasp, to stay relaxed and purr into him like the cat he wants you to be. You want to, but it’s hard and you barely even know why. He feels like a whole new person.
“Hm?” He hums, tilting his head down at you, tone almost mocking, “nervous now that you know my name?”
He can tell you’re trying to be a comforting presence but you’re failing miserably, and he soothes his thumb along your hip as he snorts, “Or are you trying to see if I’ll go easy on you?”
“Maybe.” You mutter, your hands trailing to cradle his white hair.
But he laughs cruelly, leaning down until his mouth is just shy of your ear, “Too bad, sweetheart.” His tongue travels up the shell of your ear, and you shiver at the ticklish feeling, “I was never planning to.”
Your hands end up around his neck, his hungry mouth assaulting your neck.
And despite his burns, and the fact that he can’t feel anything on them, you leave a trail of kisses along his neck.
“You watch the broadcast?” He asks, and you nod, “Whole thing. Do you.. want to talk about it?”
Gosh.
He does.
He really does.
But he’s not here to tell you about his sob story, he’s not here to hear you validating him and lovingly cradling his head as you always do, he’s not here to feel the comforting sound of your voice.
He’s here to take you, to ruin you to his liking.
He wants to hurt you. So badly. He wants to squeeze you until you moan in pain and beg him to stop, wants to fuck you until you’re crying and speaking of him like he’s the only person to have ever existed.
“No.” He scoffs, thumb dragging under the hem of your shirt, “can’t believe you’re still letting me fuck you after that.”
“Well, you’re lucky I’ve got a high libido, then.”
It’s meant to be a joke, but Dabi— Touya growls nonetheless, roughly lifting you to set you on the counter. He pulls your pajama pants down in a swift motion, your panties following, his body slotting between your thighs as his fingers harshly assault your clit. You shiver, moaning his name.
He freezes, blue eyes locking into yours.
“Say it again,” he murmurs, finger dragging down in between your folds and circling your hole, “C’mon. Use it.”
You oblige, “Touya.”
A shudder runs through his body at the mention of his name, and there’s an obvious sign that he won’t be able to wait anymore as he pulls away, tugging his pants low enough until his cock springs out, muttering under his breath just what a good girl you are.
It’s your turn to freeze, and you gasp as you realize what’s wrong.
You’re not prepped enough to take him like this, and while you’ve had tons of times where Touya— no, Dabi fucked you like a cockdesprate slut, or mainly just for his pleasure, he’s never done anything without properly prepping you. After you’d voiced your displeasure about his pierced cock hurting too much without enough arousal to lessen the friction, he’s always made sure to make you cum once or twice before taking you. Not that it takes long with his skilled fingers and tongue— and even the thigh you ride from time to time— hell, as far as you can tell, he even enjoys having you writhing beneath him like that.
“Wait, wait Dabi!”
“Hush. You’ll take it, won’t you?”
Pre-cum is leaking from his tip and you can tell he’s been horny for a long time, unlike you, who hadn’t even expected his visit. He’d been off and gone for a few weeks, and you truly, truly didn’t expect him to visit you a few hours after he’d revealed his identity to the entire world, and amongst all of that, almost massacred his own family.
He spreads his cum over his dick, pumping it a few times to reach a thin sheet of gloss all over his length, and eventually (much to your relief) he even spreads you one more time, wetness coating your folds and your hole as he assesses whether you’re wet enough or not.
It’s truly not all up to his liking, and if it weren’t for the animalistic urge to fuck you almost immediately, he’d spend a few more rounds getting you all wet and bothered.
You whine and there’s not much of a warning when he spreads your legs, sinking his cock into you without much resistance. His piercings graze your walls— a mix of pain and pleasure ringing through your body, but all of it gets overtaken when Touya leans down to lovingly kiss your cheek.
It confuses you. So much.
You don’t know what this man wants. You don’t know what he earns and what his motives are now— why he seems to be in such a rush to fuck you desperately and lovingly through the whole night.
Nevertheless, you’re grateful for the kind gesture, even if the un-kinder gesture is almost ripping you open.
“I told you to call me Touya,” he mumbles, having at least the decency of letting you adjust to his size and girth. You moan, hands gripping into his biceps for some kind of anchor, sighing, “Ah, Touya…”
It makes him calmer, you notice, the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name, his birth name, the one he resented and dropped when he realized he’d been forged into a monster.
