its so adorable that in the twins au dabi is smaller than touya. ALSO that dabi really has white hair but dyes it black to look less like touya?? fuckin cute af. i just wanna hump the twins cocks :((( maybe have a little me and dabi day at the zoo while touya is at work, getting all horny and desperate and humping away in the corner of the snake exhibit where its all dark, bc dabi just cant control himself >.< meep 🍓🍓
ISN’T IT?????? :((((( fuck strawberry bb u and me both waaaah
SHHHH STOP zoo dates with dabi would be so so so cute!!!!!
tw: public indecency
touya knows how bored the two of you get when he’s away at work, how restless the two of you get when you have too much time on your hands, how much trouble the two of you get into when left to your own devices for just a little too long.
so, he suggests the both of you visit the zoo, in the morning of one of his busiest days of the week, after you mumble into the pillows about how much you hate wednesdays, his twin agreeing with a muffled, noncommittal grunt.
it’s a weekday, he points out as slender fingers expertly fuss with a navy tie, catching your eye through the full-length mirror he’s situated in front of. which means it shouldn’t be too busy. and it’s not too hot, either—perfect day for the zoo.
and touya was right, just like he always is—the weather is beautiful, blue sky embroidered with the fluffiest white clouds, appearing sown into the atmosphere, and the zoo is practically dead, a result of it being smack in the middle of the workday.
you’ve been flitting from exhibit to exhibit for hours now, eyes bright and smile dazzling as you drag him to the next enclosure, your hand in his, excited little coos spilling from your throat.
and you look so cute, so precious as you observe the cheetahs, fingers tightening around the flesh of his palm and pulling a little in your wonderment as two whiz past you, a peculiar type of innocence enveloping you as you gasp and giggle.
yet regardless of how sweet you are, of how pure you appear, dabi wasn’t blessed with the virtue of patience, and the way the soft breeze keeps lifting the skirt of your already borderline indecent dress, linen swishing with the ebb and flow of the gentle gusts, is the worst kind of tease, fabric drifting to reveal the bare skin of your thighs, sometimes carrying the material high enough to gift him a glance of the pretty, lacy trim of your panties.
it’s driving him up the fucking wall, and he swears to god, he’s going to climb the cage of the cheetah enclosure and throw himself to the cats if the incessant ache in his pants isn’t relieved soon.
he’s surprised you haven’t noticed, truthfully, seemingly oblivious to the way he’s been pressing his body flush to yours, grinding hard flesh against your thigh, the way his eyes have morphed from glittering crystal to gaping navy, massive and ready to swallow you whole, the way his body’s become increasingly rigid, muscles coiled and shoulders hunched and jaw set.
but it’s all he can fucking think about, cock straining painfully against black denim, as if it’s yearning for you—for your touch, your tongue, your cunt—and it breaks him, finally, when you’re in the snake enclosure. because it’s dark, and there’s no one in here anyway—barely anyone anywhere at all—and he just can’t fucking help it, a growl rattling in his chest as he shoves you into the first corner you pass, sharp hipbones forcing your thighs to spread as he wiggles between them.
you don’t ask what’s going on—he doesn’t give you a chance to—crushing his lips to yours as calloused hands paw at your dress, your waist, your thighs, hips beginning to rut the moment they’re wedged between your legs.
harsh breaths echo throughout the tiny building, bouncing off concrete and magnifying as sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, tugging hard before he sucks it into his mouth, tongue laving over the deep indents he left.
he can’t stand the stupid, desperate whines prying their way past his lips, mingled with pitiful whimpers that each roll of his hips pushes from his chest, sounds you eagerly gulp down as your fingers thread through his hair and your nails scrape against his scalp, almost as if you’re encouraging him.
it isn’t graceful. it’s needy, and rough, and uncoordinated, and he should be ashamed—touya would be ashamed, if he could see the way his younger twin is behaving, as primal as the animals that surround him—but dabi doesn’t care.
dabi doesn’t care that the rocking of his hips is awkward and uneven, harsh denim chafing the soft skin of your inner thighs in his haste; doesn’t care that he’s bitten you hard enough to draw blood, copper stinging his tongue as he sucks at the wound; doesn’t care that you’re in public, that this is technically illegal, that touya’s going to crucify him when he finds out—because he will find out.
no. dabi just wants to get off.
and he does, filling his jeans with burning, sticky cum embarrassingly quickly, your name leaving his lips in a cracked moan, fractured by the stuttering of his breath as his hips twitch, unable to quell their pathetic gyrating, even after he’s spilled himself.
it’s you that has to stop him, tender palms running down his glistening neck and then over his toned biceps, whispering stop, stop, stop, your caress soothing the overstimulated shudders coursing through his form.
you’re giggling a little when he finally pulls back to look at you, amusement playing in your eyes conjuring a breathless smile of his own, and his head falls forward, forehead resting against yours. your hands never stop their gentle ministrations as you sigh softly, shifting a little as wet denim rubs against your irritated skin.
“we’re bringing you an extra pair of pants, next time,”
