#I really want to tag this as dumbification because of who I am | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kkodzvken · 3 years

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take the dive - sugawara koushi x milf!reader

tags/warnings: smut, 18+ ONLY! slight dubcon, infidelity, post timeskip (suga teaches reader’s kids). overstimulation and slight dumbification, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public (in an empty classroom)

a/n: this is my piece for @ultimate-astridwriting’s milf fuckers collab, which you can find here!! thank you for hosting this astrid, and thank u to everyone in the server for ur love and support as i worked on this <33. title cred: take the dive by jonghyun

wc: 3.9k

Amidst a faculty full of stuffy old dinosaurs and suits, Sugawara Koushi is a breath of fresh air. He’s a welcome distraction, a pretty face to focus on at dull PTA meetings and assemblies. And you knew that you weren’t the only one making heart eyes at him. Everywhere that he went, heads turned, and moms whispered. At the bus stop, on the sidelines of sports matches, in the waiting rooms outside dance classes.

It was just that, though -- just whispers. Little knowing glances and nudged shoulders, dreamy sighs and brief sinful indulgences. Nothing more than a brief escape from the monotony of your everyday lives. You’d lose yourselves in the fantasy for a few seconds, and then pull your heads down from the clouds and plant your feet on solid ground. You enjoyed your gossip with the other moms, and then you returned home, to your husband and children. To your family.

You love them, of course. Your children are your world, and your husband is a good man. He’s a good man, and that’s what made it so hard. He treats you well, keeps his words soft and never once put his hands on you.

He may be good, but, God, was he boring. You can’t remember the last time that he’d even kissed you, let alone fucked you. He came home later and later each night, too tired from work to do anything but silently scarf down his dinner and plant himself on the couch in front of the television. He dragged himself into bed hours after you did. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but he woke you up every single night with his stomping and shuffling. When you snuggled closer to him, he pushed you off. My back hurts too bad, he’d say, voice tinged with regret. Remind me to book another appointment with the chiropractor.

It was always some excuse or another.

So, really, you couldn’t blame yourself for your wandering eye. You weren’t going to act on it, of course -- you weren’t a cheater -- but the young teacher was something to occupy yourself with. A pretty face to fill your thoughts as you wrangled your horde of screaming kids from swim lessons to dance practice to art classes. A pretty, pretty body to imagine as you fucked yourself with your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was him, lithe body leaning over yours. No complaints of aching backs and sore muscles, none of the complications that came with age.

You’d leave your husband catatonic on the couch, put the kids to sleep, and then go dream of their hot teacher. You should’ve been more ashamed, but there was a part of you that loved the thrill of it. You flushed whenever you saw Mr. Sugawara the next morning, memories of your illicit thoughts filling your mind, but it also made your body feel electric.

Of course there was a part of you that longed to throw caution to the wind and jump the young man, but your conscience was much stronger than your weak, lustful thoughts. You were happy with the way things were now. As dull as your husband was, and as insufferable as the children could sometimes be, you were happy.

This was all you had ever wanted. A house in the suburbs, a husband with a well-paying job, three kids and a dog. You’re living the fucking dream. You’re happy, you tell yourself.

So why the fuck are you so unsatisfied?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With a deep breath, you stare down the heavy glass doors at the school’s entrance. You want nothing more than to find the idiot architect who designed this building, and strangle him for installing pull doors. Your arms are already sore from carrying the giant tray of brownies from your car to the front of the school, and you worry that if you put the treats down to open the door, you wouldn’t be able to lift them up again. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you have two minutes left to reach the gym where the bake sale is being held. The PTA president is notorious for hating latecomers, and you weren’t in the mood to get your head bit off.

You’re debating doing some gymnastics and using your foot to grab the handle, when you notice footsteps approaching from behind you. You open your mouth to ask for help, but they beat you to it. “Let me get the door,” says their syrupy, melodic voice.

Their familiar voice.

Your body practically freezes as a strong arm reaches over your shoulder. Long fingers – fingers that you’ve fantasized about too many times to count – twist the handle and push it open easily. You don’t know how you didn’t notice him approaching sooner, but now that he’s here, your senses are in overdrive. The sweet scent of his cologne, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his body – it’s all too much, and it makes your knees feel weak.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you say, voice coming out much breathier than you intended. This must be some kind of Pavlovian response from all your fantasizing, because there is no reason for your stomach to be twisting right now. “Thank you.”

He grins sheepishly and steps away, and you hate the way that your body screams at you to lean into him. “It’s no problem. Is that for the bake sale? Here, let me carry it for you.”

You try to protest, but there’s really no point. His long fingers are already pushing yours to the sides, and you swear you’ve been electrified as he pulls the tray out of your hands. It’s a shame, really, that he’s wearing a button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, at least, but you would’ve loved to see his biceps flex as he carried that tray…

What am I doing? You dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of your thoughts, but it’s hard to stay lucid when he’s so beautiful. He carries the brownies with ease, using just one arm to support their weight as the other holds the door open for you. It should make you upset, that you’re so weak in comparison to him, but the thought just makes you feel even more breathless. He’s so strong, so young, and so unlike your husband.

“Thank you,” you say again as he steps into the building behind you. You reach for the tray, but he waves you off.

“Nonsense. I’ll walk you to the gym.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Anything for my favorite mom.”

His…favorite? His words leave you too stupefied to protest any further, and he takes your silence as compliance. Your body automatically follows in his footsteps as he paces down the hallways.

He looks over at you and smiles comfortingly. It lights up his entire face, but does little to ease your turbulent thoughts.

Your mind is still fixated on his words as you step onto the squeaky wood flooring of the gymnasium. Sugawara calmly walks over to the PTA president, who looks like she’s about to rip her hair out. She’s surrounded by a gaggle of other moms, all jabbering away with concern painted across their faces.

“Is something wrong, ladies?” he asks. His voice snaps them all out of their conversation, and their eyes widen as they take him in.

“Yes,” says the PTA president scornfully. “We were supposed to have the brownies here already! The sale starts in ten minutes, and if this keeps up, I won’t have enough time to inventory everything and make it presentable, and –”

“I have the brownies,” you cut in, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

She blanches, and looks from you to the tray in Sugawara’s arms. An oh is all she can muster before grabbing the brownies and rushing off.

“Is everything okay?” one of the other moms asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness. “Oh, and you look so tired, dear. If you couldn’t manage your part, you should’ve just said so!”

“It would’ve been no trouble,” another woman says. “I’d have had no trouble whipping up a tray for you! Everyone always does love my baking.”

You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at them. It’s always like this – the other moms seem so in tune with their lives of domestic bliss, playing games of politics and constantly competing to be the best. Try as you might, you just can’t satisfy yourself with a life like theirs.

The material of Sugawara’s shirt brushes against you, and you start. He doesn’t pull away as you flinch, instead gently resting his hand on the small of your back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal her away? Mrs. (L/N), I have your son’s science fair project sitting in my classroom. He keeps forgetting to bring it home. Would you like to go collect it now?”

You nod, relieved at the excuse to escape these women and their sickening artificial sweetness. Sugawara gently guides you with the hand on your back. You can’t help but internally smirk at the thinly-veiled jealousy on the faces of the other mothers.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sugawara says, once you’re safely out of earshot. “All these PTA moms are so fake. But you’re not like that, are you?”

You nod, still a bit convinced that this is all a dream. He doesn’t remove his hand from your back as you walk down the hallways, and only pulls away when you reach the door to his classroom. He fishes through his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, before insert one into the knob and pushing the door open. He gestures for you to enter first, and so you do, blinking at the harsh sudden brightness of the automatic lights.

You awkwardly glance around the room. You’ve been here plenty of times before, but that was all during the daytime, when it was packed full of energetic children. It feels…strange, to be alone in a classroom as an adult. Or, well, alone, except for the stupidly attractive teacher that you’ve been lusting over.

“Where’s the project?” you ask, trying to diffuse some of the tension building in your stomach. “I should head home soon.”

Sugawara leans his back against the door and cocks his head. “You know, I know what you say about me.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes rove across your body, lingering on your chest for far longer than they should. “I’m not deaf, you know. I hear all the things you say about me. You’re just like all the other moms.” He pushes off the door, stalking closer to you. You instinctively take a step back. “Only difference is, you might actually have the guts to do something about it.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, so hard that you think your ribs might bruise. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Sugawara. I-”

You take another step back, and another, and suddenly your back collides with concrete. Your body jolts, and you yelp at the sudden pain.

Sugawara leans closer. One of his hands braces against the board behind your head, and the other one comes up to cradle your face. His long fingers hook under your chin and press, forcing you to tilt your head up and meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lip, and you can’t deny how the sensation makes your body feel like jelly.

Every rational thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away from him and go back to your husband, but God, it’s been so long since you’ve felt like this. It’s been so long since someone’s made your heart race and your breaths quicken, since someone’s made you blush like a schoolgirl over a simple touch.

“What was that you said?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek. The pain does nothing to clear the fog inside your mind. “I-I don’t, I-”

“You do,” he interrupts, his thumb still toying with your lip. “You’re so fucking obvious. I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Sugawara!” His lewd words make you gasp, but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s right. Your body has a mind of its own, and it wants nothing more than to wrap your lips around his thumb and pull him closer. It wants to feel his arms wrapped around you, feel his body towering over you.

But you can’t. As much as you want to, you can’t, because you have a husband at home who’s waiting for you. Sure, he isn’t home right now, because he’s putting in extra hours at the office. And sure, he hasn’t touched you or made you feel desired in weeks. Hell, you haven’t had a genuine conversation in weeks. But he’s still your husband! You try and remind yourself of that. You roll the thought around in your head, hoping that it’ll push your thoughts of Sugawara away.

But the young teacher is persistent, and there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes your chest tighten. “Call me Koushi, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess –”

“What, you’re going to pretend that it didn’t make you wetter? Going to pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together right now?” He leans in even closer, so that his breath brushes against your ear as he whispers. “Your body doesn’t lie, baby.”

A whine slips past your lips at his words, and then you gasp, mortified with yourself. But the grin that covers his face makes your transgression worth it, because God, he’s handsome. His hand squeezes your chin even tighter, and then trails down to your neck. Your breath catches in your chest. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, of his fingers trailing across your skin, his touch feather-light. It leaves you aching for more.

You instinctively whine again, and he lets out a noise of surprised delight. “Whining like this, and you’re still denying that you want me? What’s got you so embarrassed?”

“I have a husband,” you hiss – or, at least, you try to hiss. It comes out more like a whimper than anything else.

Sugawara looks at you for a beat – and then throws his head back and laughs. It catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

He collects himself, but his eyes are still gleaming when he looks back at you. “Sure, you have a husband. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about me, does it? Tell me, when’s the last time that your husband took care of you? When’s the last time that he touched you, or fucked you, or made you feel good?”

“Mr. Sugawara, this is inappropriate–”

“Stop lying to yourself.” His voice suddenly drops, his stare forceful and deadly serious. “Say the word, and I’ll go. We can pretend this never happened. But anyone with eyes can tell that you’re unsatisfied.”

“I…I don’t…” Your thoughts feel like a wave, building higher and higher. They bounce around your head, reverberating against your skull, so loud that you can’t even think.

“Why are you settling?”

“Mr. Sugawara, please, I–”

“Why are you settling, when you know you want more?”

The wave crests.

You don’t know who moves first, but somehow, your fingers are tangled in his hair, and his lips are slotted against yours. It’s not soft, or sweet – it’s a mess of teeth and tongues and feverish breaths. His hands are everywhere. They trail over your skin, explore the curves of your chest and your stomach, grip tightly at your waist to pull you closer.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you pant against his lips. Your lungs scream for oxygen, but you can’t bear to drag yourself away from him for even a second. He kisses so well. It may be rushed, and messy, but there’s so much hunger behind his actions that it makes your head spin. It’s like his lips are a live wire, and every second that they touch yours, they send a thousand volts of electricity arcing through your body.

“Koushi,” he breathes. “Call me Koushi, please.” You nod, and then hurriedly undo the buttons of his shirt, popping a few off in the process. Neither of you care. His hands finally dip beneath the hem of your dress, and he wastes no time in unceremoniously tugging it off your body.

Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself. Age and childbirth have changed your body, and you know that Mr. Sugawara – no, Koushi – is probably used to beautiful young women. You still don’t understand why his eye landed on you. He surely has dozens of girls his age fawning over him, with flat stomachs and perky tits. Why you?

He grips your wrists and pries your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that,” he says, so gentle in contrast to the fire from just moments ago. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful.”

Oh.

You can’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful. You can’t remember the last time that you felt beautiful.

But right now, with Koushi staring at you, eyes blown out with lust… you feel it.

He sinks onto his knees, lips already pressing little kisses against your hips and upper thighs. You try and protest – really, Koushi, you don’t have to – but he shushes you instantly. He hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in without hesitation. Even through the fabric of your panties, you’re in fucking heaven. His tongue laves against your clit, focusing so much attention onto the swollen bead that you can’t help but let out a moan.

You slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You’re in an elementary school, for God’s sake. The bake sale is at the other side of the large building, but you’re terrified of someone walking past and catching you. Guilt swirls around your heart, but it’s quick to dissipate when Koushi tugs your panties off and throws them over his shoulder. He buries himself into your cunt again, and it’s even better without the barrier. The coil in your stomach is tightening embarrassingly fast, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. His tongue laps at your folds, slurping lewdly.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Your body moves of its own accord. Your hips grind against Koushi’s face, and he moans right into your cunt. His lips move up to your clit again, alternating between licking and sucking. You’re so focused on his mouth that you barely notice his fingers, so long and pretty, collecting your wetness.

You do notice when he fucks two of those pretty fingers into you. He immediately starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, before hooking them against that spot inside of you that makes your head spin. Your entire body is shaking with euphoria, so much that you can’t handle it.

“Close,” you cry out, trying to keep yourself upright. “Close, close, please, don’t stop!”

He moans into you again when you tug at his hair. It’s the push that you need to finally fall over the edge. You bite into your palm to keep from screaming as you gush all over him, chest heaving and eyes tearing up.

He keeps curling his fingers, keeps lapping at your clit, until you tug on his hair and cry that the overstimulation is too much. As he lets your leg down and stands up, he makes a show of licking your cum off his fingers, slurping on them loudly. It would make you embarrassed, but you’re too focused on his other hand as it dips down to his belt. The muscles of his stomach flex as he undoes the buckle. You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his toned torso. He seems so slender when he’s dressed, but his shoulders are surprisingly broad.

He looks up at you with a little smirk. “Caught you staring,” he teases. You blush as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It’s already hard, and so pretty, just like him. His tip is red and dripping with precum. You want so badly to get a taste, but Koushi has other plans. He spins you by your shoulders, and then presses at the small of your back to make you lay across his desk.

You groan when you feel him slap his cock against your ass a few times, before running it through your folds to collect your wetness. “Please,” you gasp. “No teasing, please.”

“Just came, and you’re already needy?” he chuckles. “That husband of yours must really not be satisfying you.”

You’re spared from having to think of a retort by him sinking into you. A cry leaves your lips, but it’s too good for you to even care about the sound. He feels like heaven as he sinks into you. His cock stretches you out deliciously.

You’re already feeling delirious as he starts to shallowly thrust and work his way in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. “So – fuck…”

You can’t do anything but moan and scratch at the table as he starts to fuck into you in earnest. His cock is perfectly curved to hit your spot every time, and soon you’re reduced to a mess underneath him. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. It hurts, it’s all too much, but it’s so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this – mind numbing and all consuming, so powerful that it makes your eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” he groans again, bending down so that he can loom over you and leave little bites all over your back and shoulders. “Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that, shit!”

“Faster, please,” you beg, and he obliges. He sets an absolutely brutal pace, somehow managing to fuck you hard, fast, and at the perfect angle all at once. Moans and cries spill freely out of your open mouth. When he reaches forward to toy with your clit, it’s all too much, and it sends you over the edge again. Your body practically spasms as he fucks you through your second orgasm. He shows you no mercy, gives you no time to come down. You don’t know if you’re coming again, or if you just never stopped. Your mind is hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

You’re a twitching mess by the time that he pulls out, but you still whine at the loss. You’re far too fucked out to turn around and look at him, but in the corner of your consciousness, you can hear him panting and stroking himself furiously. His moans are so beautiful. Within a few short seconds, he’s coming all over your ass, painting your pretty skin white with his seed.

You don’t know how long you’re laying there before he taps your cheek to get your attention. “C’mon now,” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want your husband finding out, would we?”

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dervampireprince · 2 years

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you want more blogs to follow?

blog recc time because I wanted too! (was going to wait to do one when we got to a speicifc follower count but i just wanted to make one too badly so hey happy uh 1370 followers!) (sorry in advance if any of you that i tagged are annoyed by the tagging)

pretty much all of these blogs either are run by trans/enby people or are cis but post content that is inclusive to trans/enby people because well that's what we like to see here. all inclusive to trans mascs because uh well you know that's what i am, though not all are exclusively mlm/nblm

@frenchtoastie beautiful, amazing, reason i made this blog, you like hot people? you like vampires? go follow them (i mean, go follow everyone on this list, that's the point of this list)

@aspiring-house-husband thank you sir for unlocking my dumbification kink. but also giving us good historical, monster, royalty and transition (the opposite of d*trans) content! very very sweet man. deserves all the kisses on to his hands.

@deviflame reminder that i need to pop into your ask box sometime, but been mutuals for quiet a while now and his writing is 👌👌 get your t4t trans masc content here folks

@transpuppyprince not been following them for long but cute trans masc subby content that makes me 🥺

@spicey-mlm username says it all. sometimes some cnc, but lots of t4t mlm goodness

@scrpiongrasses newer mutual, a very cute subby boy who's posts when i read them also turn me into a little subby boy

@alphawolf-daddy very sweet dude! you like werewolves?? breeding? tops/doms? 😍

@gentleasfxck a sweetheart! writing that makes my head spin. did i mention they're also very sweet?

@tinypuppyyy sweet puppy who i feel most of you are already aware of, but he’s really out here feeding me top tier soft pet play content

i really hope i didn't miss anyone out. these are the blogs i tend to read more than any others, and some super sweet mutuals.

#because no one sent me an ask asking for blog reccs so fine i'll just pretend like someone did #mlm nsft #trans nsft #ftm nsft #lgbt nsft #queer nsft #nblm nsft #ftm sub #transmasc nsft #the vampire rambles

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inkykeiji · 3 years

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little bit of poison in me

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut and angst

notes: okay FINALLY!! very loosely inspired by tag you’re it by melanie martinez!! uhh dabi’s a drug dealer, keigo’s in his third year of university and a track star, reader’s in her first year of university. please, please pay attention to the warnings below! if keigo’s your comfort character and you cannot handle him being physically abusive and a drug addict, then you might wanna sit this one out! promise he’ll be painted in a more sympathetic light in part two. | aaah dedicating this to @rat-suki, because ur the only one who’s actually known the details of this fic since november, and because i put a lil something inspired by new moon in there for u ehehe <333 | title credit: tag you’re it by melanie martinez

warnings: 18+, noncon/dubcon, physical abuse, drug use & abuse + graphic depictions of addiction, mindbreak, overstimulation, manipulation, lowkey yandere vibes (which will get worse), daddy kink, a brother a lil too obsessed with his sister + questionably close sibling relationship, generally toxic relationships (possessiveness, jealousy), rough sex, semi-public sex, cumplay/cum feeding, minimal prep, degradation/dumbification, choking, kinda brat taming???

words: 14.8k

synopsis:

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to. But you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, and allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

It’s well past midnight, but the moon is still hanging high in the sky, illuminating the dingy shopping mall parking lot, its reflection gleaming on the wet, cracked concrete. Breathless little laughs and squeals of surprise and pleasure ring out among the vast empty space, your own voice echoing around you.