It’s still beyond him, that you, sweet girl, are willing to get fucked by someone like him, a man made of patchwork skin and burnt bits.
He works diligently into you, his dick raw against your walls, metal sitting uncomfortably inside of you with the lack of foreplay. He hisses when he bottoms out, and you trap him between your thighs, clenching them as hard as you can around him. It hurts.
But you try so hard to be good for him. You want to. You want to hear his praise and make him feel good as he buries himself inside of you. You want to be the shelter he seeks, even if you’re not the shelter he’ll keep— because Touya— (or Dabi, as you’ve known him) doesn’t settle.
Amongst the pleasure and pain and the ache in your heart from his soft kisses along your neck, you feel an unfamiliar dread brewing in your abdomen.
Having had this much fun with Dabi over the past few months, you’ve forgotten what a bad gut feeling felt like.
That’s why, even as he pounds into you and the pain fades until you’re moaning for him to give you more, more, more! you’re trying hard to keep the nauseating feeling from rising any further.
it’s horrible, the way it sets in your body and waits to come out in overflowing words, building up and up until you’re spewing disgusting shit that’ll guarantee Dabi leaving you right here and now.
Please, don’t leave me.
Stay. Please, Touya.
Instead, you spread yourself even more, giving him more access because you can tell the way you’re clenching your thighs is slowing his movements and he’s already aggravated as it is.
His brows are furrowed and you’re tempted to soothe the folds out with your thumb, just to remind him that you’re here, that you’re not leaving.
In the end, you settle against it, because he’s mouthing harshly at you now, his fingers digging into your hips and thighs until you’re sure you’ll bruise by the end of this. He’s fucking you with such furiousity that you know he’s fucking you not for your pleasure but for something far deeper.
It’s not even about his pleasure, either. You’re sure, because in that case, he’d bend you over and lube you up with his cum or yours until you’re overstimulated, and only then would he give you his dick.
He loves making messes. Loves when both of you are thrashed and disgusting with cum.
“My girl. You’re my girl, fuck— right? Tell me, baby. C’mon use your mouth— shit!”
You don’t know what it is he wants you to sate, you have no clue, because Dabi’s not one for possessiveness over his sluts, and nor did he ever need any kind of affirmation of love during sex, but you can’t exactly debate whether to obey him or not when he’s growling and dragging his finger down your slit, rimming dangerously around the hole he’s stretching so good.
The threat is clear, and you’re very sure you wouldn’t be able to take a fucking finger while he’s got you dumb on his cock already, you panic instantly, whimpering out his name.
“Yours, Touya! I’m yours!”
“Promise me. Go ahead and promise me— you’re my cocksleeve, my cumdump, no one gets to touch this cunt ‘xcept for me!”
The pleasures building up within you, and it’s turning you into the usual cockdrunk bitch as always, the words not quite slipping past your lips. The most you can do is form coherent thoughts when his dick throbs intensively, his tip nudging the same spongy spot over and over again, and his piercings applying pressures all over you.
But he makes sure to remind you with the threatening finger near your hole, slipping the first few bits and it has you crying out, thrashing with your hands as you hit him weakly.
“Touya! Touya— ahh, I promise Touya! I promise!! ‘m yours! All yours!”
Even as the finger leaves your abused hole, and even as he keeps pounding you with his painfully hard cock, you find yourself still sobbing like a mess, tapping more than hitting his biceps as you try to squirm away from his assaulting dick.
When he realizes his strokes aren’t quite as deep as they used to go, he becomes aware of the way you’re attempting to get him off, being petty as you are, and he lets out a sound akin to a growl as he uses an ounce of strength by grasping your thighs and pulling your pelvis’ together until he’s flush against you and your jaw drops at the feeling.
To reassure you won’t pull this bullshit again (and to make this all a bit more pleasurable), he places one large hand on your ass, the other under your thigh as he picks you up.
He drags you all the way to your room, and you can’t help but clench around him with the way his cock sits still inside of you, throbbing, and he winces before grinding you against him.
It’s a pleasure you’ve never felt before. A ticklish kind of feeling, small bits of joy tingling all over you as the familiar warm bubble builds up in your abdomen.
