meow

“i don’t understand why you don’t want to listen to me,” he’s mumbling, angling two digits inside of you into a curved motion, fingerprints digging into the squishy flesh of your g-spot, “is it really that difficult?”

“no! stop bein’…” you trail off, words falling silent when you buck against him, cunt chasing the prodding motions of his thick fingertips, jaw dropping when he adds another chubby digit to the mix.

“what was that?” he coos, cock straining painfully hard beneath you. jaw tensed and thighs flexed, his face remains expressionless, brain far too busy processing the way your body hastily reacts to every minuscule movement he gives it.

“i said—fuck! sho! ‘m sorry, i s-said i’m sooo sorry!” you’re thrashing now. shoto’s palm begins to rub into your clit. you’re getting close again and he still doesn’t believe you.

“but are you though?” he’s questioning, tongue ticking against the roof of his mouth, head shaking, “it doesn't seem like it yet.”

shoto’s been so gentle to you. too gentle. massaging your poor little puffy clit in such soft circles your insides feel paralyzed, a calculated hand teasing you for far too long even he begins to feel bad for his sopping wet girls.

he never means to overstep, because simply put; shoto knows what’s best for you. some may chalk him up to being the overbearing boyfriend, chest heating up in embarrassment every time you have to call him before making a decision as if you couldn’t manage to do it yourself, every action and thought being run by him for approval like he’s your father.

but to him? it’s a compliment.

you come to realize it’s far easier to trust him than you can yourself these days. there’s a deep carnal sense within him to protect you, proving to you—and himself on the daily that he can be the very person you need, eternally.

shoto knows you’re getting close again by the way you go silent, eyes rolling back deep into the darkness of your mind, body like putty in his hands as your cunt begins to convulse. not so fast.

teeth bite against the lobe of your ear, breath hot. “hey, i’m sorry baby but you’re not allowed to cum—not yet.”

not yet.

it’s maddening. shoto’s fingertips effortlessly guide you to stand over the edge and right before you jump? he’s suddenly holding you back, large arms stabilizing you inches away from the relief you’re desperately chasing.

his hand pulls away, sticky fingers leaving the warmth of your walls stretched and withering, cunt clenching around nothing as it begs for forgiveness. “shoto!” crying out, you snarl, ugly crying in his lap.

if you could see him, you’d realize he’s smirking. large fingertips gently wrap around the inside of your thigh to soothe the pain that blooms from your aching core, reddened mouth kissing away the tears falling from the corners of your eyes.

“nuh-uh, listen—repeat after me,” he’s softly directing you, soaking wet hand petting the inside of your thigh, his orders continuing only when you nod your head in agreement. “i’ll always listen.”

“i’ll al-always listen.”

“because.”

“because…”

shoto places a finger back between your gushing slit, this time rubbing gentle motions into your clit. if your mind wasn’t so fuzzy, you would realize he’s spelling his name.

“because i’m the only one who looks out for you—only one who knows how to take care of you.”

“shoto—fuck!” you gasp, words stuck in your chest as you attempt to push them out, failing his test nonetheless. “y-you’re the only one! can—no! y-you’re the—you’re the only one who—”

shoto enjoys the way you’re squirming on top of him. having you docile and obedient, trying so very hard to listen to him, he can feel his heart swell, unable to hold back his grin when he shakes his head, nose nuzzling into your neck.

“no, not like that,” he hums, pulling his hand away once more, pressing soaked fingertips to your opened lips, forcing your mouth to wrap around the digits, “try again, baby.”

you love your man. literally wouldn’t change a thing about him.

seemingly rough around the edges, he’s actually just a big goofball and teddy bear all wrapped up in one man. yes, he’s tall and burly and covered in tattoos, but he can also be quite the idiot when he’s comfortable.

he values you deeply and shows that with every action. he’s always talking to and about you with deep reverence. he’s intentional and protective and just all around what you’ve always wanted out of a partner. he’s always focused on making sure you feel good with him. whether you’re by his side, under him, on top of him… his focus is making sure his princess is taken care of in all ways. free to be yourself, always secure and held down by your daddy.