“Gonna get ya, baby,”

He’s chasing after you, legs longer than yours, faster than yours, mischievous little growls getting caught in his chest as you daintily leap away from him, just out his grasp again, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft linin of your dress.

“No!” you giggle, pushing your burning thighs to keep running just a bit longer, propelling you forward.

But he’s getting closer and closer with each pound of his boots against the pavement, encroaching on you more and more with each tiny gasp exhaled through your parted lips.

Eventually, he catches you, like he always does, large hands wrapping around your hips as strong arms pull you backwards against a solid chest. You’re both panting, chests heaving with exertion, bubbles of laughter escaping your throats.

“Tag,” he breathes, hot breath curling around the shell of your ear. “You’re it,”

His arms encircle you, holding you tightly, your own arms covering his, little fingers digging into the skin of his forearms almost possessively as he uses his strength and bodyweight to guide you towards the car—a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz that runs like shit and guzzles gas like no tomorrow. But it’s pretty, and he loves it, with all its chrome and argyle blue, glittering in the moonlight.

“You’re being bad, princess,” the words are mumbled against the skin behind your ear, and you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Good girls don’t run away from their Daddies like that,”

And he says the word with so much disdain, cruel and mocking, making you feel sick for liking it.

“Baaad girl,” he whispers, dragging the word out.

A tiny pout settles on your face, eyebrows knitting. “Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,”

“You are,” he chuckles, pressing you against the damp metal of his car as you finally reach it, his body still draped over yours. “What? You gonna fight me on it?”

Squirming a little in his grasp, you turn to face him, a playful glint shining in your glassy eyes as you nudge your nose against his. “I just might!”

“Hah,” the breath of air washes over your face, scorching and sweet, a stark contrast to the humid, cool air surrounding you, causing your exposed flesh to break out into chills. “I’d like to see you try, dollface,”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” you murmur, yelping when his fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass through your dress, grabbing a healthy handful and squeezing in retaliation.

“Mmm,” he hums nonchalantly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes nothing but gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of sapphire. “You gonna show me?” his rough voice fades into a whisper, unblinking eyes holding yours steadily. Calloused hands are sliding up your thighs now, slipping underneath the thin material of your dress and taking the hem with them.

“N-Not here,” you breathe, trying and failing to pull back from him, eyes widening in alarm as you feel his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, here,” he responds, voice smooth as velvet as soft lips drag along your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh like a hot knife slicing through butter.

Panic is beginning to rise in your chest, your throat closing up, and you choke a little on your words, shaking your head frantically. “Please, Dabi, no, we could just—”

“Wow, you really want me to bruise that pretty ass of yours,” he smirks, cutting you off and pulling back to gaze at you lazily, lips glimmering with saliva.

“No, I—”

“Especially with how much you’re saying no today,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval. “Such a bad girl; a silly, little, stupid, bad girl,”

Each word is punctuated with a sharp slap to your scantily clad ass, each bringing with them a sharp sting that you can hear, echoing out among the parking lot.

“Not bad,” you whimper, eyes shutting tightly against the familiar burn of tears. “Not bad, j-just wanna—”

“Wanna what?” he teases, voice mocking yours as his palm collides with your ass again. “Huh?”

“W-Wanna—Want you to fuck me right,” you rush to say, the words exhaled as a singular huff of breath.

“Oh?” he pulls back slightly, eyes searching your face, his own features contorted with false concern. “Is that so?”

You nod quickly, eagerly, and he can see it in your eyes, how desperately you want him to buy your lie.

But you know he hasn’t the moment that trademark smirk returns to his face, mouth curling up at the edges as he leans forward, lips moving against your ear. “I think that’s a boldfaced lie, babygirl,” his voice is low, sinister, dangerous, traces of amusement sown into his tone. “I think it’s because you don’t want anyone to see how much of a little whore you truly are,”

“D-Dabi, please,” you whimper, vision blurry with tears as you paw at his jacket, pleading with him.

He thinks it’s so cute when you beg, his silence imploring you to continue, urgently rambling on in your quest to convince him.

“I-I want you to really fuck me; I want you to leave b-bruises all over my body, I want to feel you in my tummy, I want you t-to stuff me so full of cum that it goes to my brain and makes me stupid, please Daddy, I want—”

Slim fingers wrap around your neck and squeeze, forcing a cry of surprise from your lips and effectively cutting you off. “I’m gonna make sure you remember those words, sweetheart,”

✰ ✰ ✰

The thump of your own heart echoes in your ears as the Cadillac Eldorado thrums under your body, the leather sticking to the bare skin of your thighs.

“Open,” he demands, delivering a harsh slap to the thigh nearest to him, eyes never leaving the road as his foot presses down, car accelerating. Your thighs obey immediately, spreading as far as they possibly can in the cramped space, knees knocking against the door and center console box.

A rough hand, decorated with callouses and scabs, kneads the flesh once before sliding up, up, up, and then hooking in the elastic of your panties, Dabi spitting out a curse as he lets it snap back against your skin.

“Take those off,” he seethes, aggressively ripping his hand away from you as if he’s aggravated that you’re even wearing them at all. Your dress hitches up around your waist in your haste to obey, little fingers catching in the lacy material as your hips squirm, seatbelt cutting into your flesh, wiggling a little as you pull the dainty material down your legs.

He’s already holding his hand out expectantly and you press them into it, waiting for his fingers to close around the garment before taking your hand back. He feels them, rolling the fabric around in his palm, between his fingers, chuckling darkly as he chucks them over his shoulder a moment later, onto the dirty ground of the backseat.

Those were your favourite, but you know better than to say anything, forcing your expression to stay neutral, to keep your nose from wrinkling up in distaste.

“They’re wet, but not nearly wet enough,” he tsks as if he’s disappointed, hand finding your thigh again. This time, they part instantly, without any verbal prompting, hips pushing towards his palm as it skims the skin of your inner thigh.

“Now, I’m gonna play with this cute lil clit of yours,” he begins, fingers brushing the sensitive nub, words tumbling from his lips slowly, lazily, unhurried, as if you’re stupid, as if you need an ample amount of time for each word to sink in.

It makes your pussy throb, and the borderline malicious smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he felt it, too.

Speaking through his smirk, he continues in the same patronizing voice. “And you—you’re going to be Daddy’s good little girl and get nice and wet for him, so he doesn’t hurt his cock when he fucks you. Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Yes Daddy, of course Daddy, anything for you, Daddy.

It’s torture in the most delightful way, coarse pads of his fingers just barely grazing your clit, just enough for you to feel it, just enough for you to want—no, need—more. Heat, thick and sticky, pools in the pit of your stomach, thighs straining to open impossibly wider, edges of the car’s interior digging into your knees as you desperately try to shift your hips, to press further into his touch, to evoke anything harder than these teasing, feathery touches.

Blunt nails sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, hard enough to make you yelp, entire body flinching from the sudden pain. “Big girls use their words,” he chastises, voice fading from a growl into a pleasant, light tone.

“Please, Daddy, I-I want more,” you whimper, hips still trying to catch your clit on his fingers, on his palm. “Touch me more,”

The hum that vibrates in his throat has your heart sinking, corners of your mouth tugging down as you blink against the sting of disappointment—you know that hum, know it all too well, know all of Dabi’s bizarre mannerisms at this point and what they mean for you. And that hum, the one that only lasts for a moment, the one that’s barely a noise at all, the one that doesn’t even sound like he’s considering anything, means no.

His eyes don’t leave the road in front of him, despite the fact that his car is going faster, and faster, and faster, whipping through the empty city streets, neon buildings and harsh florescent lights becoming nothing but a blur. And if it weren’t for the hard lump straining against the black denim of his jeans, you’d figure him disinterested; facial features relaxed, breathing normal, entirely unresponsive to the pathetic little noises he’s so effortlessly pulling from you.

It ignites a fire in your chest, blazing with the need to make him react, to make him pay attention to you.

Wearing your best pout, you arch your back a little, the action shoving your hips towards his hand again. “Daddy, Daddy,” you whine, low and needy in the back of your throat, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, touch me more? Please, Daddy, I want it so bad, want your cock so bad, please, help me get wetter? Wanna be dripping for you, Daddy, I wanna be soaking for you,”

“Fuck,” he breathes, smirk growing into a full grin as he glances at you from the side of his eye. “Such a brat,” he shakes his head, through the grin is still present on his face as he finally presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow, hard circles into it. “You better be drenched for me by the time we get home, you little bitch,”

✰ ✰ ✰

Large hands are on your body as the two of you stumble up the stairs, nimble fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, obscene sucking and slurping amplified by the stairwell, bouncing back to your own ears, saliva slicked lips slipping and sliding together messily as teeth clack together, practically tripping over each other’s feet and fucking Christ he needs you, he needs you now, his cock hurts, goddamn it.

And you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, all clingy and needy and desperate, hushed little whines catching in the back of his throat, fading from deep, rumbling growls as rough hands paw at you.

A sharp gasp is knocked from your chest as he slams you against the wall on the landing of floor three with such force that your head ricochets off the concrete, your resounding cry silenced by Dabi’s lips, tongue invading your mouth as he swallows your beautiful little noises of pain.

You can feel his cock pressed up against your hip, hot and hard and throbbing through the denim that conceals it as he grinds against you, fervent, eager, impatient.

That panic is bubbling up in your throat again, bitter and acidic and eroding, rendering your voice weak and frail as scabbed knuckles drag across your bare thighs, inching higher and higher.

“Da-Daddy, wait,”

“No,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. “I’m done waiting,” hands are rucking up your dress. “You made me wait that whole fucking car ride,” sharp hipbones keep your thighs spread. “I can’t wait any longer,” the clinking of his heavy belt buckle echoes throughout the stairwell, sending chills pebbling across your skin.

And then he’s forcing himself into you, shoving his cock into your tight little hole, a choked cry bouncing off the dirty white walls as your eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from the edges.

The stretch is magnificent, little cunt aching as it sucks in his thick cock, and you swear you can feel the burning in your belly, little pinpricks of pain shooting through your gut.

“G-Gonna tear me in half,” you wail, head falling forward, forehead bumping against his.

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” a callous laugh leaves his lips after he spits out the nickname, the singular word filled with such derision it must sting his tongue. Large hands hoist you up, and your legs immediately latch around his waist, seeking comfort in the monster that hurt you.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Tears drip down your cheeks as you bury your face in his shoulder, the word escaping your lips in tiny half-sobs catching in your throat, little fingers curling against the worn leather of his jacket.

And he can’t help but soften a little as you weep into his neck, thinks it’s so cute that you need him so bad, your little stuttered breaths hot against his neck as you cling to him, reminding him that he is the only man that can make you feel like this; he is the only man that can make you cry while simultaneously finding solace in his embrace. It makes his blood surge, sends cinders searing up his spine, gives him a high better than any other drug every could, and he finds himself hushing you gently, twitching cock buried in your cute lil cunt, snugly pressed against your cervix.

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying as his hips begin to pump, slow and languid. “Quiet, Daddy’s gonna make it feel good, alright? Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it go away,”

The sweetest, airiest little mewls of Daddy, yes, Daddy, soak into the inky skin of his neck, sandwiched between uneven hitched breaths. He’s gaining speed with each thrust, though, working up a steady rhythm that has you practically bouncing on his cock, little wails of pain fading into whimpers of pleasure. The combination is dizzying, infecting your mind with a haze that is only Dabi, surrounded by him, immersed in him—glowing sapphire and burning hickory and spicy nicotine—unable to quell the little noises spilling from your throat, each one louder than the next with each bump against your cervix and drag against that spot.

“That feel better, princess?” he breathes out, pausing just to readjust his grip on your ass—to angle your hips just right, chuckling at your selfish, needy whine—and then he’s drilling his cock into you, head pounding against the spot that has his name escaping your lips in high pitched squeals that break in your throat, heavy belt buckle clanking against the wall with each of his thrusts.

It sends sparks of mind-numbing pleasure burning through your abdomen, your chest, straight to your very core and collecting there, each spark adding to the growing fire that’s beginning to blaze, followed by intense spears of pain, slicing through your gut and down the muscles of your thighs, legs beginning to quiver as ankles hook tighter, tighter, tighter, the heels of your sneakers digging into his back dimples, trying to get him closer, closer, closer, desperately begging for more, more, more.

Yet it’s all so much, too much, please, Daddy—the harsh sound of metal colliding with concrete mingling with your pathetic whines and his panted breaths, rough whimpers catching deep in his chest, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he gasps, pace never slowing, never faltering once, even though there’s glistening dewdrops of sweat decorating his hairline, inky strands beginning to stick to the skin of his forehead. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy, cum before someone catches you being such a sweet little—God, Christ—a sweet little slut for me,”

And your cunt submits, would never dare to disobey a direct command from its master, from its owner, clenching around him as you cream all over his cock, a sharp cry ripping up your throat as your nails scrabble against leather clad shoulders.

A growl rumbles, deep and dark and dangerous in his chest, as his hips piston a few more times before they still, tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, branding his name in tiny blotches of navy and violet as his cock throbs, coating your insides with spurts of thick cum.

Head falling forward, his forehead collides with yours, chests heaving and breathing laboured. And he can’t help the little chuckle he huffs out as you wiggle your hips a little, eyes still closed as you rock in little motions against him, clit catching on his pubic bone.

Needy little bitch.

But he isn’t nearly done with you yet, because that desire, thick and sticky in the very pit of his stomach, only wants more, insatiable and voracious, desperate for more of your whines, more of your tears, more of your cunt.

You’re gonna make good on all those words you spewed in the parking lot, baby, he’s nearly snarling at you, cutting off your whiny complaints as he drags you up the final flight of stairs, stopping halfway to haul you over his shoulder with a huff and a deft slap to your ass, carrying you the rest of the way to his apartment.

“Dress, off. Now.” He orders as he throws you onto his mattress, pulling his shirt over his head, belt buckle jingling as he walks, still hanging undone.

And then he’s crawling over your naked body, lips attacking yours, smashing and smacking and slurping, a large hand wrapping around your wrists as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, laving over yours in slow, deliberate drags, pinning your wrists against the cold cracked drywall behind his nearly bare, minimalistic bed, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together between a singular rough palm—a silent warning—and forcing a yelp from your throat into his.

“Don’t move them,” his lips mumble the command against yours before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, between sharp gleaming teeth that bite down hard, sinking into the soft flesh and refusing to release until he tastes copper, the tip of his tongue tracing the harsh indents left behind, licking at your lip once more before pulling away completely.

“I want you to leave bruises all over my body!” he mimics, voice absurdly high as lips skim the curve of your neck, tongue darting out to trace along your collarbones. “Isn’t that what you said, baby?”

But you can’t answer, too busy sucking on your now swollen lip, trying to soothe the incessant throbbing as metal stains your tongue. That’s disrespectful, you think you hear him growl into your unmarred skin before something sharp pierces your nipple, clamping down around it and tugging. A resounding cry tears through your throat as your body instinctually bows off the bed, pressing further into him, a muffled snicker vibrating against your chest before his tongue flicks, licks, slobbers, thick strings of saliva glimmering in the dim light as he pulls away, breaking and slapping against his chin.

“Answer me next time I ask you a fucking question,” The words are spit so harshly they slice into your skin, head nodding fervently before he’s even finished speaking, blinking the bleariness from your eyes. Smoldering sapphire holds your gaze for a moment, burning into your very soul—digging, prying, searching, scrutinizing, his breathing slow, calm, controlled with each deep rise and fall of his bare chest.

You aren’t sure what it is he’s looking for as he peers into the depths of your eyes, but you don’t dare let your gaze stray from his, don’t dare blink, don’t dare breathe until he breaks the spell, blinking once as his lips curl up into a wicked smirk.

“I’m gonna turn your body into a work of art,” he promises you, voice low and guttural, forcing thorns of ice up your spine as lips drag across your jaw.

And he does, paints little galaxies across your skin with his tongue and his lips, asymmetrical blotches of blues and greys and purples, ivory bones scraping against your flesh, signing his name into his masterpiece in deep, dark indents of crimson and violet.

It aches and it pulses and it stings, glittery trails of salt water staining your cheeks, tiny shimmering droplets clinging to your clumped, spiky lashes, adding the finishing touches on the greatest piece he’s ever created.

And it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty when you’re like this, baby, covered in navy and plum and carmine, and, fuck, it’s a shame you won’t stay like this.

It seems he’s in a trance for a moment, in awe of his craftsmanship, of what he’s produced, breathing laboured as shining azure eyes drift over your body, slowly, purposefully, as if he’s memorizing every single nick, bite, scrape, bruise, burning the image into his brain forever.

His gaze floats back up to yours, holding it for a moment, pupils big and gaping and swallowing you whole—before something snaps, breaks, and he comes back to himself, remembers why he did it.

Narrowing slightly, his eyes darken, that sadistic smirk returning to his lips. And then he’s shoving his cock into you again, hard and leaking and the prettiest red you’ve ever seen, cute little cunt stretching around him for the second time tonight.

But little girls who act like brats deserve to get fucked like brats, he tells you in a snarl, slender fingers collaring your neck and squeezing slowly, slowly, slowly, crushing the column of your throat.

Everything’s beginning to grow hazy, vision sliding in and out of focus as those calloused hands continue to tighten, and tighten, and tighten. He looks like some sort of sick angel as he looms above you, nothing more than a shadow of sharp edges and smooth curves, inky spikes and glowing sapphire, haloed by the weak neon light that spills in through grimy windows. Jutting bones prod the soft flesh of your inner thighs, carving out a space just for them as his hips snap viciously, relentlessly, obstinately.

And it’s all overwhelming, overstimulating on every front, uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes as you choke roughly on your own sobs, each one being forced from your chest by your Daddy’s harsh thrusts, only to get caught on the palm pressed to your airway, ears ringing from the slap of skin against skin overlapping those harsh words spit at you in his falsely saccharine voice.

Aw, no, baby, wispy words caressing your cheek as they float by, eyes starting to roll back in your head. Don’t pass out on me, dollface. I want you awake when I fill your cunt with cum.

The pressure around your throat lets up just a hint, and you wheeze in air, a rush of cold flooding your body. You can feel it, that contrasting, familiar heat scorching the pit of your stomach, beginning to curl in on itself more, and more, and more with each pump of his hips, until it explodes, your body arching off the mattress, unintentionally pressing into the hand adorning your neck, restricting your air entirely.

The chuckle that leaves his lips as you choke yourself is dark, would send spears of ice slicing through your veins if you weren’t otherwise focused on trying to fill your lungs with air. Nothing leaves your mouth other than a few choked whines, barely more than a huff of light breath.

But his hips don’t slow, and he’s glaring down at you with parted lips and lidded eyes, pupils gaping, so large you’re unable to detect even the slightest hint of blue outlining them—nothing but big black orbs, absorbing everything in their vision, sucking everything from you, every hitched sob and soft whine and gorgeous wince, each time he pounds against your cervix.

And it’s how your looking up at him—with those gleaming, adoring eyes and that blissful, fucked out grin—that has him cumming with a shuddered f-fuck, forcing his eyes to stay open as he pumps you full of thick cum, desperate to catalogue every little expression that crosses your face, the way your eyes flutter slightly, the way your neck arches, the tiniest little moan slipping through chapped lips as his cock pulses inside of you.

You must pass out for a second, Dabi’s calloused palm lightly tapping against your cheek as he murmurs to you in that sinful, silky voice, sugared sentiments twining around your exhausted body.

Wake up, princess. Daddy isn’t done playing with you yet.