He’s gentle as he sets you on the soft sheets, but rough when he lifts your thighs until you’re folded in half and he’s roughing you up. His heavy balls smack against your rear, a loud slapping noise joining the ongoing squelching and moaning.
His pace increased, and soon he’s panting with the way he’s fucking into you. You’re bucking your hips up desperately, trying to meet him halfway even if you do it every two strokes because you simply don’t have that much fight in you.
He fucks like a man starved, and it’s not long until the throbbing and the heat of his dick intensifies and you’re screaming his name. “Fuck baby, can feel ya cumming, sweet girl. G-go ahead- make a mess-!”
And as if to make matters worse (better), he presses his large, warm hand down on your abdomen, where he can feel his own cock impaling you by the second, and you scream.
The pressure from getting pounded and your abdomen clutched tight is too much, and you cum with a harsh shudder of your body, Touya following a second after.
He doesn’t slow, though, he always makes sure to stuff you full of his cum and man sure it’s deep and engraved within you, even as his flaccid cock barely has any fight left.
He pulls out when you start twitching a bit too much, trying to regain his own breath while prodding at your pussy.
He loves the sight. Loves it so much, he goes all the way down on his stomach, soft dick comfortably against the softness of your mattress (and very much soaking your sheets), and he uses his tongue to scoop whatever’s escaped back into your hole.
It’s nasty, and it makes you whine as you tug on his hair and shove your cunt into his face.
And as always, it’s not long until Touya hardens, not with the way his cum is leaking out of you, the way you’re soft and swollen and fuck— it’s almost like your pussy is begging for him to fuck you again— and who is he to deny you? He’s been grinding his dick against your mattress, speeding up the process of getting all hard again.
He clicks his tongue when he catches your tears, wondering just why it is you’re sobbing.
(And he knows. Fuck, he knows. He knows you’re hurting and holding back, and it’s not because the sex was a tad more painful than usual. You’re a smart thing, after all.)
“Hey,” he calls out, tapping your hip to catch your attention. He does, his own heart clenching when you tilt your head to look at him with those sad, sad eyes.
“Ride me, baby. Let me make you forget.”
Forget that this is the last time.
You both know it, but none of you speaks up on it. Instead, he lifts your body until he can sprawl across the bed with you hovering over his dick.
You’re overstimulated, and you almost beg him to wait, but Touya’s brain barely catches the fact that you look more panicked than aroused. He sinks into you slowly, a shrill cry escaping your lips. He fully sheathes himself inside you, the room filled with your foul sounds.
There’s so much cum.
So much, trailing out of your hole and wetting him, too. So much, that it has its own sound as you shakily raise your hips and attempt to bounce on him.
So much, but not enough.
Touya wants you overflowing with his cum. He’s not leaving until you’ve milked every drop of him and he’s milked every of yours. He wants to ruin you in ways that’ll remain permanent, that’ll carry his scent and soul and everything you can possibly think of.
And so, he makes you bounce on his dick until you’re out of it and he’s forced to pound his shit up to you, all while guiding your hips to take his length.
He fills you like this, too, and after lightly tapping your cheek and waking you up from your haze (“Not done with ya, princess. Wake up.”), he takes you in countless other positions.
You don’t truly know how long he’s been at this, but by the striking pain in your cunt and the non-stopping shudder of your body, you can only assume it’s been hours.
Hours of him fucking you, filling you, you passing out every two to three orgasms, and him waking you to repeat the cycle.
And each time, he tells you that you can take more. That you will take more.
(Though, your body’s numb and so is your mind.)
By the time he’s done with you, his dick has long passed any limits within your cave. He’s panting, and so are you, your recent orgasm having felt more like a force of pleasure you tried to hold down. When you look into Touya’s eyes, you see he’s already looking at you with an unusual grin.
No, not a grin.
It’s a smile. He’s smiling at you, even if it looks strained and inhumane with the way the corners of his mouth split just slightly, and if it weren’t for your body being literally shut down, you would’ve soothed your fingers down his lips.
His smile turns into a toothy grin when he thrusts his flaccid cock into you, more of a nudge than anything you could consider pleasurable, and you cry out. “T-Touya-.. no- no more..”
“Relax, crybaby. Look.”
You follow the line of his gaze, landing straight to where the two of you remain connected.
There’s so much slick and cum all over the two of you, you could consider bathing in it.
But that’s not what he wants you to look at when he slightly pulls out only to bury himself inside again and suddenly—
Fuck.