he’s always so gentle. large and calloused, veiny hands softly caress, strong arms wrap around you protectively, words always praising and loving. you love that shit. you love him.

even with his sometimes cocky self, his penchant for being overprotective as hell, and his yelling at the tv when he games or watches some sport... even with his funky feet after working out and tendency to hold you captive in the mornings when you have to use the restroom really fucking bad… you just can’t help but love him, stinky toes and all. he’s your person and there’s no doubt about that.

but sometimes…

sometimes you need more. something different.

sometimes you want him to just wreck you.

like, c’mon. the man looks like he can literally throw you a good distance. his muscles bulge so attractively when he works out, and he looks so damn fine when his brow is furrowed with strain. the grunts, the harsh breaths… it takes your breath away. when he scoops you up in his arms like you don’t weigh anything– which you absolutely do– you get flashes of what it’d be like for him to just manhandle you. rough you up a bit.

is that toxic?

possibly, you think. but you can’t help but feel that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with desiring aggression from him, especially considering how safe you feel in his arms. you know that no matter what goes down in the bedroom, he loves and respects the fuck outta you. he’d never hurt his girl. that’s no question.

it seems like he’s almost afraid of it, though. whenever he finds himself particularly angry or frustrated, he demands space. he doesn’t want his words to sting and he refuses to treat you with anything less than complete respect. even when you poke and prod, tease a desire for rougher treatment, he’s quick to shut it down.

“nah, baby, you’re my princess. I ain’t doin’ you like that.”

too bad you want to be done like that. real bad, actually.

you want his hands gripping you hair or your throat, you want those big arms and rough hands holding you to him, you want his words to be firm and aggressive, that deep timbre winded with exertion. you think about it a lot. hell, you’ve even dreamed about it, subsequently waking up to make a mess of the soft sheets he buys for your sensitive skin.

it actually pisses you off. he gives you everything you want, so why not indulge your fantasies? you crave it. you’d beg for it if you knew it’d affect him, but he doesn’t even like it when you beg!

“princesses don’t beg, mama. daddy’s always gonna give you exactly what you need. you should never have to.”

it’s like wanting a deep tissue massage but the masseuse is too afraid of hurting you, or wanting extra spicy wings but only getting medium. there’s a time and a place for both, but he’s always straying on the side of caution. like, damn! you’re not going to break. you can take that shit, whatever he has to offer. you’re not asking for him to throw you off a damn cliff. even just a hand around the throat here, a harsh smack on the ass there, just a sprinkle of degradation would help. if he can’t go hard, he can be just a little bit mean!

it’s getting to be too much. it’s an itch that he refuses to scratch. you’re stubborn, you’re determined, and you’re creative.

and maybe, just maybe, a little deprived.

okay, a lot deprived.

it’s not your fault! he says you can get whatever you want, but refuses to indulge in something that you’ve grown to want the most. you’ve asked directly and pleaded and hinted, everything you can within the realm of healthy communication. call you spoiled, but you’re going to get what you want, especially because you know no matter what he says, he wants that shit too.

you see how he holds back, how he strains. you know he wants to smack that ass and snatch you up. you know he wants to correct you with more than just a warning tone, especially when you’re being particularly bratty. he wants to push you up against that damn wall, be mean, talk to you crazy just because he can and because you like it.

you see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. you see it in the way his eyes squint and how his hands grip just a little bit tighter. sometimes he looks at you like a man starved and you expect him to just break, but he never does.

he’s holding back, has been the entire time, and you hate it. it’s unfair. though you understand where he’s coming from, you need him to understand your perspective.

he just needs a little… push.

so you’re gonna shove his ass.

you’re going to a party tonight, an anime themed shindig that you’ve both really been looking forward to. you’ve got the matching outfits; you’re dressing as a fem luffy and him zoro. it’s the show you’ve been watching together to fill the time; while you smoke, while you clean, right before bed after he’s made you come for the nth time. so what’s a better couple costume than a captain and her first mate?

you already know you’ll get a lot of attention for how you’re dressed and who you’re dressed as. you’ll be taking full advantage of luffy’s personality: outgoing, comfortable with people, touchy. you’re intending to tug on every nerve of the bearded man that you can.