Words tumble past your lips in a mumble, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re saying—everything feels hazy, like you’re gazing through a thin cloud of smoke, and despite the fact that you can barely move, your body feels light, almost floaty in a way, entirely numb to the immense pain it has endured thus far.

Two fingers, coated in thick, gleaming cream, are thrust into your gasping mouth, tongue met with the salty, bitter taste of his cum. You cough around the sudden intrusion, immediately obey when he orders you to clean, sluggish tongue sliding up and lapping at and slipping between them, sucking the digits free of cum.

Good girl, he leans away and your heart flutters weakly at the praise, saliva slicked fingers dipping into your hole again to gather more.

“C’mon,” he breathes as he brings his fingers to your mouth again, sticky viscous glops collected on his fingers. They catch in the dim light streaming through the window, a unique mixture of pale moonbeams and hazy neon, cum almost glittering, almost pretty. “You wanted me so bad, didn’t you?” your head’s moving—nodding, you think, you can’t really tell, breathing shallow as your eyes belatedly follow his glistening fingers—and he smirks down at you. “Then eat my fucking cum,”

Lips part instantly, mouth falling open as your tongue lolls out, eyes drifting up to his and pleading mutely, begging for the substance—the very essence of him—and nearly moaning when he drags his fingers across the saliva coated muscle, curling and sucking his digits back into the heat of your mouth.

And he’s fucking high off of it all, pupils blown to hell, outlined by the thinnest ring of cobalt, barely detectable, visible only when it catches in the moonlight.

A lumpy pile of denim sits abandoned and bunched up near the end of the bed—he must’ve kicked his pants off at some point, though you don’t remember when—and his cock’s hard again, head brushing your inner thigh. It’s hard for you to tear your gaze from it, fleeting thoughts of stamina and impressive grazing through your mind, turning to smoke the moment you try to latch onto them.

He notices, of course—you’ve been staring at it for nearly a minute now, glazed eyes unblinking, soft little pants passing through barely parted lips. But it’s the way you’re staring at it—in the purest, unadulterated form of desire—that makes it jump, twitching a little against your thigh. You think you hear your Daddy breathe out a curse, think his rough fingers brush some hair back from your drenched forehead, think he says something along the lines of how much he fucking loves you, but in your dreamlike state, you can’t be sure.

Because then rough hands are on you, manhandling you as whatever trance he had fallen into yet again snaps once more.

“We’re gonna put that pretty, empty head of yours to good use!” he’s saying almost enthusiastically as he hoists your boneless body up, propping you up against his chest and securing you with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. “Whaddya think about that, hmm, princess? Want Daddy to use your little skull as his own personal cumdump? Huh?” lithe fingers squeeze your cheeks so hard your lips pucker up, a high-pitched whine getting caught in your throat. “That’s all it’s good for anyway, isn’t it?”

You try to nod, but all your head wants to do is flop back against his shoulder.

“Oh baby,” he cooks mockingly, jutting his inky bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“T’is!” you mumble through his grip, drool beginning to collect in the corners of your scrunched mouth, dribbling down your chin. Gazing at him through the corner of your watery eyes, your resolve hardens, doing your best to hold your exhausted body up on your own, expression steeling as you force your woozy head to nod as best you can in his bruising grasp.

“Yeah?” he breathes, mouth curving into a dangerous smirk before his lips are at your ear, voice dropping an octave lower. “You’re fucking stubborn, y’know that? Stubborn little brat, just like your bullheaded brute of a brother,”

And then he’s pushing you down, shoving your head into the mattress and pulling your hips up, a hiss spit through your teeth as he purposefully presses into the fresh bruises.

Your poor little pussy aches, fucked open and raw by his cock, but you are stubborn—you can’t help it, it runs in your blood—exhilarated by the challenge and pushing your hips back weakly towards him.

Your Daddy chuckles behind you, but it’s one of those annoyed chuckles, one of those disbelieving chuckles, one of those chuckles that consists of an audacious smirk, quick short nodding that’s more to himself than anyone else, and a tongue running along his top teeth, sucking on the bones, before it fades from his face completely, replaced with scorn in an instant, eyes cold and jaw clenched as he delivers a harsh backhand to your ass.

Then his body’s blanketing yours, chest hot and heavy against your back, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Oh, you really want me to break you, don’t you?”

No, truly, you don’t, but you grit your teeth, eyes shut tightly against the sting of a fresh wave of tears, trying to stop your head from involuntarily shaking no.

He laughs again, this time mean and sharp and full of malice, as he straightens up, lining his cock up with your hole.

“Nah, nah,” he’s saying as he pushes in, and God, it still hurts, it still stretches you, reopening little sutures created in the stairwell. “I think you do—Actually, I know you do. And Daddy knows best, right?”

Yes, of course, Daddy knows best, Daddy always knows best.

And it burns, that relentless snap of his hips, driving his cock into you with deep growls and grunts, with such force that it’s jostling you up the mattress, little hands planting themselves in a pitiful attempt to press back against him, to keep yourself in one place. Every muscle in your arms screams at the effort, stiff and rigid from being held, kept, still and obedient against the wall for an extended period of time.

The dreaminess has faded again, leaving behind a dull haze, and it all just hurts. It seems to come in bouts, inexplicable waves of numbness and pain, alternating sporadically and sprinkled with spikes of intense pleasure, a potent mix of chemicals swirling in your brain, lust and desire and terror and anguish burning through your veins.

You’re sobbing into the mattress now, fingers curling tightly in his soft black sheets as your bleary vision begins to darken at the edges, mumbling out something almost in a chant—his name, you think, though you’re not sure, it all sounds muffled to your ringing ears—vibrations of your voice getting caught in your throat, hitching with your sobs and the rough piston of his hips.

It’s building again, licks of fire scalding hot against the walls of your stomach, the temperature rising with each drag of his cock against that spot, until you’re sure the flames are going to engulf you from the inside out.

Little squeaks, poor imitations of moans, escape your lips, interspersed with your pathetic wails. He’s speaking once more—you can feel it, his chest reverberating against yours, lips moving against your ear again. Something rumbles, rattles, deep and dark and dangerous at the very core of his body, and then he’s tangling a hand in your hair and tugging, hauling you up, a choked cry slipping from your lips.

It pulls you from unconsciousness’s grasp, just for a moment, clears the mist from your mind as he snarls against your ear, taking the cartilage between his teeth and biting down, hard.

“Thought I told you to answer me the next time I ask you a fucking question,” he breathes, and he almost sounds gleeful, contradicting his voice, so rough, so hoarse, so hot.

You did, Daddy, you did, you’re trying to say, trying to nod in the vice grip he has on your strands, the words jumbled and muddled and near incomprehensible, wet and messy and coated in spit.

“But I guess my—Christ—my cock makes you too stupid to do that, huh?” he’s panting now, in time with his thrusts, huffs of breath sweltering against your already sticky skin. “What would your goody-two-shoes brother say if he could see you, hmm? If he could see how fucking dumb his little slut of a baby sister goes from my cum,”

It’s too much, too much, Daddy, too much, the brutal pounding of his cockhead against your swollen cervix and the continuous stream of strained, husky, filthy words he’s spewing in your ear and the sting in your scalp and that spot, that spot, that spot—

It hits you so hard it’s painful, knocks what little breath you had right out of you as your entire body convulses on his cock, little cunt clenching and gushing as you weep Da-Daddy! over and over and over, the only word your soupy brain is capable of conceiving, body going pliant in his arms as your head lolls back against his shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open while he continues to drive his cock into you, hard and fast and messy.

He cums with the prettiest broken whine you’ve ever heard—or at least, you think he does, entire body gone numb once again, think you feel his hips juddering and his cock pulsing, think you feel that familiar, thick substance filling you to the brim. Everything is still for a moment, his chest heaving against your arched back, and then he laughs malevolently, though it sounds far away, even though you can feel the sound vibrating against you.

“That ought’a teach you to say no to me again,” he spits harshly in your ear, giving one more hard yank on your hair before letting go completely, your abused body collapsing in a heap on his mattress.

It feels like you’re more Dabi than yourself now, with his name written all over your body, signed by his mouth, his teeth, his fingers, and his cum leaking out of you, drying hard and sticky on your thighs, his scent being all you can smell, all you can taste, heady and fiery. And as you crawl into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness—finally, finally—you think about just how much can change, and how fast it does, in a mere 92 days.

✰ ✰ ✰

Three months earlier

The air is hazy with thick smoke, heavy enough to dilute the already dim yellow light shining from the bare lightbulbs overhead. The stench of cheap beer, weed and sweat stings your nose, and it wrinkles reflexively.

You aren’t supposed to be here.

Throbbing music radiates through the house, causing the structure to tremble in time with the beat, the dirty drywall you’re currently pressed up against quivering in response. It’s so loud it hurts, vibrating through the warped linoleum floors and through your body. It makes you shiver in disgust, as if it’s some sort of parasite worming it’s way through your veins in timed intervals.

Your brother would kill you if he knew.

You’ve been backed into a corner—literally, surrounded by three college boys you’ve never seen before as they drunkenly leer at you. They’re a year or two older than you, glassy half-lidded eyes scanning your body in a way that makes you feel filthy, in a way that makes you want to scrub your skin raw to rid it of their slimy gazes.

They’re mumbling out something, speaking amongst themselves in low voices, peppered with raspy snickers that make your skin crawl. Pressing further into the corner, you quickly wrack your mind for something—anything—that will get them to part just a little, that’ll crack the wall of bodies you’re now surrounded by just enough for you to barrel through. Adrenaline begins to surge through your veins as you gear up, drawing in a deep breath, and—

“Whadda we have here?”

The men part immediately at the sound of that low voice, smooth as melted chocolate, revealing a figure with spiky onyx hair, an involuntary gasp escaping your lips the moment your eyes collide with sapphire.

“Ah, I thought it was you,” he smirks, peering down at you with a gaze so intense it feels like your body’s been set aflame. “What’s a good little girl like you doing in a place like this, hmm?”

Dabi.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen him, remembering the man with the pretty cobalt eyes and inky hair standing under a singular flickering lamp post outside of the tiny house you and your brother share, or lingering on the threshold of the front door, eyes lazily darting around the space as he waits.

He never comes inside. Your brother doesn’t allow it.

You’ve barely spoken any words to him, always responding to his polite greetings with shy nods or little waves.

But this is the first time you’re meeting him properly.

Feet bolted to the floor, you try to respond, only able to emit a pathetic little squeak.

He huffs out a condescending chuckle, gazing down the bridge of his nose at you, head tilted up just a touch, lidded crystal eyes glittering in the dim light. That trademark smirk spreads into something darker, something almost ominous in nature, something that whispers in your ear that it knows something you don’t, sending sharp spikes of ice shooting up your spine.

“Does your brother know you’re here?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes widening in panic as anxiety begins to rise in your throat. He isn’t about to rat you out, is he?

“Thought so. Dunno why I asked,” he heaves a heavy sigh, chest rising with the force of it, as if he’s extremely exasperated, as if you’re some sort of child lost at a supermarket and he’s bringing you back to your parents. “Alright, let’s go,”

A hand extends, hanging limp in the smoky air for a moment, waiting, before Dabi sighs again with a roll of his eyes, latching onto your wrist and all but dragging you out of the corner, maneuvering through the mass of sweaty bodies crowding the dingy living room.

“We’re leaving?” you ask dumbly as Dabi approaches the back door, hand still wrapped in a firm grasp around your arm.

“Yep. My work here is done, and you,” he tuts his tongue with a slow shake of his head, hidden smile on his face. “Your work here is done, too,”

“W-Where are we going?” you ask as the two of you stumble outside, shivering a little as the cool, fresh air hits your heated skin.

“No idea. Away from this place,” he looks back at your briefly, giving your wrist a soft squeeze before dropping it. “You tryna put your brother in an early grave or somethin’?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head again. “No, I just—”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” his words echo your thoughts from before. “You were in some real danger for a second, y’know that?”

“I-I know. Thank you for, uh, s-saving me, Sir,”

“Sir?” his eyes are bright with mirth, shining despite the weak light provided by the waxing moon. The smirk returns, and you feel it again—like he’s plotting something, like he’s got some big secret he’s hiding, a plan, something up his sleeve. “Sir is nice, but I think there’s another name you’d rather call me,”

Eyebrows knit in confusion, your eyes drift to the ground, mulling over his words. Something else you’d rather call him? Like what? You’ve only seen the guy a few—

“Still have no idea why you haven’t fucked him yet,” one of your friends muses as Dabi’s exiting his car, eyes watching him lazily from where you’re both seated on the front lawn.

“Keigo would murder me, literally,” you giggle a little, glancing over at the man with inky hair before looking away again, down at your lap as little fingers thread through the grass beneath you and shaking your head.

“Shame,” she sighs, twirling her sticky pink lollipop idly, the candy catching in the sun. “He’s Daddy as hell,”

A sharp gasp leaves your parted lips, eyes snapping back to her face and holding them for a moment before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, your fingers tapping her bare knee in a silent warning that he’s approaching.

Heavy black boots collide with the front stone path, buckles jingling daintily, his head perking up in a catlike manner, trademark smirk forming on his lips as you both urgently try to calm your laughter.

“Ladies,” he nods with a wink as he passes, little giggles cutting off instantaneously, the two of you mumbling shy greetings in response.

That was the only time you had ever spoken to him, until now.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. He did hear.

He chuckles slightly, dropping the subject with a shake of his head.

“So. Where to?” he asks expectantly, feet slowing to a stop on the cracked sidewalk as he taps out a cigarette. He whips a silver Zippo open, sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal cutting though the silent nighttime air. “Home?”

A shrill bubble of incredulous laughter escapes your throat. Dabi glances over at you, amused, raising an eyebrow in question as he cups the flame and brings it to his lips.

“Do you want to put my brother in an early grave?” you snort.

“I could just walk you to the street, you know,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “Precious niisan wouldn’t even need to see me,”

You shake your head, idly kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe as you begin walking again. The campus is beginning to bleed into the city now, engulfing the two of you in familiar florescent light. “No, I can’t go home,”

“Why?”

“I…” you trail off, heat flooding your cheeks. “I, um, told him I’d be staying at a friend’s place tonight,”

Dabi gasps mockingly. “Baby, you lied to your niisan?”

Knocking your shoulder against his arm, you scoff, trying to hide the stupid smile the nickname conjures. “Oh, shut up,”

“Getting bold now, I see,” he hums to himself. “Could’a swore just a few minutes ago you were scared of me,”

“N-Not scared, just—uh, just surprised, that’s all,”

“Uh-huh, sure. Tell me again why you can’t just go to this friend’s house?”

“Well, she’s—she’s, like, y’know—” you shrug as a form of explanation, deflating a little at his unimpressed stare as he blows smoke out his nose. “She’s going home with some guy,” you mumble. “A-And I was supposed to too, but…”

Dabi tsks, shaking his head in false sympathy. “Sweetheart, you’re a teenage movie cliché,”

“Shut up,”

“You tell me to shut up one more time and I’m gonna have to do something about it,” he singsongs, a thinly veiled threat coated in sugar. Swallowing thickly, you glance up at him, blinking twice. His eyes tell you that he’s not fucking around, despite the relaxed features of his face, smile easygoing and gaze lidded.

“S-Sorry,” you murmur, looking away.

“Don’t you know? Good little girls don’t speak like that to Daddy,”

He spits the word out, almost patronizing in his tone, but that fails to stop the way your stomach flutters when it falls from his lips, fails to prevent the choked little gasp that escapes yours. He laughs loudly, your cheeks burning with shame.

Sapphire eyes glint in the pale moonlight, as if he’s just discovered the most valuable treasure, as if he’s just been given the key to the universe—a predator who’s just ensnared it’s prey, and the smirk that slowly etches itself across his face is nothing short of sinister.

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

“Hmm?”

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, but you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

✰ ✰ ✰

He only has one bed and no couch, he informs you as he leads you up four flights of stairs, explaining that the elevator’s been broken for a few months now, panting out the words just a little.

A soft giggle slips from your lips, amplified by the empty stairwell and echoing off the concrete walls, and Dabi looks back at you, amused.

“Something funny, princess?”

And although there’s a friendly grin on his face and mirth in his eyes, something in his voice makes you tremble, shoots scorching sparks up your spine and sends them rushing through your veins, and your laughter immediately cuts off.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and hoping that he didn’t catch the full body shiver that coursed through your figure just a second ago, all thanks to his voice. “Just laughing at the absurdity of it, s’all,”

“Ah,” he says sagely, nodding once. “Well, here we are,”

A tattooed hand gestures vaguely to a white door with a large, black 4 painted on it, the paint beginning to chip away, worn down and faded in some spots.

Dabi’s apartment is small, but you like it. He’s surprised, he tells you, expected someone like you—someone brought up with luxury, someone who’s never had to ask for or want anything in their life, because they always already had it—would hate it.

“Or maybe, that’s exactly why you like it,”

It’s a little snarky, the way those words flow out of his mouth, biting your cheek as they pass, and you wince a little.

“I think it’s homey,” you say quietly, tiny voice raw and honest, deciding to omit the fact that you’ve never really had a space that felt homey yourself. “It’s very you. I really do like it.”

His eyes soften at your gentle confession, features relaxing a little as calloused fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then, I’m glad,”

For a moment, you’re positive he’s going to kiss you, staring down at you so intently with that look in his eyes as they slowly sweep across your face. But he turns on his heel a moment later, stalking into the tiny bachelor and beckoning for you to follow with a wave of his hand, flicking on a lamp as he passes.

“You hungry?” he’s asking as he walks. “I know this kickass noodle place that delivers 24/7,” he collapses on his bed, outfitted in black sheets, looking up at you expectantly when you stop hesitantly a few feet away. “You should probably eat something,” he continues, pushing himself up on his elbows, legs dangling off the end of the mattress. “Especially if there’s still alcohol in your—”

“Oh no, I don’t drink,” you cut him off without thinking, the words etched into your permanent vocabulary, sitting down next to him, just a hint too close.

“No, no, of course you don’t,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head, sitting up fully. “Let me guess; niisan doesn’t allow it,”

A frown forms on your lips, brows knitting together. “Well I—”

“Ah! Stop,” he cuts you off with a disinterested wave and a roll of his eyes. “I’ve heard enough,”

Normally, you’d scoff at someone speaking to you so rudely. But with Dabi, with Dabi, it’s different. A little giggle escapes your lips without your permission, the bubbly noise surprising you, and Dabi chuckles in response, a genuine grin spreading across his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“So. Food?”

The takeout arrives at 1:56am, Dabi bringing the bag full of noodles and other appetizers—too much food for only two people, if you’re being honest—back to his bed, placing it in front of you and then crawling onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged.

The action surprises you—he doesn’t have a table, but you had been expecting him to bring the food to the small breakfast bar, complete with two mismatched stools, not his bed.

Old Hammer Horror films flicker on the TV as the two of you pick through the food together, Styrofoam containers littering the bedspread. And it’s…fun—it’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, a strange, unfamiliar giddiness fizzing in your tummy every time you make him laugh, every time his eye catches yours, every time he shoves your knee and calls you dollface, despite the deep, honey-coated voice echoing in your head telling you that you shouldn’t be doing this and he’s dangerous.

✰ ✰ ✰

“Bedtime,” Dabi says simply as he returns from the little kitchenette after storing the leftover takeout in the fridge, using a hand to tug at the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Wha—”

The material hits you square in the face and an involuntary, entirely unsolicited giggle bubbles past your lips, pulling the garment from your head.

“Pajamas,” he nods at the fabric now bunched in your hands, but you can’t seem to find your voice to respond.

Teeth bite into your tongue hard enough to make you wince in an effort to keep a gasp within your chest when he comes into view. He’s lean—toner than you expected, muscles gliding smoothly under his skin as he moves—and you’re unsurprised to find his chest and back decorated with vibrant, intricate tattoos.