Your eyes widen as you sputter— a clear outline of his dick right in your abdomen. And you wish you could control your body— but it acts upon its own when your cunt clenches down on him at the sight and you whine loudly.
You’re not quite sure, but you think you came alone from this.
He laughs, rubbing and grinding his pelvis for a bit of friction.
“You cum from this, doll?”
Dignity is something you’ve lost along the way. You nod, using your last bits of strength to wrap your arms around his neck.
He leans down to you, chest to chest, settling on top of you and weighing you down.
You sigh, the feeling comforting after hours of rough fucking and claiming. He lazily grinds into you, and you think, if that’s how he wants to put an end to this, then you’re not against it.
The slightest spread of your legs gives him more access, and he takes it as he breaths heavily against your neck, kissing and biting with pants that get heavier on each thrust.
It’s your lips he goes for when he empties himself inside of you, rubbing out his orgasm before finally, finally going limp.
You don’t question the drops of liquid that slide down his face and into the hollow of your neck, and nor do you particularly care about the dark red stain they leave behind.
Instead, you linger on the last words you heard before the world went black beneath you.
“Watch me when I’m out there, doll. Let me show you just who you let into your life.”
You wanted to, gosh, you wanted to correct him. The words scraped the back of your throat. Maybe somewhere in the haze of your dreams, you whispered them, a soft, trembling sound he couldn’t catch. Maybe he didn’t hear them at all. Or maybe he did, and it didn’t matter.
You wish you could’ve corrected him, that he not only carved himself into your life, but into your heart, too.
And the same heart he destroys when you wake alone, the only thing left from him are the cum stains all over your body.
a/n: this was supposed to be like 3k words. I got lost somewhere along the way.
轟燈矢 ⸻ coming apart at the seams × todoroki tōya ⏾ʾʾ dabi
❥ happy valentine’s day !!
dabi has a difficult time cumming after all of the damage that his flames have done to his body :c
content. f!reader, helping your sweet boy cum because he needs it and deserves it, hj, slight femdom before he fucks it out of you, oral (m&f!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, praise, piercings
and he has no idea why the fuck he confided in you about this — it’s something that he was never going to tell anyone. like, he would literally rather go the rest of his life without ever being able to bust another nut instead of getting any sort of help, if it meant not having to speak a single word of it to a doctor. and the fact that he would tell you, someone that he has to face every day, is unfathomable.
but here you are, and he’s splayed out on your big, comfy bed that smells like lavender and fresh laundry and you, letting you gently coax him out of his shell with your pretty little hands all over his big cock.
and his piercings — they’re gorgeous, and they’re all over. aside from the ones on his ears and nose, he has a tongue stud, the prettiest nipple barbells, navel piercing, a heart-shaped dermal that sits right above his trimmed pubic hair, and a frenum ladder that makes you drool just from looking at it. you’re gonna get your tongue on each and every one of those pieces of metal, gonna make him feel loved and appreciated and so, so good.
but he’s so insecure that he doesn’t even want your mouth on him. you’re too fucking perfect, too soft. you shouldn’t even be touching a disgusting freak like him, much less pleasing him. honestly, you’re in love with him, but any time that you show it, he convinces himself that it’s his affection-deprived mind trying to make something out of nothing.
and god, he wants to cum so fucking bad. it’s been weeks, if not months.
“t-that feels … mmph, fuck.” dabi moans, and it sounds so pretty.
he has one hand in your hair, the other on his chest before sliding it down his scarred, toned body, then sinking his matte black nails into your sheets, hissing through clenched teeth.
he’s anxious, but he’s still closer than he’s been in weeks; his entire body is molten, flames flickering against his palms and threatening to ignite because he has so little control right now .. it’s all yours, and you’re loving every second of it.
“such a pretty face.” you purr, looking up into his eyes through your long lashes while you stroke his long, gorgeous cock.
the pale skin on his face flushes and he looks away for just a second, pouting and drawing his brows. “s-stop — don’t say that.”
“why?”
“because it’s not true.”
“dabi, baby, you’re a pretty, gorgeous thing.”
strangely enough, that was more comforting because you called him a pretty thing instead of a pretty boy. there are tears in his gorgeous aquamarine eyes, mixing with the small rivulets of blood that catch along his stitches and tint his thick, snowy lashes a soft, diffused red. he looks like an angel.