the plan is to tease, tease, tease until he just can’t take it. you believe with full confidence that you can take whatever he dishes out. if you can tap dance on those nerves of his enough to get him to lessen his inhibitions, you’ll absolutely fucking show him that.

and you have a feeling it’s going to work real well.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

ony’s happy.

he loves you, he loves your relationship, and he loves taking care of his princess.

he loves seeing how free you feel around him, unlimited in his protective presence. his pretty lady, spreading her wings and being her full self. sensitive, sweet, bratty, nasty. you’ve told him more times than he can count how refreshing and new it is to be in a space that allows you to fully express and explore yourself. you know he wouldn’t judge or hurt or diminish anything you’re feeling.

that just makes him all the more overprotective. you’re capable, more than, but he’s constantly looking out for you because that’s his job as your man. you’ve trusted him with everything and he doesn’t take that shit lightly. he never wants to see you sad or crying, hates when you’re upset, and would take down anybody that puts so much as a pout on that face of yours. he’s your safe place to land, your shoulder to cry on, a man that will do anything to never let you down.

so how in the fuck could he ever do or say anything to hurt you?

you’re too damn pretty to talk to any kind of way, too special to him. he’d never risk it, he couldn’t.

it sucks to look you in your eyes and tell you no, it honestly doesn’t even feel right in his fucking soul. he can do many, many things for you. he’ll eat you out just for the fun of it, tongue tracing his name on that pretty clit. he’ll slide into his bathroom at work just to talk you through your nut when you’re extra needy.

he’ll be just about anything for you. coddling? yea. overprotective? hell yea.

mean?

absolutely the fuck not.

he’s a big man and he really just doesn’t know his strength. sometimes he doesn’t realize just how strong his hold is on something until it breaks. he’ll be watching a game, on the edge of his seat and yelling at the tv, and suddenly— oops. cup’s broken. he’ll do normal reps at the gym, something slight for a warm up, and walk away from the machine just to hear, ”damn, who the fuck was lifting this??”

his mouth can get real reckless, also. he knows that when he’s angry or upset, his words bite. he wasn’t always as level headed, didn’t always count to ten before reacting to whatever. he used to talk first and think later, say what he wanted and bring down a few egos. as a man, he’s learned that his aggression can be dangerous and should be dealt with appropriately.

that’s why he just can’t bring himself to be aggressive with you. it’s his mission to tend to you, care for you, take care of the parts of you that no one else will ever see. you trust him in so many ways and he knows all of it’s foreign to you. he’d damn near kill someone just for making you break a nail, so if he hurt you… he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

however…

that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the desire to get a little rough with you.

he thinks about it a lot. what it’d be like to just… grab you. he wonders if you could take him, all of him. the rough and aggressive him. the him that would snatch you up without a second thought, make you ride him until you collapse. the him that he usually keeps very separate from his woman.

he’d do so many things to you if he let himself. he knows you say you can take it, but can you really?

would you still be fully comfortable in subspace if he was aggressive with you? would you still let those walls down, be his sweet and sensitive girl if he gagged you? bound you? or would it affect you in ways you’re not fully prepared for?

to be frank, you talk a lot of shit that you just can’t back up. you’ll run that pretty little mouth, teases on your tongue, just to be putty in his hands minutes later, or pouting at him with hurt feelings because he raised his voice even just a smidgen.

he won’t risk it.

it doesn’t matter if he wants to shove that pretty face in his mattress and tear that ass up. it doesn’t matter if he wants to make you cum more times than you think you ever could, overwhelm you with the pleasure your eyes beg for. and it definitely doesn’t matter that he wants to grab you by the neck and make you breathless, just to let you go and do it all over again.

it doesn’t matter.

you’re his baby, and he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“baby, you ready?” ony calls from the bedroom. “just a sec, pooks!” you call back. you take a moment to check yourself over in the mirror, wanting to be sure that you’re as tempting as you feel.