Of course, you knew Dabi had tattoos—they’re on his face, his neck, his collarbone, disappearing under the neckline of his shirt and resurfacing under his short sleeves, curling around his arms, brilliant flowing ink telling stories across his skin. They’re beautiful—they’re mesmerizing, inquisitive eyes slowly roaming the expanse of his chest.

But you had never noticed the soft, slightly puckered skin they hid. Scars, your mind provides dimly.

“Do you want to touch them?”

The rumble of his deep voice snaps you out of your revere, heat flooding your cheeks when you realize you were staring. There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you can’t quite tell if his offer is serious or not, your eyes floating up to his.

“Here,” he chuckles a little as he sits down, offering you his forearm, flipping it over and resting it on the bed.

He lets you trace every single one. He won’t tell you where or how he got the scars, and you don’t push, even as curiosity erodes your chest. It’s impolite to pry, Keigo’s voice echoes through your mind, and you nod once to yourself.

You don’t have sex that night. He doesn’t force you. You nearly tell him that you’re surprised, what, a man of his stature, of his reputation, has a pretty girl in his bed and he doesn’t fuck her?, petty retaliation for what he had said to you when you entered the apartment hours ago, but you chicken out at the last minute. You’d soon come to find that some things are better left unsaid.

✰ ✰ ✰

Spring has just arrived, bringing with it cool, gentle breezes and swaying blades of grass decorated with glistening dewdrops that sparkle when the sun catches them in just the right way. The smell of freshly battered cinnamon sugar donuts and cheap coffee wafts in through the open window, drifting over your bodies and embracing you.

It rouses you, and your eyes flutter open to be met with Dabi’s face. And, God, he’s so damn pretty, with thick dark eyelashes fanned out delicately across inked skin and tousled onyx hair, breathing deep and calm, sharp jaw on display. Reaching out, you daintily trace over his relaxed features—circling defined cheekbones, sliding down the slope of his nose, trailing along his jaw—allowing yourself a moment to admire him before thick guilt begins to strangle you.

You should go. Keigo still thinks that you’re at a friend’s house, and doesn’t expect you to be home until late afternoon, but that belated bitter guilt finally brands the back of your tongue, face souring a little at the idea of deceiving your big brother. And after all he’s done for you, niisan tsks in your head, voice sweet and syrupy, and you can almost see the disappointment in his eyes as he shakes his head. We’re all each other has, you know. And you do, really, you do know, head nodding routinely, instinctual at this point, as you begin to push yourself up.

“Stay,” Dabi says softly, eyes still closed as a hand catches your wrist. You stop immediately, allowing him to pull you back down to the mattress as lids lift to reveal the most brilliant sapphires. Fingers trace down the curve of your neck and you hum, arching into his touch.

“Keigo—”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he cuts you off, his voice still quiet, rough around the edges and heavy with sleep. “C’mon. We’ll go get pie for breakfast, and I’ll have you home to niisan by dinner, promise,”

Giggling a little, you roll into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you atop his chest as he flops onto his back.

“Pie,” you laugh, resting your chin on his toned muscles and gazing up at him. “For breakfast?”

“Why not?” He asks, and that smile is back again, the boyish one that looks like he’s hiding something, a little amusing secret just for him, the one that induces a whole flock of butterflies in your chest. “It’s Saturday,” he shrugs as best he can, then squeezes you to his chest. “You don’t got anything to do, I don’t got anything to do...”

Crystal eyes glitter in the morning sun as they gaze at you, golden rays creeping through the small gaps in his thick purple curtains, swaying gently in the wind.

Molars sink into the inside flesh of your cheek as you think, and Dabi tuts his tongue softly, a hand coming to gently pull the skin from between your teeth.

“Okay,”

His lips curl into a smirk, something sharp flashing in his cobalt eyes. “Okay,”

That’s how it begins—with deceptively bright, youthful smiles and cherry pie for breakfast— and five days later, in the backseat of his Cadillac Eldorado while James Cagney flickers on a worn out, off-white screen and two of his fingers are three knuckles deep in you, he asks you to be his, digits curling in your pretty little pussy as he breathes the words against the shell of your ear.

You’re whimpering out yes as you cum, nodding almost frantically against his shoulder as your hips roll towards his palm.

That’s it, that’s his good girl.

✰ ✰ ✰

But it progresses faster than you ever thought it would—faster than you ever thought possible—like a shot of morphine straight to your bloodstream, pupils gaping as DabiDabiDabi surges through your veins, becoming all you can think about—all you want to think about, all you want to do, eat, feel, breathe.

Midnight double-features of old Hollywood films at the local rundown drive-in become one of the many staples of your relationship, finding comfort in the sharp smell of buttersalt popcorn stinging your nose, in the way the film’s sound cracks and pops as it travels through the car radio, staticky like an old record, in the way Dabi forces a cherry Jolly Rancher from his mouth into yours, the hard candy clacking against your teeth.

This is how you spend most of your weeknights for the next month or so—passing candy through kisses in the backseat of the Eldorado, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, stained red and purple and blue from the cheap artificial dye, hands wandering up dresses and little fingers tugging at beltloops and buckles.

On Saturday mornings—sometimes Sundays, too, if you’ve been a really good girl—you find yourself in a familiar red booth at The League—a little diner tucked away on one of the city side streets not too far from Dabi’s apartment—cheap speckled plastic glittering in the sunlight and sticking to your thighs as your favourite waitress, a young woman by the name of Himiko who insists that you call her Mimi, takes your order. She seems to know your Daddy—your Dabi—somehow, but you don’t press, because it’s impolite to pry, you know and niisan raised you better than this.

He always lets you pick what you want for breakfast, but Daddy always orders it for you, always reminds you the mornings you decide on pancakes that if you get those, you aren’t allowed any sundaes or a slice of pie, because too much sugar is bad for his babygirl, and he knows how much syrup you drown those things in, dollface.

But there’s one staple of your relationship that you love more than all the others.

Joyrides.

That’s what he calls them, those drives through the bad parts of the city, the parts with cracked concrete sidewalks and shattered glass and needles littered in the dying grass.

Dabi takes you along frequently, tells you that you have an important job to do, that you play a crucial role in this whole operation, because the police—including your father—have been cracking down especially hard on dealing in this area. But nobody bothers to question a seemingly innocent young woman delivering inconspicuous brown paper bags—bags full of pretty little pills and tiny baggies of white powder—to shop owners and crumbling apartment complexes, eerily reminiscent of a Girl Scout selling cream filled cookies and thin-mints.

Keigo would kill you, if he knew.

It’s an instantaneous rush, though, being allowed to participate in Dabi’s business ventures, being allowed to help. It’s a privilege, you think, makes you feel like he trusts you, and you absolutely live for the praise, for that gorgeous smile he gives you after you deliver the sweets to the client, for the passionate kisses he rewards you with for being such a good little helper.

Joyrides are the best. Because it’s just you and him, the Eldorado’s radio struggling to play whatever station it’s picking up on—usually some sort of sixties rock—as you cruise the streets in his absurdly large car, the sky smeared with strokes of faded pinks and oranges, peppered with wispy clouds that look like loose strands of white cotton candy.

And sometimes, after his work is all finished, he’ll drive you to one of those cliffs you’ve come to know so well and let you ride him in the drivers seat—precious little whines and pathetic broken whimpers spilling from your lips as you rest your head against his shoulder, gyrating your hips in fast, shallow little circles, using his cock like it’s a toy, just like he told you to—before taking you back home to fuck you properly, to fuck you right.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s quaint, the little house you and your niisan live in, with its perfectly trimmed hedges and well-manicured grass, a stone walkway leading up to the front door, which is painted white. White windowsills, white brick, white, white, white, the whole thing is white—bright, pure, untarnished.

It’s just enough space for the two of you, your adoptive father, an absurdly large man by the name of Toshinori Yagi, had stated proudly, the first day he showed it to you.

And it’s only a short walk from the university, his wife chimed in with a smile too wide for her face, nodding excessively.

It’s convenient, they had said, the day you received your acceptance letter and scholarship offer from the university your brother attended. It’ll be good for you to stay with your older brother for a little, before going off into the world on your own, they had promised.

You hadn’t really wanted to go to this university—would’ve much preferred to go away to school in another country—but you didn’t. Keigo knew it, too, knew your desire to leave, to see more of the world, to experience it on your own without that hulking shadow with the wild hair. But he coaxed you into it, convinced you to stay, just like he always does, begging you softly not to leave your poor niisan all alone as gentle fingers pushed locks of hair from your face, trailing down your cheek and coming to cup your jaw, reminding you that you’re all each other has.

And you had nodded, nuzzled your face against his palm, sought comfort and relief in the presence of your big brother, just as you always do. He was right; you had your entire life to travel the world, what’s the rush? Why leave now? Stay with him, just for a little longer.

But your niisan, your niisan has a secret.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. Keigo has always had a penchant for living fast, after all, seems to somehow incorporate conceptual and literal speed into all aspects of his life—his marks in school, his record-breaking track races, and now, his personal life, too.

It started in high school. He was in twelfth grade. You still don’t know who gave him his first taste, still don’t know why he decided to shoot up that night, but he did.

And it made him feel invincible. It made him feel like he could fly.

He hid it well, didn’t look like a heroin addict—at least, not what the words ‘heroin addict’ usually conjure up. His topaz eyes were bright as ever, even if his pupils were just a pinprick; nails cut so short it looked painful, to keep from scratching and scabbing his body; was always sure to keep his track marks well hidden, methodical in choosing his injection sites, and kept up with regular hygiene, even if his wild, windswept hair did get a little messier.

Yes, he hid it well.

But he couldn’t hide it from you for long, didn’t hide it from you well enough, becoming increasingly careless the deeper he spiralled into the addiction.

And it takes a while for you to truly acknowledge it. You didn’t want to—not at first, anyway—didn’t want to believe that your all-star, top-of-his-class, golden-child of a big brother was a junkie.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way he began recklessly disposing of the needles in the small trash can under his desk instead of hiding them in the kitchen trash whenever your mother asked him to take it out, ignored the burnt spoon you found in the sink and the bloody Q-tips you found littering the counter of the bathroom the two of you shared, ignored the way those tiny orange syringe caps had begun appearing in odd places, seeming to pop up more and more frequently.

Yes, you ignored it, until he stole one of the shoelaces off of your sneakers. And you still can’t explain it, exactly, can’t explain why that was the final straw, why that had you gripping a laceless shoe in a trembling hand as you stormed into the washroom uninvited and unannounced, catching him with the string between his teeth, just as the last of that disgusting orangish-brown liquid sunk into his veins.

The words disintegrate on your tongue, escaping in a pitiful little squeak, all of the fury you felt towards him for his behaviour melting the instant your eyes catch the end of the injection, wide and unblinking as they stare at the needle stuck in his forearm.

For a moment, neither of you are able to speak, Keigo’s mouth opening and closing a few times as his eyes flood with tears, the prettiest topaz shining in the warm washroom light as they frenetically search your face.

“Sit,” you tell him, finally breaking the silence, your voice not your own. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head a little in misunderstanding, but you persist. “Sit,”

Shoulders deflating, he holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding once and obeying, sitting on the closed toilet.

“We have to—” you stop as your chin begins to wobble, swallowing thickly against the sob crawling up your throat, quivering hands rooting haphazardly through a first-aid kit. “W-We have to clean those, so they don’t get infected,”

Glassy golden eyes watch you intently, his chest hiccupping just a little as he wordlessly holds his arms out to you, armed with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, the scent stinging your nose.

There aren’t many—only a few little pinpricks on each arm, some decorated with dark blooms of periwinkle and violet, but they still cause your tongue to crumble to bitter, suffocating ash in your mouth.

Tiny fingers encircle his wrist, your touch always so soft, so gentle, as if you’re afraid to break him, and he chokes on a noise that sounds suspiciously similar to a sob.

“You don’t—You shouldn’t have to—” and he can’t even force the words out, breathing out forcefully through his nose as his tears finally overflow, glistening drops streaming down his cheeks, bleary eyes unblinking, focused on your little fingers as they continue their tender ministrations with so much care, with so much love it’s nearly stifling, and he can’t breathe, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it—

“I want to,” a knuckle catches one of his fresh tears, swiping it across his cheekbone and leaving a glimmering trail in its wake. “Alright? I want to,”

And this—this becomes a habit.

✰ ✰ ✰

You don’t tell Keigo about your relationship. Not at first, at least, conjuring up flimsy excuses that become more ridiculous as the days pass, as your disappearances steadily increase. Dabi doesn’t want to, makes up some bullshit excuse about how he isn’t ready yet. But you buy it anyway, and you wait.

Until the morning of one of your niisan’s big races, the ones where multiple trainers and coaches come from all over the country to assess his performance, when Dabi shows up entirely unannounced and uninvited, makes sure he’s in Keigo’s line of sight as he bounces around at the starting line, and kisses the life out of you, right in front of him.

That’s the only time he attends one of Keigo’s races.

The rest you continue attending by yourself. Dabi doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to have you out of his sight at all lately, but he knows it’s moot to argue with you. You’re going, you told him firmly, the night before Keigo’s next race, whether he likes it or not.

But, boy, was your niisan fuming by the time the two of you arrived home that day.

He hadn’t cared that he had, essentially, lost the race, hadn’t cared that he didn’t even manage to place in the top three for the first time in literal years, hadn’t cared that he just blew several chances with potential coaches and sponsors.

None of it mattered.

With a rough hand wrapped around your bicep, he all but yanks you out of the car, doesn’t care that you’re stumbling over your own feet as he drags you towards the front door, doesn’t care that he shoves you inside the house so hard you do trip, crying out as your hands and knees collide with the cold tiled floor.

And he’s yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, the moment that white door slams shut, shut so hard the walls tremble.

“Fucking Touya Todoroki!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You can barely see him through your tears as you quickly flip yourself over, beginning to inch away on your hands and feet as you stare up at him, breath hitching in your chest.

“Wh-Who?”

“Dabi, for Christ sake!”

“T-T—” Touya?

“Oh Jesus, don’t tell me—He didn’t tell you his fucking name?”

No, you shake your head quickly, chest stuttering as the name echoes through your mind, your big brother nothing but a blur of crimson and gold advancing towards you, mumbling to himself about how no, of course he didn’t, why would he? Of course not, as he drags nimble fingers through his messy hair.

“To-Todo—”

“Todoroki,” he spits, so harsh it makes you flinch.

“Your coa—”

“Yeah, I know his father,” Keigo rolls his eyes as he crouches down, catches your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, and you cease all action immediately, freezing in his grip. “You know his brother,”

Your brow furrows as you belatedly search your memory for any instance of the name, gunmetal grey and snow white flashing through your mind, but everything’s too foggy, too hazy with the fear of disappointing your niisan more, eyes squeezing shut as you hiccup at the mere thought.

But then he’s sighing, always knows when he’s gone a little too far—you are very delicate, after all, so small and naïve and in desperate need of someone to take care of you, aren’t you?—collapsing back on his heels and pulling you into his lap as soft hands smooth down your hair, murmuring it’s alright, it’s alright and niisan’s got you, niisan’s got you.

“What’re you doin’ with a man like that, my little songbird?” his voice is gentle as he rocks your bodies back and forth, after your sobs have calmed a bit.

What are you? you want to ask, front teeth sinking into your tongue hard enough to make you wince, keeping those three tiny words inside of your mouth.

“I like him,” you mumble instead, nuzzling your face into his chest and hiding from those bright, inquisitive topaz eyes.

“You—You like him,” he snorts to himself in disbelief, shaking his head a little.

“I do,” you respond, a little firmer as you pull back to stare at your big brother’s face, eyebrows knit together in determination, sparks of fury igniting deep in your chest at the thought of Keigo thinking he knows better, when he’s just as bad.

“He isn’t good for you—”

“He isn’t good for you,” you shoot back, tone clipped as you level your gaze, squirming a little in his arms. His grasp tightens, like he’s terrified you’re going to leave, honey eyes holding yours for a beat before he lets out a breath, looking away, defeated.

“That doesn’t mean you should be allowed to see him,” he mutters, glancing at your tear-stained face for a moment before his eyes flit away again. “But…” his chest rises with a deep inhale, pressing against you. “I guess…I guess it isn’t very fair of me to, uh, judge you, is it?”

“No,” you pout a little. “It isn’t,”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, gazing at you from the side of his eye, a tiny smirk spreading across his face. “Stop being so cute,” he grumbles, squeezing you against him just a bit too hard, giggles spilling from your lips as your fingers curl in the cotton of his hoodie. “I’m trying to be mad at you, y’know,”

“Kei-nii,” you whine with a roll of your eyes, shoving his shoulder weakly, though there’s a smile on your lips.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s saying as lithe fingers brush some hair back from your face, palm resting against your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw rhythmically. “Just—Promise me, if he ever hurts you…You’ll tell me immediately, yeah?”

Blinking a few times, your eyes search his face, sobering up as gold bores into you. There’s something in his stare, something you’ve never seen before, something that you can’t decipher, and it sends chills pebbling across your skin. Swallowing thickly, you nod, little jerky movements as your eyes hold his. “Y-Yeah, promise, niisan,”

“Good,” he whispers, chin resting atop the crown of your head as he cradles you to his chest. “We’re all we have. Never forget it.”

✰ ✰ ✰

You only question Dabi about his name once, lounging around on his bed in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, with his large hand resting on your bare thigh. His head’s tipped back against the headboard as he exhales smoke in pretty little curls that disintegrate into hazy nothingness only a moment later.

“T-Touya?” Your hearts thudding against your ribcage as you almost whisper the name, barely audible at all, but his head snaps forward, sapphire eyes finding yours immediately.

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, that you’ve crossed some invisible line you hadn’t had a clue about, his glare scathing your skin; but then his features relax, and a little smirk spreads across his lips.

“Ah, so he finally told you,” his voice is quiet, and you can’t read his tone, eyes squinting a little as you lean towards him. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he speaks up, voice ringing out clear and strong. “Don’t call me that again,”

The or else is implied, and you nod meekly, promising him softly that you’ll never utter it again.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s been gnawing at you all week, sitting heavy like a block of lead in your stomach, the cuticles on your left thumb bitten raw in agitation. You need to tell him. You’re going to tell him, it’s just…

It just never seemed like the right time to tell him—then again, is there ever a right time to tell your older brother that you’re spending the entire weekend at his drug dealer’s place?

But now it’s Friday, and Dabi will be here in a few minutes, and you still have yet to let Keigo know.

Because Keigo is currently otherwise occupied. With a girl.

You hadn’t been expecting to hear the tinny laughter of a woman when you entered the house, arriving home after your last class of the day, hadn’t been expecting to walk into the living room to find said girl splayed across your niisan’s lap, staring up at him dreamily as endless giggles spilled from her painted lips, hadn’t been expecting him to be so completely enamoured with her that he doesn’t even greet you.

It burns up all of the anxiety that had been building inside you in an instant, turns it into boiling rage that bubbles and pops, noxious as it rises up your throat.

And so, you decide that you won’t say anything at all. If he’s too busy to even acknowledge you like he normally does every single day, then surely he doesn’t care if you leave, right?

“I’m going out,” you toss airily over your shoulder as your halfway out the front door, a small grin spreading across you lips as you spot Dabi leaning lazily against his car. He gives you a nod of acknowledgement, smug grin of his own forming on his lips.

Keigo shoots up immediately, nearly knocking the girl to the floor, moving faster than he ever has in his life as he catches your wrist and tugs, hard. A loud yelp sounds from the back of your throat and you stumble backwards, right into your big brother’s chest.