“f-fine, I’m close, just please—”
“I told you to shut up and take it, did I not?”
“yes, mama…” he pouts, before crying out, “oh! fuck,” feeling you suck him into your heavenly mouth again. you slide down his shaft, your soft lips gently catching on his piercings and it makes him shiver in your hold. you have to use your hand to stroke his base because it won’t fit, your other hand kneading and cradling his balls. he’s a wreck, both hands now holding your face as you do your best to deepthroat him.
“oh my god..” he’s whining and you have to pull back for air, stroking his length as quickly as you can while you watch him carefully. his hips are chasing your touch off of the bed, eyes crossing as he finally, finally cums all over himself. you catch some in your mouth, but it’s too much, painting his perfect abs in thick, glistening white. the poor thing is shaking, practically crying as he tries to come down.
“good boy, dabi.” you praise him, still gently pumping his cock, leaning forward to lick up every drop of cum and it tastes so fucking good.
“call me toya, please.” and his voice is shaking.
“t… toya?”
he looks at you with the biggest, sweetest puppy eyes, his brows drawn from pleasure, whimpering deep in his chest. that’s his actual name? huh, cute.
you kiss around his navel piercing, humming against his warm skin. “yeah, toya? you did such a good job, baby. are you feeling better?”
he nods eagerly, abruptly saying, “I can keep going, I need more of you.”
“yeah? you’re certain it’s not too much?”
“it’s not enough … I’ve never even come close to feeling this good, baby, please, I need you.”
“you don’t have to beg for it, I just wanna take care of you, okay?” your voice is so honeyed and sweet, and you’re saying exactly what he wants to hear.
“then let me eat that pretty cunt, baby, please, I wanna taste you.”
“yeah? you like eating pussy?”
“I love it.”
he sounds confident but he swallows nervously, gently guiding you onto his face. his chest is still sticky with his cum, but he doesn’t even care. you have an insane hold on him, and he’s completely lost in you.
“mmm, toya, fuck.” you mewl, one hand in his hair and the other on his thigh. you’re perfectly arched back over his body, just the right angle to grind your clit on his tongue and that little metal ball, gently rolling your hips up and down while you both gasp and moan into the cold air.
he tongue fucks you just enough to fit two of his fingers, and you’re close, but you need him inside of you. you forgo the impending orgasm for something even better — his big, perfect cock stuffing you absolutely full.
“just fuck me, please.” you cry, pulling him away from your aching pussy by his thick, snowy tresses.
“oh, was it bad? I haven’t done that in a while—” he pouts, softly kissing your inner thigh.
“no, baby, not at all, i just need to feel you.”
“I don’t wanna hurt you—”
“toya.”
and that’s all he needed to hear. he sits up as you eagerly adjust to straddle him, laying your face against his warm chest, rubbing your glossy, soaked pussy against his tip. he shushes you softly as you whimper and whine, spreading you with his hands on your ass to help your tight pussy slide down onto him. his tip catches, and then his piercings — his cock is perfectly shaped, and the cool, smooth metal makes him feel like a living sex toy. the feeling is breathtaking, literally.
“toya, god, you feel so fucking good.”
( he whines whenever you say his name. )
you sigh in content once you’re seated fully, sucking on his neck as you slowly pull yourself up and back down, setting a languid pace that makes dabi’s head spin. you rotate your hips just enough so that you can feel each and every one of the barbels on his ladder piercing with each bounce, threading your hands through his soft, silky hair just to keep yourself grounded.
“you feel like heaven, baby, so good for me … I don’t deserve you.” he whispers in your ear between soft grunts and groans, lightly sinking his perfect teeth into your neck just to taste your skin. you whine and keen into him, riding his thick cock a bit harder now.
the dermal piercing on his pelvis bumps against your clit with each impact, making you want to melt into him and never let go. it’s like a soft little kiss with every drop of your hips to reward you for how good you’re riding him, and the added stimulation is pulling you even closer to the edge.
you’re both a mess, just kissing and panting and crying, with both of his big, pretty hands on your ass to help you keep pace. you pull away to flick your tongue against one of his cute, pink nipples, gently sucking the barbel into your mouth and he moans like a bitch in heat.