you’re dressed in luffy’s beast pirate outfit with a sultry feminine twist, the crop top you’re wearing keeping you from showing too much skin and shorts accentuating your form. your makeup is done to perfection, highlighting your features, and you have a straw hat resting on your back to make room for the red horns sticking out of your head of curls.

the irony of said horns is not lost on you by any means.

you used makeup to recreate the scars on his face and chest, and your skin is glowing from the scented shea butter you rubbed on your body; ony’s favorite tantalizing scent, of course. you paired it with a matching perfume just to give it an extra oomph.

with an accomplished sigh, you lock eyes with your reflection, your lips curling into a devilish little smile. you look fucking good and you smell edible. whatever happens tonight will be well deserved.

you step out of the bathroom, fully planning to give your boyfriend a tease of a show to start your plan, only to stop when you see him.

he looks downright sinful.

he’s wearing zoro’s beast pirate outfit to match yours. he’s bare of a shirt, just zoro’s signature green haramaki sash and dark green pants. his hair is tinted green from the hair wax you bought for him and he’s moisturized to a t, his dark skin glowing and tattoos looking more than lickable. his muscles are on display, accented with the harness strapped across his chest, and it takes everything in you not to just melt to the floor and suck the soul out of him right then and there, plans be damned.

“fuck, ony. you look good,” you bite your lip as your eyes trail over him. your mind is playing over the different positions you hope to be in tonight... “not fair,” you murmur.

he chuckles, focused on his phone and tapping away as he texts eren where the group will meet. “thank you, princess. don’t forget you have to do my scars. I can’t say I’m zoro without the–“ he cuts himself as he looks up at you, eyebrows raising.

his eyes trail up and down your figure, taking in the shape of your body with the form fitting clothes. you look good as hell, no surprise there. skin showing, curves accentuated, standing confident and looking like you should be on your back and spread out for him. he licks his lips and tosses his phone onto the bed before taking a few steps towards you. “…gahhh damn, baby,” he drags out.

his hands meet your hips, one trailing down to feel the smooth skin of your thigh. “shit. princess, you look fuckin’ amazing. I’ma be fightin’ niggas all night. hell,” he murmurs deep.

his gaze is hot, warming your body with his obvious attraction to you. you’re glad he loves it, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel real good. you bite the inside of your cheek as your hands trail up his torso to his chest. “damn yourself,” you mumble back. “I look good for me and for you, daddy. you know that.”

that makes him twitch in his pants. you always know just what to say to rile him up, and it’s both invigorating and irritating. he chuckles lowly and hooks his finger through the belt loop on your side, quickly turning you to press your ass up against his pelvis. his hands trail up your sides and to your chest, giving a light squeeze as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw from behind.

“mmm, fine as fuck, baby. you did so good with your outfit, maybe a little too good. I’m so tempted to just…” he leads off, hands teasingly inching towards the button of your pants. your stomach jolts, arousal ticking at his touch and voice in your ear. damn him and his deep sandalwood cologne, the ease in which he affects your body.

you gotta stay focused.

your hands find his, lightly gripping them and slowly sliding them back to your hips. it hurts to do, and your fluttering stomach isn’t helping. “nuh uh, pa, we’ve been looking forward to this for too long. sit and let me finish those scars.”

that’s interesting, to say the least. “hmm?” he hums, gripping your hips a bit, surprised at the denial. that’s not usual for you as it doesn’t take much for you to melt at his touch. it’s often him talking you down, not the other way around. there have been many events y’all have shown up to late because some touches got a bit too heated.

he’s still pressing kisses up your jaw, slow and steady. “you tellin’ me to behave? hell gotta be unusually cold.” you can’t help but laugh at that. he’s got a smart ass mouth, and you wonder what he’ll be saying by the end of the night. “I’m just excited. we look good as hell and we definitely have to take some pictures and tiktoks. put that away,” you say, patting near but not directly on the front of his pants, “and sit down.”

he hums again, eyebrow twitching with restraint. that was a low move, you know how much he loves your hands on him. touching, feeling, soothing… he just chalks it up to your touchy nature, though. he supposes you’re right, you did your thing making the costumes and the least he can do is keep his hands to himself for now. “mhm… whatever you say, captain,” he mumbles lowly.

incorrect. if it was whatever you say, you wouldn’t have to stage such a scheme.