“Where? Huh? Where?” he growls out the word through clenched teeth, squeezing again. “With who? That—That fucking scumbag?”

At the sound of your yelp, Dabi straightens up instantly, usual lidded eyes now wide open and alert, zeroing in on where Keigo has ensnared you.

“Not like it matters to you, not when you have a whore to entertain,” you spit, and though your gaze is blazing, your eyes are filling with tears, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Right?” you push, after a few moments of silence.

His grip loosens, although he doesn’t let go completely, fingers still clasped around you.

“Princess, I…”

“No,” you snap, viciously pulling yourself free of him. “Don’t princess me. Not after ignoring me like that,”

“You’re overreacting—”

“Then so are you,” you cut him off sharply, already beginning to back away and blinking hard to clear your eyes of stubborn tears. “I’m spending the weekend at Dabi’s. I’ll see you on Sunday,”

Dabi catches you the moment you’re within reach, drawing you close to his chest for a second before pulling back. Calloused hands gently raise your wrist, sapphire eyes assessing the damage. His thumb caresses the rapidly bruising area rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, and he frowns deeply, his gaze finally meeting yours.

“Does he do this often? Hurt you like this?”

And it’s startling, shocking, to see the overflowing concern in his crystal eyes, studying your face intently as you try to find your voice. You don’t think he’s ever sounded that serious before.

“I—No, of course not,” you shake your head, tongue tripping over the words. “We—Y’know, siblings fight, and stuff, it’s—he doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes, uh, forgets it, a-and I bruise easily,” you shrug, wincing a little at the serious expression still etched deep into Dabi’s face.

“If he ever puts his hands on you again, I’ll fucking kill him,” Dabi says slowly, softly, as if he’s reciting the morning news to you, dark eyes drifting up to refocus on the figure still standing in the doorway. “Do you understand me?” he asks, though his stare does not leave Keigo’s, voice still calm, almost serene. “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He won’t, you reassure him, countless times over the next few weeks. Niisan’s never intentionally hurt me, Daddy, he won’t, I promise.

And they’re all true, those words you repeat to him, over and over and over again, while you comb fingers through his inky hair or press chaste kisses against his scarred skin. They’re all true.

Until they aren’t.

You should’ve known, really, not to talk about it. He doesn’t—not when you’re cleaning his track marks or wiping sweat from his forehead, not when he lays his head in your lap as he’s coming down, eyes fluttering as your fingers thread through his hair, not even when you’re feeding him teaspoons of water to keep him hydrated as his body forces him to throw up nothing, again, lips dry and cracked, skin clammy and cold—and you shouldn’t, either.

“Have you ever thought about switching to pills?” You ask one night, casually, as if this is mundane, normal, to discuss while washing dishes. “I heard oxy is like, heroin in a pill,”

His jaw clenches, you can see the motion out of the corner of your eye, quickly refocusing your gaze on the bowl in your hands, the same bowl you’ve been washing for about five minutes now.

“No.”

“Why not? They’re more controlled—”

“I said no,”

“And I asked why not,” you spit, dropping the bowl from your hands. It cracks as it collides with the aluminum of the sink, the sound piercing through the tense air as you turn to glare at your brother, soapy hands on your hips. “It would be safer—”

“Marginally—”

“That’s still better than nothing, Keigo! Christ,” you sigh, running a sudsy hand through your hair. “They’re all fucking opioids, what’s the difference!? They’re all gonna get you high the same way, aren’t they?”

“No—for fuck’s sake—”

You wouldn’t understand, even if he tried to explain to you. You wouldn’t understand that he’s already attempted this, attempted to switch from heroin to pills, and that it wasn’t the same—isn’t the same. You wouldn’t understand that oxy doesn’t give the same instantaneous rush as heroin does, doesn’t take his breath away like heroin does, doesn’t warm his entire fucking body the way heroin does.

No, you wouldn’t understand how most of the time he feels like he can’t fucking breathe until he shoots up, wouldn’t understand how, at this point, heroin feels like an old friend, safe and cozy and more comforting than anything he’s ever felt before, than even your arms are, wouldn’t understand how heroin makes him feel like he’s fucking invincible, like he can take on the entire world in one day, like he can continue living.

It makes him feel whole again, full again, put back together with no cracks or missing pieces. It distracts him from how irrevocably shattered his insides truly are, providing him with quick, fleeting relief, just long enough for him to keep going, keep striving, keep breathing. But you wouldn’t understand any of that. How could you?

He’s sighing as he walks away from you, raking both hands through golden hair.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t see what this shit is doing to you! It’s killing you, niisan!”

God, no, not the honorific. Not when you’re gazing at him with tears spilling from your eyes, little hands desperately pawing at his t-shirt, urgent just to make him understand, to get through to him for one instant.

“I-It’s killing you and all I can do is watch,” your voice fades into a whisper, breaking on the last word as more tears streak your cheeks, leaving small gleaming trails in their wake, fingers readjusting, knotting in his shirt and tugging, latching onto him as he keeps walking, jaw clenching again as he tries to ignore you. “Y-You have to stop—no, no, n-not stop, just—just slow down, yeah? Slow down a little, it’s—it’s too fast, niisan, you’re going too fast—”

But it’s building, and building, and his head is throbbing, and throbbing, and your voice is rising higher and higher, louder and louder, and it’s all just too much, and before he even knows what’s happening, his hand is cutting through the air, knuckles colliding with your cheek so hard it sends you stumbling backwards, tripping over your own feet as you fall on your ass.

He regrets it the moment it happens, the very moment his skin makes contact with yours.

But that doesn’t matter; the damage is already done.

He’s never hit you before. Sure, he may be a little rough sometimes, and his grip may leave a few bruises every once in a while, but he has never deliberately hit you, until today.

He never thought he would.

Golden eyes dart from his hand, still raised in the air from where it struck you, blood gleaming on his silver rings, to your face, small and terrified, crimson flowing down your cheek, mixing with your tears as it slowly drips off your jaw, and then back to his hand.

And for a moment, he swears, the whole world stops.

Then, a mere second later, his whole world shatters.

You’re trying to form words, staring up at him with impossibly wide, unblinking eyes, but they’re just escaping your lips in little mumbles, half-formed and coated in spit.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, nothing more than a pitiful huff of air formed in the shape of a curse leaving his lips.

It takes your mind a moment to register what’s happened, numb with dizzying shock, stupid with the most heartbreaking pain, dazed as tiny, trembling fingers raise to tenderly prod at the wound, wincing the moment they make contact. But the throbbing of your cheek brings you back quicker than Keigo would’ve liked, and then your eyebrows are knitting together, mouth settling in a wobbly line, blinking hard to clear your eyes of pesky tears.

And all he can do is watch, watch as you shakily push yourself to your feet, watch as your hand grips your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline—a lifeline he very briefly thinks about diving forward and snatching out of your grasp—watch as you turn on the balls of your feet and disappear down the hall, the slam of your bedroom door echoing a moment later.

You barely make it into your bedroom before your collapsing on the floor, wheezing out uneven breaths, sharp, hard huffs of air that slice through your tight chest with each exhale, vision blurry with stinging tears as you stare down at your phone, cradled in quivering hands.

You know that if you make this phone call, Dabi will never let you come back. You know that if you make this phone call, this is it. Trembling fingers hesitate over his name, those four glowing letters staring back at you, an unnecessary amount of various heart emojis cushioning them.

He doesn’t pick up the first time. Maybe it’s a sign, you think to yourself, a sign that you shouldn’t leave just yet, that you should stay and rot away with him for a little bit longer, remain with him for a little more and give him another piece of your soul that he can add to his prized collection as he slowly steals your life force from you.

But then searing pain radiates through your entire face, along your jaw and to the back of your head, and the coppery smell of blood stings your nose, and you press on Dabi’s name again.

✰ ✰ ✰

If he’s being honest, he would’ve never picked up for anyone but you, probably would’ve killed the idiot that thought to interrupt him during one of the biggest deals of his career—of his life.

“What?” he snarls as he answers, pacing along the wall outside the warehouse like a rabid dog, anxious and eager. “This better be important, sweetheart. You knew I was meeting with one of the bosses today—”

“He hit me,”

It’s hard to understand you when you’re still sobbing, words all wet and garbled, and Dabi squints as he focuses his concentration, feet skidding to a stop as his heart begins to pound.

“What?”

“He hit me. Nii—Keigo hit me,”

And then, his blood runs cold. His ears are ringing, vision fading in and out of focus as red tinges the edges, breathing beginning to accelerate, exhaled harshly through flared nostrils. The thin skin stretched taut across his bony knuckles has turned white as he grips his phone so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand.

“Pack your shit,” he tells you, voice oddly calm, cold and sterile and sending shivers skittering up your spine. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,”

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi #takami keigo #bnha smut #mha smut #aaaaaah fucking MONSTER #anywayyy cant wait to hear what u all think!!!#dabi don't get mad at me i lost track of time editing n i've been real good going to bed on time #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw daddy kink #tw drugs #tw:abuse

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filterjeons · 3 years

Text

baby baby | kth

✦ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

✦ summary: you’re practically taehyung’s favorite girl. even though you are just his sugar baby, he loves you more than any one of his before. unfortunately, you started to turn into the complete opposite of the girl you were before but luckily for him, he knows how to put you back in your place

✦ rating: M, not suitable for minors

✦ genre: smut

✦ word count: 5.7k

✦ warnings: dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sugar daddy/dilf!taehyung, degradation, dumbification, anal play, oral (f receiving), fingering, rough and unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare

Taehyung sighed to himself as he “patiently” waited for you to finish looking through the abundance of clothes that are hung on the racks of the clothing store you two were in. What’s worse is that you probably already have those exact dresses, blouses or skirts but they’re just in a different color. Yet, your irresistible puppy eyes convinced him to drive you to the mall and spend a good amount on you.

When he decided to become your sugar daddy, he should’ve expected to create such a monster because every month he spends at least $5,000 on different sorts of clothes, shoes, makeup, or miscellaneous items. It wasn’t like it was a financial problem for him but because you were his absolute favorite, he was prone to giving you anything that you ever wanted. Now that he thinks about it, you were the most spoiled out of all of his previous sugar babies. You recently asked him to order a bunch of packages and now here you are, going to spend even more money on more clothes that are only going to go in your closet.

Despite all of that, he really loved you and wanted to make sure you were happy. The first time you two met was in a convenience store on a rainy day where you used to work part time. Back then, you were tired all of the time because not only were you working as soon as school ended but you also had to study like crazy once your shift was over. Even after you took on his offer of being his sugar baby, you still worked hard to maintain your scholarship and pay for your best friend Lisa’s rent. Plus, you always spent time with him whenever you had a free day which wasn’t required but it made him happy.

None of his past sugar babies were that caring, they just only wanted him for the money and genuinely didn’t care about him. He didn’t require them to keep him company or be in a relationship, hell he even was aware of the relationships they had with other people. He didn’t expect you to date him either because of the age gap between the two of you shared. He was 29 and you were only 19, in your second year of college. But you decided to be his girlfriend because you really liked him regardless of the money and because of that, he always had a special place in his heart for you.

What’s the point of buying all these clothes when he’s just going to rip them off of you?, he thought as he watched you shift through the neat piles of skirts. Another reason why he has a favoritism towards you was that you were just the best with him in bed. Some days you’ll be obedient and he’ll be caring with you but on other days, you’ll put on a bratty front and he’ll simply fuck it out of you with extra care at the end. He assumes that today will be the latter because of your spoiled attitude right now.

“Y/N honey, I don’t think you’re going to buy anything here so let’s go home now-” Taehyung said, walking over towards you but you brushed him off.

“Just wait for 5 minutes. I wanna see if this’ll look good on me,” you protested.

“It’ll always look good on you. Besides, don’t you have that same dress but in pink?” “I want the black one now, it’s for a party I’m going later on.”

“A party? How come you didn’t let me know before?” You were absolutely perfect in Taehyung’s eyes but a thing that he wasn’t really fond of was him knowing of your plans last-minute. Most of the time it was an accident because you tend to forget things easily but for some reason, it sounded like you didn’t want to tell him earlier.

“Because it’s none of your business. Ugh, there’s nothing good here so I guess I’m going to get this one. Daddy, can I have your credit card?” you grumbled, putting back the pile of clothes that were laying on your arm while the other was texting your friend Lisa.

“Your business is mine because I also have to keep you safe from anything bad that could happen to you. Where is the party?” “At the club of course! Come on Taehyung, who wouldn’t have a party at a club?” “It’s with Lisa, right?” “Why do you care so much, you’ve met her before! She’s literally my best friend and of course I have to go. Just give me your credit card al-”

“Put the dress down. I’m not buying you anything today because of the attitude you just showed me,” he said darkly, trying to get you to listen to him.

“Why not? What did I do wrong?”

“I think I already spent too much on you because now you’re acting like a spoiled little girl,” he growled softly above your ear, his aura overtaking you and making your heart race.

“But...but, I want this one!” you whined, giving him your best pout and stomping your feet like a little toddler. Taehyung laughed at your childish behavior but his decision still remained firm.

“Please Daddy? Please, please, please!”

“No means no. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

“It’s not even that expensive!”

“Y/N, the money isn’t the problem for me. It’s the way you’re speaking to me.”

“Daddy, you said that you’ll buy me anything right? You love me right? Do you not love me anymore? Am I not your favorite?” you pulled the last-attempt lines that typically got Taehyung to do whatever you want. You knew in your heart that he’ll only love you and he blatantly shows his favoritism for you but those words always got him to give in and buy the item.

Taehyung’s expression shifted from softening his stance and debating to giving in before deciding to not settle down to you. It was so close before he surrendered and spent even more money on you. He already loved you since you were his only sugar baby right now and he’s sure you know it too but this time, he’s not going to lose to your charms.

“I’ve already bought you so much stuff, is that not enough for my bratty little baby?” he asked coldly, pulling a card that you’ve never heard before. He’s never called you a brat outright but the degrading name made your stomach turn and a whimper come out of your mouth. “Does she want more?”

“I-I-” “Are you a little brat who likes to be spoiled with Daddy’s money?”

You felt cool sweat dripping down your forehead as you tried to think of a comeback that could match him but most of your previous ones won’t work on him. All you could think of is…

“Yes I am, Daddy.” That nearly sent Taehyung to the edge as he made you put back the dress, grabbed your hand, and walked you out of the mall and into his limo which still amazes you to this day. The chauffeur didn’t even need to interact with you two as he pulled up the golden partition, giving you alone time with him.

“You used to be such a good little girl but now your behavior has gotten worse. It’s such a shame that I have to punish you on the night before your best friend’s party. I would’ve let you go if you told me before but I don’t think that’s an option, especially for what I’m about to do to you when we get home. Besides, we haven’t had sex together in a while now; wouldn’t you have much more fun playing with me than going to a normal party?” he whispered darkly, his hand slowly creeping up your thigh as your face started to blush.

Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that you were the same girl a couple of months ago when he first met you. He remembered the first time he took you to a high-end clothing store, the look on your face when you read the price tag and the way you puffed up in anger when he swiped his credit card on an expensive dress that’ll absolutely look stunning on you.

Now after getting used to buying more items, you took a full 180 on your personality which led you to be the girl you were now. But even though you showed a bratty and whiny facade, he still knew you kept your hard-working and kind heart because it was a part of you that never went away. Alongside your submission to him.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whimpered, his fingers lightly grazing the front of your pussy and feeling the embarrassing wet patch on your panties from your arousal.

“Are you enjoying this? Did you want this all along? Are you acting up like a bad girl because you want me to dom you?” he chuckled, his warm mouth leaving hickeys along the side of your neck and pushing his fingers past your underwear and into your core.

“I...I…” you were breathless, already squirming from his touch and worrying that the chauffeur could hear you. Although there were times when the both of you had no shame in his car, for some reason it was humiliating for him to hear you wrecked like this.

“Huh, are you worried that he might hear you? Do you want him to hear you fucked out against my fingers like a little slut?”

“Oh, uh…” you let out a quiet whimper as you try to cover your noises with your sweater sleeve. Taehyung smirked at how weak you looked as he started to pump his digits in and out of you, the action making squelching noises and the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit. You were absolutely dripping onto his fingers and your panties as muffled sounds were slipping out of your lips.

“Naughty girl,” he tsked as the limo came to a halt in presumably the front of his mansion and he pulled his hand out of your core, licking the excess liquids. You whined at the dirty action and the loss of contact as the chauffeur turned off the engine and exited the driver’s seat to open your door.

“Thank you so much Michael,” Taehyung smiled as the door opened for the both of you to get out. He was acting like he didn’t make you hot and bothered earlier ago while you already looked flustered and out of breath. You knew that he’s absolutely going to snap once the two of you are behind closed doors but you weren’t worried at all. Rather, you were proud of yourself for bringing him to that point because you really enjoyed getting punished by him.

“Strip off your clothes baby girl. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Taehyung says darkly once you get inside his master bedroom. You gaped at him, suddenly feeling shy about yourself.

“Wh-what?” “You should’ve got it the first time. Take off your clothes, missy.”

Even though you were in trouble with him, you still didn’t want to back down to him completely yet so you decided to give him an eye roll and a dramatic groan.

“It’s no use being a brat to me now, rather it’ll just make your punishment worse. I’m saying this for the final time Y/N, strip. Now,” he snarled, his darkened eyes burning daggers into you as he eyed you expectantly.

At this point, there was no use in arguing with him so you huffed and gave in to his demand. You pulled off your sweater and bra, leaving you in just your skirt, thigh-highs, and panties.

“Take off your panties, I just want to see you in your skirt and stockings,” Taehyung demanded, waiting for you to finish. You were surprised he didn’t want you to take off all your clothes but he always loved seeing you in a skirt due to your tendency to wear them often. You slipped off your undies and tossed them in the side, leaving you in the thigh-highs and the skirt that barely left any room to hide yourself.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his bulging hard dick sticking out against his jeans as he manhandled you onto the edge of his bed, the curve of your ass sticking out. You could feel him grind onto you roughly, making you crave more of him. “You’re such a bad little girl, I’m not going to go easy on you.” “Well, bring it on,” you jeered, facing him and trying to rile him up even more. Your statement lit a fire in him because he pushed you down on the bed and immediately attached his lip onto yours in a hungry kiss. You tried to kiss back but his pace was too rough and fast as he slipped his tongue inside yours to assert his dominance.

He broke off from the kiss and went down to your chest, kissing and sucking on your hardened nipple, even nibbling on them. The other one was taken care of by his long fingers, tugging on them and sending sparks of pain whenever he tugged them sharply. You let out a high-pitched moan as he typically never paid that much attention to your boobs.

Being the little shit he was, he decided to become more aggressive once he switched treatments on both nipples. In one, he was biting and sucking on it harshly with his teeth while the other was being flicked and pinched with his fingers. After hearing your mewls and whines, he decided to tug it upwards which created an electrifying shock towards you.

“Ahh! What-oh-oh my god!” you cried as your body tried to calm itself down from the pain while Taehyung watched your boob snap back into place with an evil smirk plastered on his face.

“Aww, does the little baby not like that? Does it hurt?” he mocked and you nodded, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes. “Too bad, little whore. It’s what you deserve after you acted like a dumb little bitch who’s only good for taking in dick.”

You gasped to yourself at the degrading terms, surprised at yourself for hearing him calling you that for the first time and how much you like that. Taehyung could tell as well because of the way your slick is coming down rapidly from your thighs.

“Does the stupid little girl like that? Do you like getting treated as just a dirty little cockwhore for me to use?” he asked, pulling up your skirt and making kitten licks on top of your pussy to tease you.

