☆ MSSHGRKI ✩

character: gang leader!dabi

lyric credits: Silence by Marshmello ft. Khalid

Tw: 18+, mentions of death, murder, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, daddy kink (ddlg dynamic), possessiveness, attempted sexual assault, slight dumification, descriptions and use of guns, unintentional foreshadowing.

This guy must have a death wish. It was the only thing running through your mind as the broad-shouldered man stepped into your path.

You had just finished your last class of the day and were heading back to the penthouse. Normally, your boyfriend would’ve sent someone to pick you up from campus, but today was beautiful—and you had thrown on one of your infamous pouty faces, whining, “I can handle taking the train alone, please, Daddy.” You didn’t let up, even when he insisted on having at least one of his men walk with you.

He caved, like he always did when you gave him those eyes and that pout.

But he was right. He was always right. You should have listened. You should have had someone watching you.

You were on FaceTime with him—Dabi—when the man appeared in the alley. Dabi sensed something was wrong the moment your hands dropped out of frame. All he could see were a pair of wide feet standing in front of you. No words, just silence. The only sound coming through the speaker was his increasingly anxious voice:

“Doll? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

The man blocking your way made it clear he was looking for trouble. A disgusting, smug smirk spread across his face.

“One hell of a short skirt for a schoolgirl, wouldn’t ya say?”

That was all it took.

Dabi had already sent five men to your precise location. He canceled an important meeting and was halfway into his sleek black Mustang when the struggle began. Through the phone, he heard it—your panicked voice crying, “Please stop!…” and then, “Daddy!”—before the line went dead.

Ten different scenarios played out in his head, all ending the same way: death. The man who dared to touch you, dared to lay a finger on his most precious possession, was already a corpse in Dabi’s mind.

He liked to think of himself as rational. Strategic. Calculated.

But when it came to you? Rationality didn’t stand a chance.

He violated every traffic law in the city getting to you, cursing himself the entire way for letting you leave unprotected.

Within seconds, the black Mustang screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley. The sight that met him made his blood boil: your small frame pinned against the cold brick, the man’s filthy hand groping the soft curve of your ass. Tears streaked down your cheek, the other crushed against the wall. Your arms were twisted at an unnatural angle, drawing cries of pain from your throat.

Any normal person would have run the second Dabi appeared. But not you.

Yes, you were scared—but this? This kind of danger always gave you a thrill.

Dabi was already halfway down the alley, eyes locked on the scumbag who dared touch what was his. He didn’t hesitate. The man was too close—his tongue licking at your tears—but still, Dabi didn’t flinch. He pulled out his M&P M2.0 and fired a shot with deadly precision.

The blast left your ears ringing. The next thing you knew, you were falling backward, caught by one of Dabi’s men.

Dabi didn’t stop. As he approached, he emptied the rest of the clip into the man’s lifeless body. Then he pulled out his .460XVR, ready to continue the job—until your soft voice cut through the air:

“That’s enough, Daddy.”

And just like that, the rage melted from his face. He didn’t even glance at the body anymore. All he saw was you.

“Come ‘ere. Give her to me,” he said, voice quivering.

Anything involving your safety always unhinged him. You had a way of attracting chaos. He wrapped his arms around you, wiping away the specks of blood on your tear-stained cheek.

“You’re okay, doll. I gotcha,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “Shoulda listened when I said I’d pick you up.”

All you could do was smile up at him, eyes full of adoration.

“It’s alright,” you said softly. “I wasn’t even scared.”

Dabi looked down at you, unconvinced. “That so?”

You nodded. “I know you’d kill anyone who tried to hurt me.”

character: tomura shigaraki

tw!!: mentions of physical abuse, Stockholm syndrome, implied sexual abuse, punishment, swearing, toxic behavior.

You truly believe that the day he found you was the best day of your life.

You were finally free—free from that hellish lab you’d been imprisoned in since childhood. Overhaul’s twisted experiments, the sterile walls, the constant pain—it was all behind you.

What you didn’t realize was that you had only been rescued from one circle of hell, only to be thrown into a deeper one.

Even now, you don’t see Tomura as an enemy. Not even close.

To you, Tomura is your savior—the leader of the organization that pulled you from the wreckage Overhaul left behind. You looked up to him from the start. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for him. Nothing you wouldn’t sacrifice. You wouldn’t even hesitate to say you loved him.

You had been so sure that no one could be worse than Chisaki. So sure that whatever Tomura did, it could never compare.

Not the people he’s killed. Not the cold fury he unleashes when a mission—one you had nothing to do with—goes wrong. Not even when he turns that fury on you.

You loved him anyway.

Even on those nights when he’d burst into your room in a rage, destroying everything in his path with decay and raw power. Screaming at you to get the fuck up. And because you loved him—you did. You didn’t question him. Not once.

Not even when he told you to take off your clothes.

Not even when he made you lie down and “shut your fucking mouth.”

Because you loved him. Because nothing he did—nothing—was ever as bad as what Overhaul had done to you. Because even when Tomura blamed you for the heroes being on their tail, you still loved him.