you do the same to the other side, and he almost cums right then with a deep, shuddering breath, but there’s no way that he’s going to let himself cum a second time before you do even once. he locks his hands around your waist and finally decides to take control. dabi doesn’t even pull out as he lays you down, sitting up on his haunches with one hand holding your hip.
you cross your ankles around his slutty waist, bringing him just a bit closer. his thumb searches for your clit, and his touch feels so much better than the pelvic piercing. it makes your back arch off of the bed so pretty, and dabi leans over you, his free hand stabilizing himself on the mattress by your hips while he fucks you even harder.
each push and pull has your tight pussy holding onto him for dear life. you can feel every ridge of him, be it his veins or the metal, as he desperately drags himself through your warm, velvety walls. his strokes feel ethereal, and his tip grazes your cervix if he gets just the right angle.
dabi is silently in awe of the perfect expanses of your soft skin, and he almost wants to dig his nails in to ruin it, to create bloody red tracks amidst the silken canvas but it’s you — and you’re allowed to be perfect, even if nothing else is … even if he wants to destroy absolutely everything else.
“god, you look so fucking pretty on my cock … my perfect angel girl.” he exhales, readjusting his hips upwards so that his tip hits your sweet spot. “I’m already so fucking close again, baby, doin’ so good for me.”
your toes curl and you nod, just letting yourself feel everything. “just like that, toya, just a little bit harder, you won’t break me, I can take it — o-oh!” and god, is he desperately obeying every single one of your words, just trying to make you feel good, to feel your pretty cunt squeeze and flutter around his big cock when you finally cum for him.
all of your nerves are buzzing, your stomach in scalding knots as the pressure continues to build. you’re close, but it’s not until he lays one of his palms flat across your pelvis to feel himself moving inside of you that your body can’t take it anymore. dabi is pressing on that little squishy patch from both inside and out, which makes you cum with a loud, unrestrained cry.
“oh my god, so pretty.” he’s practically whimpering, settling as deeply inside of you as physically possible, grinding that little heart-shaped piercing against your clit while your pussy soaks all over his cock, but you wrap your hands around his back and pull him in.
“keep fucking me until you cum again, I need it inside.” you tell him, and it’s way more intimate than you intend. you’re friends, but it’s not like your relationship will ever be the same after this. not when you make each other feel this good, not when you’re the first partner to ever make him cum, and it was so easy for you.
“you’re so fucking good to me.” he kisses you again ; it’s messy and heated, no thinking, just satiating his need to taste you.
it’s a lot, it’s too much, but you need him to feel good, and you need him to stuff your pussy full of his cream. the overstimulation is almost numbing, and you feel like you’re floating in a warm, gentle ocean while dabi’s body laps against you just like waves hitting the sand.
“fuck! gripping me so tight like you were fucking made for me, doll, your pussy is too fucking perfect, shit, I can’t—”
“cum, toya.”
he shivers in your hold, groaning into your mouth as you feel thick, hot ropes flood your cunt. he pulls away to rest his face in your neck and a shimmery, sticky line of spit briefly connects your lips. he’s panting, trying to collect himself while he listens to your breathing and you play with his hair, but he can’t stop shaking, it’s too much.
“that’s it, baby, good boy.” you shush him and he whines, nearly collapsing on top of you before pulling you into his arms. he brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your blushed cheeks.
you’re quiet for a few moments, just feeling him against you, letting him come down, gently running your fingertips along the stitches near his jaw .. but you can’t stop yourself from teasing him just a bit : “you’re buying the plan b.”
( this was only supposed to be a handjob .. and possibly head if that didn’t work … )
“hm? yeah, I guess we better stock up.”
“toya!” you whine, pouting so cutely that he has to kiss you. “sorry, sorry .. I’ll pull out next time.” he relents, feeling slightly guilty. you sigh, but you’re not actually annoyed, smiling when you look over at him. “fiine, I’ll refill my birth control just for you, pretty thing.”
先輩 ⸻ written by senpai with love
notes. I worked really hard to have this ready for valentine’s day, so I hope that u liked it :3 bakugo, kirishima, megumi, and yuji fics soon !! if you liked this, please consider reading my ↬ dabi headcanons :D
( I love love love love him and writing about him !! )
[ @slutsenpai ⨯ my masterlist ] — likes, reblogs & comments much appreciated! ◟♡ do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing anywhere for any reason