You bucked your hips up higher for him to keep going: both the degradation and him eating you out. Taehyung’s tongue always felt so good on you and the way he was staring at you could nearly make you cum right now.

“Yeah, you enjoy it so much huh? Being treated like a dumb baby who’s only good at making Daddy feel good? Do you want me to make you feel good? Does your little hole want to be filled up with my cock?”

“Yes,” you whined, thrashing against his face as the ache’s gotten worse for you. At this point, you wanted anything from him just so the burning sensation could feel better.

“Such a little slut. Always desperate for Daddy’s cock,” he shook his head as he licked a stripe of your core before turning you on your hands and knees, your ass in full display.

“Wh-what are you going to do?” you whispered, thinking of the times he’s gotten you in this position when you were in trouble with him. Most likely it’s going to be a spanking so you internally braced yourself for the impact.

“I’m going to do something different,” he replied, pulling up your skirt so your puckered hole was on display. He rubs a finger to prod your entrance, collecting the slick that was forming there. “We haven’t done anal before, have we?”

You shook your head, your heart racing on what he’s going to do with you. For some reason, it made you nervous as it was something that you’ve never done before and you’ve heard so much stuff about it from your friends and the magazines.

“Shh, don’t be nervous, it’ll be okay. You’ll be my good girl and take it, right?” Taehyung comforts you, kissing the back of your neck to calm you down and massaging your butt. You nodded, swallowing the lump down your throat to prepare yourself.

“I-I can do it,” you tried to say confidently, taking deep breaths.

“I know you can, you’re such an obedient little baby...some of the time,” he cooed, prodding your asshole with his thumb to try to get you used to the feeling and using your wetness as lube.

“Hey, what do you mean some of the time?” you barked, turning your head back to face him as a shit-eating grin was plastered on his face and his eyes darkened in lust. Apparently, his statement was supposed to distract you as he started to insert the first half of his thumb into your hole. “Daddy, what the fuck-” “Shh, relax baby,” he said in a soothing tone, feeling your walls clench around his digit tightly.

“Oh, okay,” you nodded and tried to calm yourself down as you took a deep breath and felt Taehyung’s thumb slowly starting to enter deeper inside of you, your walls trying to accommodate the stretch.

“You’re doing so good, taking Daddy’s thumb like such a good girl,” he praised softly, the compliment sending butterflies in your chest and making your face heating up even more. “It’s only a little bit left, you can do it baby.”

By now, you were a moaning and whining mess as you tried to stuff yourself into the pillows due to the embarrassing sounds you were making. You feel so full already and Taehyung wasn’t helping as he’s bringing his hand to the front of your pussy, flicking your clit.

“Such a sweet girl, you took all of my thumb,” he said with admirement, feeling the way your walls flutter around his finger tightly. The thought of you like this, all whiny and helpless under him while he takes you from behind, entered his mind and he let out a growl from the chance that he can make that thought into a reality.

All of a sudden, he pulled his thumb out of your hole, making you groan with disappointment as you were getting used to it inside you, before plunging his long pointer finger inside. You started to let out even more whines as you started to feel overwhelmed with the pleasure, both from the front and behind.

Taehyung added his middle finger and thrusted them in and out, quickening the pace while deciding to stick another one in, making you feel even more full than before. Your body started to tremble as you tried to keep up with him and steady yourself due to the rate he was going at.

“Jesus, have you gotten tighter than before?” he muttered, spreading your walls apart and making scissoring motions in an attempt to go deeper and stretching you out as much as possible so that you’re ready to take his dick later. Speaking of which, he felt himself grow harder with every little movement and sound you make, your cute noises boosting up his ego and turning him on.

You looked absolutely wrecked, the side of your face sprawled onto the pillows as your eyes were closed shut, mouth was open into a moan with drool slowly dripping down the corner of your lips, and your pretty ass sticking out for him as you started to grind on his hand, wanting to feel more.

“You’re enjoying this too much aren’t you, you bad little girl,” he tsked, fingering your hole harder and shoving his pinky inside. With practically all of his long digits inside, it hits every corner of your walls and gives you shocks of pleasure with every thrust which is leading you to your orgasmt. “Do you want my dick inside you, huh?” Your high-pitched squeals of need and you grinding your ass back to feel his hardened dick and chasing your high gave him the answer he needed. “You just want your little holes to be filled up, isn’t that right? Too bad.” All of a sudden, he immediately removed his hands and turned you back on your front, your legs sprawled out for him and your face contorting into a whine from the lack of contact.

“Why-why did you stop?” you panted, sweat dripping down your forehead as he was hitting every single part of you but ended it without any warning and leaving you dry.

“Because my little princess is still a bad little slut. Don’t worry though, maybe if you feed Daddy with your cute pussy, I’ll forgive you,” he replied as he licked a stripe up your cunt and made your body tremble from his dirty words. As he started to eat you out, you made eye contact with him and compared to his softer gaze, his naturally brown eyes are absolutely dark from lust which made him look intimidating. To tease you even more, he gave you a seductive wink and you felt yourself turn into putty as you let him do whatever he wants with you.

“D-daddy..” You were at a loss for words due to the bliss you were in. Taehyung was eating you out completely, kissing your clit, and humming occasionally to send vibrations throughout your sensitive core. His tongue was deep inside your entrance and his fingers were added as well to try to find your g-spot.

At this moment it was like you were in another world with your mind becoming absolutely blank and only focusing on him and your eyes nearly seeing stars. The noises inside the bedroom were extremely lewd, the squelching of your pussy as Taehyung eats you out and the whimpers and moans that are coming out of your mouth.

“Filthy little fuckslut,” he sighed, lapping at your clit and swirling it around between his tongue. When he lightly grazed on it with his teeth, the volume of your whines were even louder than before and you were ten seconds away from releasing.

“Does my angel want to come now? Is she going to release her sweet juices on my tongue?” he asked, staring at your fucked out face from below while thrusting his tongue muscle in and out.

“Mmh-” you whined, the familiar feeling that arises when you feel like releasing slowly taking over you as the rest of your body keeps writhing and twitching from the ministrations that Taehyung was doing to you.

“Pretty little baby,” he cooed, watching you starting to tremble as your orgasm was near. That sets off a reaction in your stomach because all of a sudden, you see your vision going blank and full of stars as you release all of your liquids on him.

It was like you had just dropped down from a roller coaster as you were still trying to come down from your high but it seems like it hasn’t stopped since more liquids were dripping down and soaking the bed sheets.

Taehyung looked at you in awe as some of it were splattered onto his face and surprisingly, your orgasm seemed more intense than before and you were squirting intensely onto his bed. He licked off some of your juices that were onto him before giving a final kiss on top of your cunt as he watches you slowly regain consciousness.

“Huh, what- oh shit, I’m so sorry,” you babbled, realizing what just happened and feeling completely embarrassed. Taehyung had no shame regarding what you two do in bed but it was still humiliating that you absolutely drenched his bed due to how good he was. “No no, it’s okay, besides it was really hot,” he smiled, trying to assure you that everything was fine. You rolled his eyes at his lewd remark as you slightly punched his shoulder, his comment definitely not helping.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked quietly.

“Of course not, you know I can never get mad at you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not done with you because I still haven’t fucked you yet,” he replied as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, giving you a mini strip-show.

Taehyung was a very attractive man and today it was evident as he kept staring straight at your face while taking off every piece of clothing on him. His honey skin was reflected against the late afternoon sun, causing it to glow like he was some god that came out of the sky. Although he wasn’t the most muscular, you were more than fine with how he looked because a man like him could have any girl in the world and he chose you.

“Why are you taking so long?” you whined as he slowly unbuckled his black jeans. You could see his hardened dick begging to be set free and knowing how good it looked and felt made you absolutely on your nerves as you impatiently kicked your feet immaturely.

“Patience, little girl,” he chided softly as he was now stripped down to his grey Calvin Kleins, palming his big bulge on top of his boxers. “Do you wanna take it off for me?” You nodded rapidly, crawling over to him and pulling down the restricting material. As soon as they were gone, his long and thick cock stood up instantly. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight of it with precum oozing out of the angry head. Honestly, his dick intimidated you due to how big it was and if it’s ever going to fit you despite sleeping together with him multiple times.

“Daddy…” you whispered as he pumped his length to let the precum slick it well. His hands were normally really big but for some reason, they looked small when they’re wrapped around his dick.

“What’s wrong, are you scared?” he teased lightly, a playful grin stuck on his face as he hovers above you to insert it in.

“N-no, I’m ready,” you said confidently as he aligns himself above your entrance, the tip of his dick slightly grazing your folds.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, immediately pushing himself in inch by inch, hitting all of your nerves and filling you up to the brim. You dig your nails behind his back to try to steady yourself as he seems to be going deeper than before, feeling him hit your g-spot and other nerves that weren’t explored before.

“A-ah, shit it feels so fucking good. Your cunt is so warm and tight for me, holy fucking hell, you like that baby? Like my big fucking cock inside your tiny little pussy?” he grunts, rolling his eyes back as soon as his whole dick was inside you. You mewled pathetically, not being able to find words of how you’re feeling.

Taehyung took your noises as a sign for him to keep going harder and faster. Although you were just getting used to his veiny and lengthy dick burning your cunt, it wasn’t for long as he started to take his dick out so only the tip was above you and slamming it back in. You squealed at the sudden fast pace, his dick pounding into you deeper and harder.

He snapped his hips harder and started to thrust even faster, making you feel delirious and out of breath. The pleasure was overwhelming due to how well and often he was hitting that spot that always made you weak and his deep moans and grunts were turning you on. Your eyes were glossy due to the tears that were slipping out from the euphoria you were in and the way your cute eyes stared at him from below only turned him on even more, fucking you as hard and fast as he can.

“Aww, is my little fucktoy crying? Is it too much for you, huh? Is it too overwhelming for my little baby?” he mocked once he saw your face, thrusting at an inhumane pace. You whimpered at the degradation with glossy eyes, which only set Taehyung off even more.

“Fucking shit, the things you do to me little girl. Daddy’s hitting it so hard and fast, right? You could feel Daddy’s dick deep in your stomach?” With that being said, he palmed the bottom of your stomach and sure enough you could feel the presence of his bulge in there.

“I-I- oh fuck, y-yeah, faster,” you stammered, embarrassed at yourself for not being able to form coherent sentences but at the pace Taehyung was going at, it was pretty useless to.

“Stupid little baby, only good for letting me use her tight and tiny little pussy, my stupid little doll,” he cooed while kissing your cheek affectionately, the soft action mixed with the degradation making your pussy flutter around his cock tightly.

At this point, you were ten seconds near your orgasm due to how well he was making you feel. The familiar knot that signals if you’re about to cum is near and the volume of your noises has risen, filling the rooms with your high-pitched squeals and whimpers.

“Is my baby going to cum soon now? Do you wanna be a good girl and cum for Daddy?” Taehyung asked in his raspy voice above your ear, fucking you against your g-spot.

His words sent off a reaction in you that leads you to your high. You screamed out his name and released every single one of your juices on his dick, your body trembling due to the impact. Taehyung gasps as he couldn’t move due to how tight you were squeezing his dick due to your orgasm.

“Fucking shit, that’s a good girl,” he sighed, watching you slowly try to come down from your climax. For some reason, that just made him ten times harder and wanting to cum as soon as possible.

You were in a state of euphoria, your vision being blackened out and your senses not thinking straight. As soon as you slowly started to regain consciousness, you found yourself in Taehyung’s close embrace as he started to speed up.

“Shh, shh, baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s here,” he said softly, kissing you with love as you started to whine from the overstimulation as Taehyung was continuing to fuck inside you to reach his own high. “Can you hold on for Daddy, please?” You nodded slowly, feeling a bit bad about cumming before him. Although it slightly burned since you were sensitive from your own orgasm, you decided to keep it to yourself just to let him climax.

“You’re such a sweet little girl, my good baby,” he grunts as he started to slow down and his thrusts became sloppier since he was getting close to his orgasm. You let out a cute whine and that’s what it took for Taehyung to release.

With a low guttural groan, you felt his dick inflate inside of you and shoot out loads of his cum. He slowly started to pull himself out of you while he was still releasing, making his seed spill out of you while the rest was stuffed inside of your cunt. He stroked his now sensitive dick to make each last drop land onto your cunt before flopping down next to you out of breath.

“You did so well baby, I love you so much,” he whispered cutely, showing his adorable box smile which made your heart swell while stuffing the remaining cum that was slowly starting to drip out inside of your battered cunt.

“I love you too,” you croacked back, trying to calm yourself down from the two intense orgasms you had and the overstimulation.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve gone too hard on you,” he started to apologize but you immediately stopped him.

“N-no, I’m completely fine. You did really well too,” you smile, hugging him tightly.

“You’re always so sweet but first let me take care of you, okay?” he grinned back, stepping out of the bed and into the bathroom to put on some clothes and clean you up. As soon as he came back, he handed you an oversized shirt and had a washcloth in his hand to clean up your thighs and core.

“Do you mind if I put you down for a bit? I’m going to clean the sheets,” he asked, carrying you onto a nearby chair and changing the sheets. Soon, the bed was back to normal and you two decided to sleep in.

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” you said amongst his broad chest as you were snuggled up against him.

“No, it’s okay. You’re still a good girl no matter what,” he reassured you, kissing the top of your head and looking out into the window. The sky has turned into a pitch-black with stars scattered in different areas like a painting. “I’m sorry that you’ll have to miss Lisa’s party. I guess it must be starting soon.’’ “Taehyung, don’t apologize for that. Besides, I’d rather hang out with you than go to a party. It’s okay, she’ll understand,” you said, brushing off his apologies. Of course you would like to hang out with your friend but being with him made you feel like the happiest girl in the world.

“You’re so cute, like a tiny little baby,” he cooed, squishing your cheeks which made you immediately brush his hands off. Due to your age gap, he always found you cute because you were younger than him and treated you like a baby sometimes. It was endearing but sometimes it can be plain annoying.

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you grumbled, turning away from him and placing a pillow on your head to prevent him from bothering you any further.

Taehyung laughed at your antics before slowly hugging you from behind and sleeping alongside you in that position.

With the previous sugar babies he had, he wouldn’t be sleeping with them in this position or have so much love and care but you were different. You absolutely stole his heart and even though you have your bratty moments, you will always be his number one.

a/n: damn this was filthy...but i hope the anons who requested this and y’all like it <3

taglist: @taesluttt, @laurynne5, @bonnyskies, @aretha170, @arthurflecc, @mytaetaey, @bts-txt-ateez, @maijinki, @pimentelssmile, @kookies-princess, @seventeenis-thedream, @impartoftoomanyfandoms

#btsbookclub #kpopuniversenet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #kafenetwork #magicshopnet #bts #bts smut #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfictions #dom taehyung #bts fanfictions #taehyung imagines #dom bts #dilf taehyung

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goldenkirstein · 3 years

Text

aot band! au headcanons pt. 1:

pt. two here

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

pairing: jean x fem! reader, eren x fem! reader, zeke x fem! reader

wc: 1.2k+

cw: smut (18+ minors DNI), reader has female anatomy, manipulation/corruption, dumbification/incoherence, sorta dubcon (?), mentions of spit, cockwarming, unprotected sex, cursing, dirty talk, creampie/breeding, cumplay, degradation, perv! zeke.

a/n: okayyyyy, so im reposting this, because i didn't like it the first time i posted it lol. i added and cut out some things still don't know if i really like it. anyways, i tried my best with tagging everything, i really hope i didn't miss anything, if i did please let me know. this is my first time writing anything smutty, i'd love to hear any feedback or criticism !!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

smut under the cut

jean kirstein

Jean would play the electric guitar.

He wouldn't have any big tattoos but tiny stick and pokes, but when he takes off his shirt, there would be this giant, intricate tattoo that spans his entire back.

He wears thin white t-shirts that cling to his body when he gets all sweaty from performing or when he douses himself in water because the lights make it really hot on stage, babe. The shirt becomes practically see-through, and when he turns around, you can see the outline of the back tattoo. You swear he does it on purpose.

HIS HANDS, calloused from hours of practice, wears chunky silver rings that make his long fingers stand out. He keeps his ring finger empty, though (he's a romantic and a big ol’ softie).

When he's writing songs or can't figure out what chord would sound right, he plays with his rings. He takes them off, sliding them up and down his finger until he's satisfied and moves on to the others.

It drives him insane if he sees you singing along to his songs at the concerts. He'll smirk at you, opting for a quick wink, before getting back to performing.

After the show, he’ll pull you into his lap, in whatever empty room is available. He’ll have his hands on your hips, the cold rings contrasting against your hot skin.

His heart would be beating so fast, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He just got off stage, and here you are, grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants, driving him crazy.

On most days, he liked it when you would fuck him post-show, sliding your skirt up and sink down on his cock.

He loved watching you fuck yourself dumb around him, tits bouncing in his face, head thrown back in pleasure. His cock would reduce you into an incoherent blubbering mess. The only thing making sense was the way you were chanting his name like a prayer.

this fucker would love to whisper the most filthy things in your ear, “you’re making such a mess around my cock, petal. You’re gonna be a good slut and clean it up after, right?”

when he’s about to cum, he turns into an absolute mess. He gets super whimpery and will hold you close to his chest as he dumps his load in you. He stays like that for a while, watching as his cum drips out of your cunt and down his dick.

He doesn’t let you get off his cock, partly because he’s so sensitive and partly because he secretly wants to stuff you full of his babies.

after he’s calmed down a bit, he’ll open his eyes and run a hand through his hair, letting out a small chuckle, “shit, baby, you keep fucking me like that and I might just have to put a ring around that finger.”

eren yeager

plays bass and is on vocals

he has a sleeve on one arm, and the other one is empty. It's pretty cohesive, and the pieces link together-think American traditional; he takes great pride in his tattoos. After all, they're pieces of art on his body.

He likes showing off on stage. He’ll take off his shirt and throw it into the crowd, and he loves hearing the screams that ensue afterwards.

Always the performer; he’ll walk off the stage and stand on the rails, getting the people in the crowd to run their hands down his sweat-slicked torso. It’s another crowd favourite.

he wears rings too, and his favourite thing to do is to get you to pull them off his fingers using your mouth. He has to coax you into each time, “I can’t pull them off by myself; they’re too tight, need your help, angel.” He just likes having you suck on his fingers; he won’t tell you that, though.

He likes the attention from the fans, but he mainly does it to get you hot and bothered. Eren stares at you while strangers are practically grabbing at him. It’s a game for him. Figure out just how many ways he can get to you.

you always avoid him after the shows, in a way to tell him that you're not impressed by the stunts he pulls.

As much as you try to run and hide, he always finds you. He’ll come up from behind, hands on your waist; you don’t need to see him to know that he’s got that Cheshire cat grin on his face.

Try to escape from his grip, and it’ll only get tighter, “what’d you think of my little performance, princess? Did it make you weak in the knees?”

He loves pushing your buttons, does everything to get a reaction out of you, try all you might, the night always ends the same way, you bent over his dressing room table, skirt lifted, panties to the side, and him fucking ruthlessly into you from behind.

the stoic front you put up would be practically erased from the way his cock slides in and out of your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

He loves hearing you beg for him; he wants to listen to the vulgar words fall from your mouth, wants to have you begging him to let you cum, pleading for him to cum in your pussy.

He’ll tease you endlessly, “what’s that angel? If you want my cum so bad, you gotta beg better than that.” In the end, he always gives in, also liking the way his seed drips out of your pulsating hole.

Before any can drip down your thighs, he’ll slide back your panties, straighten out your skirt and send you off, saying that, “it’s for later, for when you try fingering that pretty little pussy, you’ll always have a reminder of who owns it.”