No matter how many times he used you as an outlet for his anger, you still looked at him the way you did when you first met: like a light at the end of the tunnel. Like salvation.

Your savior.

Every time he hurt you, all he had to do was say one thing:

“You think I enjoy hurting you? You leave me no other choice.”

And it worked.

It never even crossed your mind that it might be an excuse. That maybe he liked the power, the control, the breaking.

No.

You believed him. Because he didn’t mean to hurt you. He loves you—he has to. He’s just carrying so much weight. So much pain.

So you convince yourself you just have to be better. Quieter. Softer.

You have to be his peace.

0.7k

MDNI

"can you hurry the hell up?" gojo questions, as you stare down at him through the little space between your chubby thighs.

"can you just—sit down" he continues his large hands are wrapped around your thighs, tugging weakly because both of you knew if he actually wanted you to sit he would've been able to make you do so easily.

but he wants you to do it.

he wants you to be the one to finally give in to the pleasure that's calling out to you, all you have to do is lower yourself a few inches and you could be seeing stars, could be experiencing all Satoru Gojo and his mouth has to offer.

he wants you to want to ride his face until his tongue was numb and he was sure the sweet scent of your slick would be seared into his skin.

and its not like you don't want to, its just you're scared.

what if you hurt him? you know you're not the skinniest and what if you get lost in pleasure and don't feel him struggling beneath you?

you were not going to be the reason Satoru Gojo died.

"baby—" gojo coos softly, pulling you out of your head and forcing you to look down at him once again. "you aren't going to kill me. and even if you did, I'd be okay with it because what guy wouldn’t want to go out with the sexiest girl in the world sitting on their face?"

you can't help the snort that falls from you, "shut up" you mumble, but it lacks its usual bite, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and biting it gently.

"i'm serious though, you aren't going to hurt me so would you please just sit down" this time he does pull you down, using a bit more force because he's getting tired of waiting. the instant your puffy folds make contact with his lips mouth he’s sticking his tongue out and letting it drag up and down your slit.

“mmph— fuck!” your hands fly to grab onto the headboard, tightly gripping it as gojo flicks his tongue back and forth against your clit. you attempt to lift yourself up, wanting to hover over his mouth rather that fully sitting down but the tight grip he has on your thighs keep you in place.

satoru closes his eyes in bliss, letting his mouth and tongue do all the work, licking and sucking and slurping at your cunt messily, as if it was the last meal he'd ever have, savoring the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

you feel your reservations slipping away, the pleasure bursting through your core is taking over your body and mind.

it doesn’t take long before you're fully sitting, subconsciously grinding your hips down on his face. once he's confident you won't try to lift yourself up again, he moves his hands from your thighs to your ass, spreading your cheeks and letting his thumb circle your fluttering hole, pushing it in and pulling it out.

the fears you once had are long gone and the only thing you can think about is how good satoru is making you feel;

the way he hums against your clit, knowing the vibrations drive you crazy. the way his tongue slips into your entrance and drags slowly across your velvety walls, fucking in and out of you as if it was his dick stretching you out instead, the familiar tightening in your tummy as your orgasm approaches all too quickly.

"fuck satoru, m'close" you warn him, still rubbing your pussy along his face and fuck he's close too. he's so hard underneath you, his cock weeping pathetically still confined by his boxers, and he's sure just a few more minutes of lapping at your cunt that he could probably cum untouched.

he brings his tongue back up to your clit and sucks on it harshly, wanting to push you over the edge so that he could do it all over again.

Imagine trying to escape an annoying ex who just will not leave you alone. And one day, around lunchtime, you’re so unlucky as to run into them in a cafe. They start badgering you about grabbing a bite together when you just blurt out “I’m actually here on a date!”

They instantly start grimacing and asking all sorts of questions about who this might be, causing you to panic. “Aah, there he is!” You desperately grab the arm of the next person to enter the cafe, hoping they’re able to read the situation and then have the decency to play along.

That random individual is no other than Satoru, who looks absolutely baffled by the abrupt encounter. His eyes darts between your ex and you, pleading with your eyes to help you out.

It takes him less than a second to make up his mind, slinging his arm over your shoulders and flashing your ex a smug grin — and then he commits wholeheartedly to the bit. He starts lying through his teeth about how much he enjoyed your last date, that he just picked up that book you recommended and he thought you might want to go to a botanical garden for your next meeting.

Eventually, your ex has had enough of the sight and leaves the cafe — you exhale deeply and relief washes over you. And once you begin to thank the stranger, he notices just how pretty you are. Kind eyes, a warm little smile that lingered after having laughed along to his performance, and a frame that simply seems to fit next to him.

The little unexpected interaction has caused you to run late. Rushing out a million little thank you’s, before pulling out your wallet. You pay for what you came for, then hand him some cash, “I’d love to pay for your lunch but I have to run. So just, take this, thank you again!” You chuckle lightly before quickly backing out of the cafe.

In your hurried haze, Satoru barely gets a word in. What really bothers him, is how he never managed to get your name before you’re out of there, and from that moment you’re stuck on his mind.