Bonus: tour manager! zeke yeager:

tour manager zeke, who watches the shows from the venue’s back, keeping his eyes trained on you.

Tour manager zeke who has a reputation for being a sleazebag, a cheapskate and vile to women.

Tour manager zeke, who watches as you stay back after each show to clean up, smiling ever so sweetly at him, “no mr. yeager, I really don’t mind helping out. It’s the least I can do.”

tour manager zeke, who can’t help think of shameful things when you bend over to pick up the crumpled posters, his eyes that linger a little too long at the swell of your pert ass.

Tour manager zeke thinks about how your mouth would feel around his cock, how your eyes would tear up as he pushed your head further and further down his cock. How pretty you would look with spit and cum coating that sweet face of yours.

Tour manager zeke, who has always been kind to you, offering to take you home for the night, telling you how cute you look and how he can’t believe you’re over 18.

Tour manager zeke wants to defile you and make you his, ruin you so that you can only get off from his cock and no one else’s.

Tour manager zeke wants to teach you how to suck dick, how to ride, how to fuck.

Tour manager zeke, who treats you so nicely, putting false notions in your mind so you can let your guard down around him, hoping that one day he can shape you into his plaything.

a/n: hope the smut sounded right this time around lmao, i might scrap it in the morning again idek yet, just wanted to see if i could even write smut.

I am working on the second part of somewhere only we know !! thank you for all the love on that.

if this does well, i'd love to do a part two to this with armin, mikasa and connie, please let me know if that is something you would be interested in !!

as always, if you enjoyed, leave a like/reblog, i truly appreciate it <33

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cayofdreams · 3 years

Text

12 Nights of XXXMAS | Day 1: Breeding

Fit for a Princess

Pro-Hero!Deku x Reader

Summary: Upset at your fiance for not being able to come home on time for Christmas Eve, he makes it up to you with a gift only the likes of you could adorn. But now it’s time to fill your princess duties...

Words: 4.6k

Warnings/Tags: mirror sex, breeding, overstimulation, a dash of dumbification

Notes: uhh this was supposed to be like 2k words but then libido existed. Tagging @butterscotchbaku because their dom deku supremacy rhetoric has corrupted into my brain cells.

The view of the wintery outside was marvelous from your window. The snow painted the scenery a shimmering white, the various Christmas decorations adorning neighbor’s homes could place you directly into a wonderland, and the kids giggling and playing as they made snow angels under the street lights created the perfect picture of innocence.

Inside your home wasn’t bad either. The fire cracking at the fireplace sounded tranquil for your auditory senses, the Christmas tree in the living room gave you peaceful nostalgia from your childhood, and the smell of the sugar cookies baking in the oven was comparable to a candle from the most luxurious of department stores.

And yet, you were upset.

Or perhaps anger is the more fitting emotion dwelling over you currently. Your lover and recent fiancé, Midoriya Izuku was currently not treating you like the winter princess you deserved to be treated as. At this moment he was out doing patrols and other related hero work instead of tending to your very important needs.

What was even the point of doing all that work if his so-called ‘love of his life’ was sad, frustrated, and alone? It was easy for you to take the holidays off, granted you weren’t the #1 hero, but even still, your fiancé being in such high stature should make it easier to take days like this off, right? Surely, he was doing this to get back at you for something. After-all, he said he’d definitely be home by 4 p.m., and yet here it is closing in at 8:25 p.m, and you’ve yet to see even a text message from the man.

You even went out to get his specially crafted gift this morning so that he’d have something to look forward to on Christmas. And now you were regretting that. He didn’t deserve anything special from you after pulling a no-show on his own fiancé on Christmas Eve.

*brrrring!* *brrrring!*

“Arf! Arf! Arf!”

The sound of the timer going off alerted you of the cookies being done and temporarily brought you out of your pity session. It also alerted you and Midoriya’s one-year old puppy who was always so excited to hear when it seemed food was ready.

“Calm down, Mighty. You can’t have sugar cookies, remember? They aren’t good for you.”

Quickly wrapping an apron around your waist, you tucked on the oven mitt and carefully placed the cookies from the oven to the kitchen counter.

“Arf! Arf!”

“You are so needy, aren’t you? You look like Izu but you have my personality.” You reached into the cabinet above you to grab the dog treats you stored away. Grabbing two of the biscuits, you bent down to hand them to your puppy. “Here baby, you can have these.”

Satisfied with how happily little Mighty was chopping on the treats, you decided to wait for your own treats to cool before decorating them. Going to sit down on the couch, you grabbed the remote to flick on the television, an attempt at distracting yourself from current frustrations.

A bad decision considering everything broadcasted now seemed to deal with lovers and families coming together for the holidays. The cheery smiles and rosy cheeks on the actors’ faces made you burn with jealousy as you sat fiancé-less in your home.

“Jake! You actually…you actually came back to me for the holidays!”

“Of course, I did Katherine. I wouldn’t miss spending Christmas with you for the world.”

You sucked your teeth at the overly-dramatic displays of affection, deciding to turn off the T.V. all together. Rubbing your fingers along the bridge of your nose, it seemed even Mighty took pity on you, as he jumped on the couch to snuggle his little body into yours. Picking him up and cuddling him into your chest, you fantasized about your fiancé walking through those doors. How he’d pick you up and carry you to the bedroom, peppering kissing along your face and telling you how-

*clink!*

The sound of the door unlocking made your heart jump and Mighty to jump from your arms to run to the door, barking in excitement at who’d soon walk through.

“Heheh~ Hello little Mighty. Did you take care of Y/N while I was gone?”

“Arf! Arf! Arf!”

His tail wagged enthusiastically as Midoriya bent down to rub all around his ears. “You did? Such a good boy.” Standing back up, he looked at your figure still sitting on the couch, arms folded and lips formed into a pout. “I’m sorry I’m late, baby. Some things came up on the way home.” Putting down his gear by the door, he walked into the kitchen, immediately in amazement at the cookies you seemed to bake for him. “You made cookies? They smell so good, can we eat them now?”

Standing up, you hastily walked to the kitchen, grabbing away the pan of cookies before Midoriya could grab one. “No. They aren’t for you.” You placed the pan on the farther end on the kitchen counter, further symbolizing your statement.

Midoriya let out a small giggle, finding a bit of amusement in your bratty displays. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into him before squeezing you into a tight hug from behind. “That’s okay, you look and smell much better than those cookies anyways.” He attempted to kiss you on the cheek, but you moved your head away with a click of the tongue. “Plus, you look so delicious in that apron. I never get to see you look so much like a little housewife.”

You forcefully pulled yourself away from Midoriya’s embrace before placing folded arms once again under your breasts. “Well I’m not a housewife. Or a wife, it seems.”

Finding your comment to hit a bit below the waist, he furrowed his eyebrows at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You huffed out a puff of air, standing there briefly before brushing past him out of the kitchen. “Y/N!” Ignoring his calls, you entered the bedroom and Midoriya heard the loud shut of the door.

Deciding to give you time to calm down, Midoriya let you be as he stripped down to hop in the shower. As the hot water beat down his back, he thought about how to best analyze his current dilemma with you. He was no stranger to your more rebellious attitudes, but it seemed today you were actually pissed at him. And he could admit that you had reason to be.

This was the first holiday that the two of you were to spend together since becoming engaged. You even baked cookies for him. Wearing an apron at that. Given the amount of work you had piled up yourself throughout the year, you never really had the time to show such cute displays of love. You were probably even excited to have a couple days to play a cute housewife for him, and to you, he probably ruined that by not being home for half the day.

But you needed to understand as well. That given his position in society he couldn’t just take days off no matter how special the occasion. It didn’t matter how much previous overtime he worked, or how many villains he’d catch. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to be home with you. How badly he wanted to have you curled up in his arms, sitting by the fireplace while munching on cookies very much outside the both of yours’ diet. He wanted that just as much as you did, but what he wanted even more was to be a hero. To be your hero. And it’d take sacrifices from the both of you to continue to be that.

As Midoriya stepped out of the shower, he dried himself off with one of the fancy towels you must have recently decorated the bathroom with for the holidays. Chuckling to himself, he put on a pair of pajama pants and went to retrieve a bag that he left under his gear. As he opened the door to the master bedroom, he was met with your curled up back, the light of the phone screen illuminating your side profile.

“You know…it’s still just Christmas Eve, babe.” Midoriya approached the side of the bed, placing the small gift bag on the dresser. “We still have Christmas to spend with each other.”

Continuing to face away from him, you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. “Christmas Eve has the word ‘Christmas’ in it. So that makes it Christmas. Which means you missed Christmas, Izuku.”

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. You’re a hero yourself, so you know how demanding this life is.”

“I-…I know. I just- I just wore something so special today and it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Wore?

“Doesn’t matter anymore? There’s still a couple hours of Christmas Eve, Y/N.” His words seemed to fall on deafened ears as you stayed silently scrolling on your phone. Sighing, Midoriya pulled out a long black box from the gift bag and held it in his hand. “So, you don’t want your Christmas present?”

His lips curled into a smile at how your head perked up from the mention of a gift. “I was going to wait until the Christmas that is tomorrow but since you’re so upset, I’ll give it to you tonight.” Despite a stern exterior, Midoriya truly thought you were like a puppy. So whiney and mean until you got the treat you felt like you earned. Well today was training day.

“You got me a gift, Izu?” You straightened up to sit on the edge of the bed, curious eyes falling from his shirtless physique to the long black box in his hand. The velvety material informed you that this was no ordinary gift. “What is it?”

“Something only fit for a princess.” Your lips started to match Midoriya’s curled ones as you jumped up and got closer to him. Your hand started to reach for the box before he held away from your reach.

“I said only fit for a princess.”

“I- I am a princess! C’mon let me see it~!”

“I don’t know, Y/N. You didn’t even share any cookies with me…”

“They’re your cookies! All of them! Lemme see, lemme see!”

Midoriya continued to keep the box from your reach, finding your switching between excitement and pouting to be cute. “You said you wore something special, right? And as beautiful as you look in those pajamas, I’m sure that’s not what you were referring to.”

You fiddled with the first button on your top, your facial expression becoming more flustered. “But…I’ve been wearing it for some hours now. I probably wore out that new feel to it…”

“Good. It probably matches your smell now.”

After hesitating for a brief period, you finally undid the first button, slowly continuing to undress yourself. Midoriya watched with a quiet gaze, still clutching onto the box in hand. After unbuttoning the top, you slipped off your pajama pants before sliding off the top, fully revealing your gift to him.

“Wow…” You were wearing a dark green lingerie, specially made in order to hug you in all the right areas. Midoriya could tell by the side cut-outs on your stomach that it was designed to mimic his hero-costume. The lacy garter and its belt accentuated your waist and thighs even more than they naturally did on their own.

But the perfect icing on the cookie was simply your face. The way that even the dim bedroom light seemed to make your e/c eyes glimmer in illumination. How your pouty lips formed the perfect bow. And best of all, how despite that pout, you still seemed to look innocent to him. Most days you looked more sexy or daring. But tonight, despite such erotic attire, to Midoriya you never looked more cute.

“Do you like it…?”

Midoriya put the box down on the vanity, meeting your reply with rough hands that massaged all around your body. The little whimpers that left your lips as he squeezed softly at your laced breasts sounded like carols in his ears. “You really are a princess,… princess.”

“T-That’s what I said. Can I have my gift now…my green-haired prince?”

Midoriya chuckled as he guided you by the waist to stand directly in front of the vanity’s mirror. He hands continued to roam and squeeze around your body as he looked at your reflection. “My princess can have whatever she wants. Just let me see all of you, baby.”

You slowly took the box in your hand, firstly inspecting the exterior. The velvet felt so soft in your hands, a savory compliment with the rough caresses from your fiancé. Carefully opening it, the shimmering of the contents greeted your eyes as Midoriya’s lips greeted the tenderness of your neck.

It was a headband. But not just any headband. An elegant one; fully decorated in the most precious of diamonds. You even recognized the rare diamond cut as being the same kind as the one adorning your ring finger currently. The shine of its beauty bouncing off the dim lamp’s light brought a tear to your eye.

“I figured since you’re my princess, you deserved the finest of crowns.” Midoriya’s hands slipped down your arms to cradle your hands that were clutching tightly on the velvet box. “Should I crown you?”

You silently nodded, wiping a stray tear that streamed down your cheek. Looking into the mirror, you saw your fiancé once again embellish you with diamonds. The bejeweled headband seated snuggly around your head, you couldn’t help but feel like you were truly wearing a crown. “It’s so beautiful, Izuku…” Your eyes shifted to Midoriya’s, who was looking at your reflection with the merriest of smiles.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder before looking back at you. “Only because you’re wearing it, princess.” His hands slid down to your waist, squeezing at your laced flesh. “I think it’s only right for you to do your princess duties now, Y/N.”

You shifted your head sideways to side-eye your fiancé quizzingly. “What do you mean? What duties?”

Midoriya kissed your neck once more as he slid one hand over your lacy garter, into your panties. He slowly rolled his fingers around your folds, pleased with how you were already a little wet for him. He could thank your materialism for that. “It’s only right for you to make an heir.”

“N-No way…”

“You don’t want children with me, Y/N?”

Midoriya’s question rang through your ear as his fingers slickly circled your clit. “You want children with me?”

You felt a puff of air hit your skin as Midoriya softly chuckled at your question. “Well…It’d be a lie to say I haven’t thought of filling you up with puppies. And tonight-“ Midoriya slipped a finger inside your pussy, curving it to graze right against your g-spot. “You looked so damn cute in that apron. If I were home to see you baking cookies in that, you’d already be plump with my future children.”

Midoriya slipped another finger inside, using the pad of his hand to continue stimulating your throbbed clit. “Izu~!” His other hand slithered up to your breast, squeezing and twisting at your nipple from outside its lacy barrier.

“Look at yourself, princess.” Your eyes that had drifted to the vanity’s surface aligned back at their reflection. The headband atop your head shimmered beautifully through the mirror. “Imagine how stretched out that garter will get when your tummy swells with my kid.”

A sinful moan escaped you, the thought of having Midoriya’s children starting to lustily plague your mind. As he continued playing with your sponge like an instrument, you felt your stomach bulge with an oncoming orgasm. “I-Izuku~ ! Gonna cum!” And right on queue it seemed, Midoriya had quickly slipped his fingers out of you, your whine sounding as beautiful as your crown.

“Not yet, Y/N. I researched that its better to cum closer to when a person’s semen is ejaculating inside the womb. It increases chances of impregnation.”

Catching your breath from your failed orgasm, you bent down so your face hovered over the vanity’s surface. With your back elegantly arched, your ass pressed against the hardness of Midoriya’s cock that stood proudly inside his pajama pants. Reaching your hand behind you, you slipped your fingers under the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side. Your puffy lips looked so soft, and your drenched hole seemed to wait achingly for your fiancé to fill it. “T-Then ejaculate, you nerd~”.

Licking his lips, Midoriya freed his cock from his pants, giving it a couple jerks as he admired the view of your pussy. Noticing some of your juices were drooling onto the floor, he placed the head of his cock under you, collecting your leaking before rubbing along your folds. He teased you by poking the tip at your clit, relishing in your whine-filled moans that reverberated in his ears. “My princess is so fucking gorgeous.” He slipped the tip in, your entrance now hugging him tightly around the head. “Gonna look even more gorgeous with my child taking up all the room in that tummy.”

As he sunk his cock in, the stinging stretch of it made you impulsively tighten your walls even more around him. “Oh my god- Izuku~!” There was never a time where the thickness of Midoriya’s cock didn’t take you by a slightly painful surprise. When he was half-way in, he paused to check in after your thighs started to quiver. He noticed your lull in breathing as you held your breath in.

“Breathe, baby.” He reached his hand around your thigh to twiddle with your clit. “You need a little help? Don’t worry.” You nodded, succumbing to the onslaught of pleasure brought on by Midoriya’s fingers. “You always struggle to take my cock at first.” The sounds of your moans filled the bedroom as your stretched pussy relaxed around his cock. “But then you end up taking me- “. Feeling you grow slicker with each flick at your clit, Midoriya slowly sunk the entirety of his cock inside you. “-All the way to the hilt.”

His balls softly slapped against your clit and your walls twitched around him. With fingernails scratching against the surface, you looked behind you to meet his lustful green eyes. “You- You’re all the way in?”

He replied with a chuckle before bringing his hand toward your face, squishing your cheeks tenderly between his fingers. “That’s right. Look-“ Guiding your face to look back into the mirror, he started to gently thrust inside you. “Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. My cock fits so snug inside my princess.”

“Ohh shit~ Izuku-!” Midoriya’s increased his pace, his cock seeming to grow even more at how your silky pussy hugged around him. “You’re getting biggerrr~! Feels good!” You started to jerk your hips back to meet his thrusts, now balancing yourself on your forearms that rested on the vanity.

“Are you going to cum? Going to get your womb nice and ready for me?” Midoriya wrapped his scarred hands around the sides of your waist, squishing hard enough for your fat to plunge through his fingers. “Keep looking at your beautiful face in the mirror, Y/N. I want to see and hear you call my name when you cum.”

Midoriya pumped his cock vigilantly inside you while your pussy fluttered pleasingly around him. You looked at yourself in the mirror, in awe at how drunkenly you had become for him. The elegant band that was fit on your head was practically a juxtaposition against your lecherous facial expressions. Your mouth gaped open for delirious moans to pour out, while saliva drooled down your chin onto the vanity. Certainly no proper look for a princess you thought.

As the head of Midoriya’s cock plunged against your spongy sweet spot, your hands gripped at the edge of the vanity, desperate for stability. “Izukuuu…~”

“Go ahead, princess. Please cum for me.”

You tried to keep looking at your reflection but your eyes drifted to the back of your head as the pressure of your orgasm swelled inside your core. “I’m cumming~! Izuku! I’m cumming~!”

The feeling of your pussy convulsing around Midoriya’s cock made him grunt as he reached his own orgasm. His fingernails dug into your flesh, almost breaking skin while his thrusts became more jerky and erratic. “Fuck! Y/N- You feel so good-! Gonna cum inside you-!”

You felt the warm thickness of his cum filling you inside, his cock pulsating with every spurt. He slowly slid in and out of you as he calmed down and his grip around your waist softened. Regaining his breath, he slipped completely out of you, a bit of his cum dripping out as well. He slipped his hands under your chest to stand you up before gently gripping you behind the neck to pull you into a kiss.

The kiss was sloppy and wet as you were too in-the-clouds to pay attention where you moved your tongue. You simply whined as he sucked on the pink muscle, gripping on his bicep to maintain your balance. Midoriya lapped up the drool from your chin before licking at the inside of your mouth again.

Finally separating his lips from yours, he gave a squeeze to your ass before pushing you down on the bed. “Are you ready to be bred, princess?” He cradled his hands under your knees, pushing them up to be positioned by your breasts.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused at his question. “B-But you just came. You came inside…”

He chuckled as he rubbed the tip of cock along your folds, gathering up the drooly mix of your juices and his seeped cum. “You didn’t think one time would be enough, did you? We have to make sure you get completely filled up, Y/N. Otherwise the chances of you getting pregnant won’t be so high.”

He sunk his cock inside of you again, the new mating-like position making it so his cock aimed directly against your now tender g-spot. The oversensitivity of it make you whine loudly as your hands reactively came up to press against his abs, attempting to slow him down. “Its-! Its too sensitive right now-! Wait a second~”

Midoriya shushed you as he took one of your hands in his, placing it beside your head as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Ssshh…You’re not supposed to be bratty anymore, remember?” His balls pressed against your ass as he filled you once more all the way to the hilt. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix made a high-pitched moan leave your lips. “You took it so well before, so just do it one more time, okay?”

His hips grinded against yours as he took slow and deep thrusts inside your pussy. The feeling would have been sensual if it wasn’t for your current high levels of sensitivity. You could feel the head of his cock glide against each rib of your pussy’s walls before softly poking your cervix. The fingers that were entangled with your fiancé’s tightened with each thrust. “M-My cervix~ Too fucking big~”

Midoriya leaned down to press delicate kisses around your face, admiring how your moans were now sent directly into his ear. “I’ll be careful, okay? I can move how I want as long as I don’t hit it, right?” You nodded, a bit nervous at the foreshadowing question.

Midoriya straightened his torso, his hands finding their place back on your thighs as he put all nearly all his weight on you. Taking his cock almost entirely out of you, he quickly submerged it back inside, making sure to stop before he hit your wall. Although not reaching your cervix, he still made sure to properly grind against your g-spot, making your pussy even soppier than before.

His cock plummeting in and out of your pussy made squelching noises as the creamy mixture of your fluids spurt out on your thighs. Your hands wrapped around his forearms, fingernails scratching against the flesh. Your breathing became harsh pants as your tongue lolled out from between your lips. You feel yourself about to reach another orgasm and the throbbing of Midoriya’s cock told you he was at the same state.

“You-You’re gonna make me cum again~!”

“Me too, Princess. Are you going to take more of my cum?”

Nodding profusely, you focused on the growing bulge inside your stomach. “Y-Yeahh~!!” Bringing your hands up to his muscled shoulders, you looked euphorically into his green eyes. “Kiss me! Please~!”

Without any hesitation, Midoriya leaned down chest-to-chest, sloshing his tongue with yours. Saliva trailed down your cheeks as you mingled your fingers in his curly locks. His cock now hitting you in deeper places, your pleasure would override the kissing at your cervix. As you came around his cock, you felt once again the hot spills of Midoriya’s semen filling your womb. You moaned whinefully into his mouth as he continued to slowly thrust into you. The lubrication of his cum making his strokes slicker.

Ending the kiss, Midoriya wrapped his arms around your back, cupping your body into him as he started to pound into your pussy once more. The pleasurable feeling was too intense, making you barely able to think anymore. “F-Fuughh~!! Ijhuku!!”

“Just one more time, princess. Okay?” His thrusts now shallow and deep, you became lost in delirium as his cock relentlessly plundered into your pussy. “Wow, look- You’re feeling good even when I’m hitting your cervix, aren’t you? Taking me this deep- You’re going to be so full of my kids.”

“I-Ijhukuz babieess~!!”

“Heh~ If only we were still by the mirror, you could see how you look right now, all drunk from my cum.” He reached his thumb down circle at your clit, making your pussy clench around him in reaction. “Gosh, can you hear how mushy you are, princess? You’re so fucking soft inside. So perfect for me.”

“Guh-Guhmming~!!” Desperate to seek a break from the continuous pounding against your overstimulated sponge, you squirmed your hips around, pushing your hands against Midoriya’s shoulders in attempt to escape his grasp.

“Just hold still, okay? I’m- I’m almost there-“ Grunting behind gritted teeth, he wrapped his powerful arms around your head to further lock you in place.

“Haaahh~! Ijhuuu-!” Your thighs quaked intensively at Midoriya’s more rapid and deep thrusts as he chased his final orgasm. Pitchy and incoherent babbles filled his ears, further gratifying his desires. “Y-Yur cumm~ Sho full-! Sho full of- Ijhukuz cum~! Sho muchh~!”

“Oh fuck, princess. Your pussy and voice- Fuck! So cute-!” Midoriya’s pants became erratic and gaspy as his cock throbbed inside you. With a couple of longer and harsher strokes he finally released the last of his load inside your womb, a bit of it seeping out onto the bed from there not being much room for more.

Without slipping out of you, Midoriya straightened his back, smiling while he looked at your blissed-out face. He maneuvered your leg to the other side of his hip so that you’d be rested on your side. Laying down with his chest against your back, his hands caressed the area below your stomach, admiring how plump it became with his cum.

“I can’t wait to see how you beautiful you look in the next few months…” Peering at your side profile, he noticed you were deep in slumber. Pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, he gave a couple of gentle strokes, as if verifying that his cum was properly preserved inside you. Satisfied, he cradled his arm under your head, continuing to stroke your stomach lovingly as he closed his eyes.

“But we’ll have fun until then won’t we, princess?”

Taglist (if your name is unlinked, I was unable to tag): @bnha-free-writing @amelietheslut @waifutiddies

#deku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #pro hero!midoriya x reader #pro hero!deku x reader #midoriya smut #izuku smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #12 days of xxxmas #12 days of kinkmas #xxxmas #kinkmas #🎁 cay's xxxmas 2020

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peachycheol · 3 years

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© banner credit: thank you to the love of my life @suhdreams for making this banner for me 🥺💘 ➸ summary: when people say ‘not all men’, they’re actually right. kim mingyu, your best friend, would never disappoint you. especially not in the bedroom. ➸ genre: pwp 😌 ➸ pairing: best friend!mingyu x reader ➸ warning: dirty talk, slight dumbification, heavy petting, unprotected sex (pls use protection irl), cream pie, oral (fem. receiving), cum eating, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yn is really horny? ➸ w.c: 3.2k ➸ tags: you can all thank @risquewonu for this <333

➸ author’s note: ahh, i’m sorry this took me so long! i didn’t mean to write this much, but what the smuth wants, the smuth gets. also, i want to thank you all for 100 followers! i’ll make a separate post to properly thank you all, but i am!!! baffled!!! i really appreciate the support ;u; love you guys!

If there are two things in this world that you are absolutely certain of, they are: 1) Men ain’t shit, and 2) with the exception of Kim Mingyu. Knowing this information doesn’t really benefit you in any way. You still go out on Tinder dates that leave you high and dry 15 minutes after taking you home. And Kim Mingyu is still your very platonic best friend, who seems to be reliable in every single way except perhaps in the one way you need most desperately.

But for all you know, he could be just like every other male in bed. He couldn’t be unbelievably handsome, the most thoughtful, caring person you know, and a sex god; it just wouldn’t be fair! No, it is much easier to convince yourself that Mingyu’s perfection only extended to being a best friend, if only for your peace of mind. Otherwise, you’d have to live with the possibility that the only person who can give you sweet release is the only one you’re technically not supposed to fuck.

For reasons that seem to become annoyingly hazy every time you lie down next to him on his bed, just as you are at this moment.

The two of you often end nights out like this, scrolling through one another’s TikTok’s until the wee hours of the morning, laughing loudly until his neighbors threaten to file a noise complaint. As someone who has claimed him as your best friend for three years, you know you’re supposed to be used to the smell of the musky cologne that clings onto his sheets and the feeling of his warm body as he leans closer to show you his For You Page. But lately, it seems harder and harder to fight off the warmth that pulses straight to your core whenever he does anything as simple as laugh, making you shiver when his breath tickles the side of your neck.

God, you just really need to get laid properly. You lick your dry lips and try to remind yourself that you have no idea if Mingyu would even be able to satisfy you. Though you do have to admit you couldn’t imagine any situation where the boy isn’t overly generous and eager to please-- No! Just watch the damn TikToks!

“Hey, you good?” Mingyu suddenly asks, nudging your side. “Why aren’t you laughing? ‘His package needs to come in the fe-mail’! That one’s gold!”

You let out a snort. Leave it to Mingyu to bring you back to reality with one line. Even when you don’t say a word, he knows exactly what you need in a moment, which in this case is a reminder that he’s your very dorky friend. “Shut up, that’s so stupid,” you say, but you can’t help but laugh along with him when it replays.

“Aha, you laughed though.” Satisfied with your response he scrolls down to a video of a girl smiling suggestively into the camera. She points to the caption that says ‘If all the boys that made me cum were in my room with me right now, I would…’ Suddenly, the camera pans and she looks at the screen tiredly. The caption now read as ‘Be alone. Men are trash’.

At this, you bust out with a howl of laughter, clutching at your stomach. It was kind of sad, but it was good to know you weren’t alone in this world. All the while, Mingyu stares at you with an eyebrow raised. Once you calm down, you meet his amused gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“You thought it was that funny, huh? It’s not even that accurate,” he says teasingly.

You roll your eyes. “Um, yeah it is. I’ve never met a man who could make me cum, and clearly many other people can relate. This video has 1.4k likes!”

Mingyu quickly puts his phone down and pouts. “Nu uh! Not all guys are that incompetent!”

“Men are such babies,” you sigh. “They are that incompetent! You know how many dates I went to last semester, right? Not one of them made me cum!”

“Okay, I told you before you even went on those dates that those guys weren’t worth your time.” Mingyu waves his hand dismissively. “For your information, I have made sure that all the ladies that I’ve taken to the bedroom had at least one orgasm. At least!”

“Mingyu, sweetie,” you coo, patting his cheek as if to comfort him. “They were all faking it, because they didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Right? They all had to have faked it. You try to tell yourself this, try to reign in the last bit of sanity you have before your mind wanders off to anywhere inappropriate.

Your best friend now props himself up so that you could properly see the smirk plastered across his annoyingly chiseled features. “You’re so sure, huh? I bet I could make you cum multiple times. Easily.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. It isn’t uncommon for the two of you to taunt each other like this, but you have also never been in such a vulnerable mood. It’s the type of mood that has your heart racing impossibly fast, the type of mood that has your panties pathetically damp from just one sentence. You blink, trying to regain as much composure as you can. You know it’s too late, though; your imagination is already flashing through scenes of your deepest desires, all being fulfilled by the man in front of you. But Mingyu is only joking, so you do what you can to continue playing along and pretend like you don’t want him to just fuck you into the mattress until you were drooling into his sheets.

“I-I seriously doubt that!” you say, but there is no conviction in your voice. Clearing your throat, you try adding, “Dude, I’ve literally seen you fall down a flight of stairs when you were sober. And we were going up. Kinda hard to imagine that you’ll know how to fuck me to an orgasm when you can’t even walk right.”

Now you’re just lying through your teeth, but you want to hold off the inevitable moment that Mingyu discovers your apparent arousal for as long as possible. The last thing you need right now is for him to laugh in your face.

Mingyu chuckles, then suddenly shifts so that his arms are placed on either side of your head, trapping you underneath him. To his surprise, you do nothing to push him off like you usually do at this point. Still, he doesn’t plan on being the first to back off, so he continues his little game, intent on winning. “See, this is why you can’t find a guy who can satisfy you. You clearly don’t know what to look for.” He leans down until the tip of his nose grazes yours. For good measure, he drops his voice an octave and says, “You’ll be the one who can’t walk right when I’m done with you.”

Perplexingly, his shameless flirting doesn’t make you move as he predicted. Nor does it make you look annoyed. Instead, you look up at him with eyes that are unmistakably glazed over with something he didn’t quite expect to see: pure lust. It immediately sends a rush of blood down to his cock. He blinks. Oh. So this is where the night is going. He only falters for a moment, but he soon flashes a breathtaking smile down at you, his eyes glinting mischievously.

It isn’t like he’s never thought about it before; he had just assumed that once you started calling him your best friend, you were also lowkey telling him that sex was off the table. And it wasn’t like he minded, because he definitely liked being by your side knowing it was fully okay to be himself since you were obligated to love him regardless. Plus there was just something about you that made him want to take care of you and if being your best friend was the only way he could do it, then that had been fine by him. But now that he knows that he can take care of you in another way, in the way that he sometimes found himself yearning for on lonely nights, he is all too eager to break free of the unspoken boundaries between the two of you.

“And what am I looking for?” you whisper.

“It seems like you’re looking for me, baby,” he responds softly, before pressing a kiss where your jaw meets your neck. He slowly drags his lips down the side of your neck, and revels in how it already has you pressing your legs together. “Damn, you weren’t kidding when you said those guys didn’t make you cum, huh? Is that why you’re already so fucking worked up? You want to cum that badly?”

You nod wordlessly, not quite ready for Mingyu to hear the desperate whine that would surely leave your lips as he continues pressing wet kisses along your skin. You opt to simply thread your fingers in his hair and tug hard enough to show your impatience. It seems to trigger something in him; all in an instant, your best friend’s soft lips clash against your own, his tongue easily sliding into your mouth, all the while while his hand reaches down to grab one of your thighs. He squeezes it teasingly before pushing it outwards, which causes the mini skirt you’re wearing to bunch up around your waist, revealing your panties and how they cling to your pussy like a second skin.

“M-mingyu!” you squeak into his lips when you feel his fingers tentatively rub small circles into the wet spot. He nips at your lip harshly as he starts to rub more deliberately, the flimsy fabric of your underwear creating a delicious friction against your clit. “H-hah! Yes, o-oh my god!”

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me, baby girl,” he chuckles, but he knows he isn’t one to talk while his cock is half hard just from hearing the way you moan his name. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. You’re not leaving this room until your little pussy cums nice and hard on my cock.”

“Ngh!-- yes p-please! Please, Mingyu,” you beg mindlessly. Your eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration. Despite your best friend’s promises, you are still hesitant to hold out any hope for anything more than what you’re accustomed to, so you try to take as much as you can while it lasts. However, in your lustful daze, you had forgotten that if Kim Mingyu is anything, he is a man of his word.

You let out a high-pitched moan when his fingers suddenly grind harsh circles into your clit, more surprised than anything else that he even knew where to find it. “But first,” he says, licking his lips, “you’re going to be a good girl and cum just like this. Right into your filthy little panties. Can you do that for me, baby?”

He takes your drawn out whine as a response, and continues to rub relentlessly over your hardened clit until your legs begin to shake. That’s when he shoves the soaked material of your underwear to the side and pinches the bud. Hard.

He rolls your clit between the pads of his fingertips over and over, sending jolts of electric pleasure all the way to your toes. It causes them to curl, all the while you feel the heat simmering in your lower abdomen finally coil tighter and tighter. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you chant, the words coming out slurred like you’re a teenager who’s gotten drunk from one sip of champagne. “M-mingyu-- mmh! I t-think I’m going to--!”

A loud cry leaves your lips the moment the coil snaps, and you nearly tear up from how much better it feels to finally cum on someone else’s fingers, especially Mingyu’s long, thick digits. He soothingly slides them through your drenched folds, mesmerized by how much wetness now covered his hand. “That’s it, baby,” he encourages. Once your body slumps back into the mattress, he brings his fingers up to see how they glisten in the light. “We’ve barely even started and look at what the mess you’ve already made. You must have been waiting so long for me to fuck you, huh?”

Not even your post-orgasm buzz can keep you from getting irked by Mingyu’s cockiness, which is why you reach your own hand down to squeeze his cock through his jeans. “Seems like I’m not the only one who’s been waiting for this,” you say with a sly grin of your own. He watches you, jaw clenched, as you swiftly pop the button of his pants open and slip your fingers past the waistband of his underwear to take hold of his fully hardened member.

It feels warm and heavy in your palm, which can barely wrap around the girth. You bite your lip, your pussy greedily clenching around nothing at the thought of how good it would stretch you out.

“I should have known you’d be a fucking tease,” Mingyu rasps. His hips buck into your hand involuntarily, and his smile returns when he notices how the movement makes you whimper in anticipation.

There is a beat of silence when you and Mingyu meet eyes before the both of you begin undressing each other as fast as you can, haphazardly tugging off both your shirts, his pants, and your pesky undergarments. Once he’s tossed aside your soiled panties, he immediately presses your thighs apart to get a full view of your sopping cunt. “So pretty,” he mumbles to himself, spreading the lips apart with his fingers. His member throbs at the sight, the tip leaking precum when he sees how your pussy clenches in anticipation. “I bet it’s going to look even prettier when it’s taking my fat cock, don’t you think?”

The two of you watch in awe as Mingyu starts to sink into your entrance, a garbled moan leaving your lips when the tip alone already has you feeling so full. “Mingyu, h-how is-- ooh!-- your d-dick soo-- f-fucking big? A-Ah!” It takes a good while for you to finish your sentence as each of Mingyu’s shallow thrusts leave you gasping for air. By the time he bottoms out, the both of you are panting hard, both engrossed by how snugly his cock fits in your walls.

“Shit, if I had known you’d be this tight, I would have fucked you sooner,” Mingyu groans. He slowly drags his member out of you, letting you feel every inch of him before he surges forward into a feverish pace that already has his bed frame creaking loudly. He is definitely getting a noise complaint from his grumpy neighbors tonight. But seeing you underneath him like this, lips parted and legs spread, definitely makes it difficult to care about anything other than the desire to hear more of your needy cries. “Does it feel good, baby girl? Do you like how my cock fills your little pussy?”

“It fuh--!--ngh, feels s-soo good,” Having already came once, your sensitivity is on overload, and each rough thrust of Mingyu’s hips, each crude slap of his skin against yours, is enough to drive you closer and closer to delirium. “Mmh-- please, Mingyu! F-fuck me so deep!”

“Anything for my little cockslut.” He moves quickly to kneel between your legs, hooking his arms underneath your knees to keep them open as he continues to pound into you. The new position instantly makes you keen loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel his member brush against your cervix.

“Fuuuuck,” you sob and clutch at the sheets. His grip on your legs tightens and he angles his hips so that he hits that spot every time, rendering you completely incoherent. You want to beg him to fuck you like this forever, to tell him you’d do anything to feel his cock fuck you open every night, but you can only babble, unable to comprehend anything that isn’t the insatiable thirst burning within you.

“Damn baby, did I fuck you stupid?” Seeing you so drunk on his cock, he wonders how anyone could ever fuck you without wanting to see you cum over and over again. His hair falls over his eyes as he fucks up into you with renewed vigor, his hot skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. He grits his teeth when he feels how tightly your walls grip onto him.“Shit-- you must want me to make you cum again, baby girl. Your little pussy just keeps sucking me in.”

“H-hah, y-yes! Yes, please god, Mingyu, I want to c-cum again. P-please let me cum,” you beg, practically writhing as you pathetically attempt to meet his thrusts. Without any hesitation, Mingyu brings down his thumb and presses it into your swollen clit, causing your body to seize up suddenly. “A-Aah Mingyu! I’m--!” The intensity of your orgasm has your back arching off the mattress, head thrown back in a silent scream. Wave after wave of pleasure continuously washes over you, seemingly unending, unlike any orgasm you ever thought possible.

“That’s right baby girl, get my cock nice and wet,” Mingyu growls. He fucks you through your release as he sloppily chases his own, not too far behind with how your walls are pulsing around him. He makes sure his cock is deep inside you and stills his hips when fills you with his hot cum. “Fuck, this pussy was fucking made for me.”

Just as you think you’ve finally come down from your high, he pulls out of you and he shifts to lower himself to place his mouth on your spent pussy. “M-mingyu!”

You squirm and half-heartedly try to shove his head away, far too sensitive to have his tongue licking into your leaking entrance, but Mingyu is persistent. He pushes your legs to your chest to keep you from squeezing them close, and hums when he tastes the hot mixture of your and his own cum on his lips. The way he slurps and sucks at your folds is absolutely sinful as he eats you out like you’re the most delectable treat. It almost hurts to feel so much ecstasy at once, but it still leaves you mewling for more, unable to get enough of the boy.

Your third orgasm ripples over you when he suddenly scrapes his teeth over your abused clit, and you feel a tear slide down your cheek as you weakly shake against his mouth.

Mingyu is smiling when he pulls away, looking slightly ridiculous with how his lips still glisten with cum. You tiredly slump back into his pillows, eyes already drooping close. “What is it?”

“I told you I could do it~” he says proudly. He goes to grab some tissues from the bedside table so that he could start cleaning you up, giggling all the while. It really is unfair how he could look so cute moments after railing you into another dimension.

You groan. You’re never going to hear the end of this.

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