“let me go get my makeup stuff,” you call as you walk back to the bathroom. ony plops onto the bed in waiting. when you come back, you lightly press your hand against his bare chest to direct him to lay on the bed. his eyebrows raise but he doesn’t say anything until you crawl on top of him and straddle his waist.

“‘scuse me?” he grumbles, his hands finding their place on your hips. “all this ain’t even needed.” you’ve never had to do anything like this for him before, but surely it’s not necessary for you to be pressed up against his groin like this. ain’t no way.

you roll your eyes, fully leaning into it. “relax. you’re too tall and this angle is better. now be still,” you mumble, starting to grab your brushes for the eye scar first. “close em.”

he huffs as he closes his eyes, hands inching just slightly to caress your butt as you work. your scent wafts over him as you take your time, making sure to set it properly in case he sweats throughout the night.

once the eye is done, you shuffle down his body to get to work on his next scar, not so accidentally brushing up against him as you unbuckle the harness on his chest.

“• ᥫ᭡ •” he grumbles your name. it’s a warning tone, not unlike what you’ve heard before.

“shhh.” you hush. “I’m focusing. the artist is at work.”

your tongue sticks out slightly in concentration, trying to make the scar look as realistic as possible with your meager tools. your hands lightly brush his abdomen and chest, fixing small mistakes and adding detail.

he lets out a breath, looking up to distract himself.

“you almost done? teasin’ ass.”

“hush, pa. you simply can’t rush perfection. and stop breathing so heavy.”

“s’your fuckin’ fault, princess. all up on me like this. you must want some dick before we leave or somethin’.”

“hush! your gutter brained self. don’t you usually have more self control?”

he let’s out another huff as he closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything but your hands on him. it’s damn near impossible. “sorry, baby,” he murmurs. he tries to keep his mind clear, think about ordering the uber and whatever else is needed to ensure a good time tonight.

he should make sure you eat and drink some water… and do the same for himself. you’re both late so everyone else should already be there. what else…

after adding the finishing touches, you lean to press a tender kiss to his abs, looking up at him with slightly doed eyes. he stops his train of thought, gaze immediately shooting down to watch you, eyebrow twitching and mind filling with the raunchiest thoughts.

this angle, those lips, the way your hands rest on his skin… he sees a slight twinkle in your eye and he gets a feeling tonight's going to be a long one.

“you doin’ this shit on purpose,” he almost groans. you’re just inches away from where he wants you. if you really wanted him to cool off, you wouldn’t keep doing what you know gets him going.

you roll your eyes again and pat his abdomen a couple times before sitting up and looking at your handiwork. the scar on his eye is quite simple, but the one on his chest actually looks good and detailed. shoutout youtube. a few inches below the chest scar lies your lip print, matching the lipstick you applied earlier.

“oh, relax, would you? just marking my territory. they’re gonna try to eat you up, and I refuse to let them get their grubby little hands on you. I’m all done,” you say casually, as if your possessive words won’t get a rise out of him. he squints, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. you can be quite the tease, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. he won’t call you on your shit just yet.

brat.

“whatever you want, mama.”

mhm, it sure will be. you’re determined to make that your reality.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

after many tiktoks and accidental brushes and some pregaming with eye contact a lil too much on the lustful side, you both climb into the uber. ony holds the door for you as always and joins you in the back.

the uber driver is possibly in her thirties and doesn’t speak aside from the normal greeting. the music is low and a bit boring, and she just can’t seem to keep her eyes off the mirror, taking in the obvious eye candy that is onyankopon.

on one hand, you can’t blame her. as always, he looks fine as shit doing absolutely nothing. muscles all on display, tattoos glistening with his moisturized skin, hair and beard trimmed to perfection. he’d catch the eye of damn near any seeing person, so you get it. you do.

but on the other hand, it makes your nose scrunch. yeah, he’s fine, but he’s also quite obviously yours with the way the two of you are sitting together, his arm over your shoulder and hand resting over yours.

he’s quiet but touchy. it doesn’t seem to be enough for the driver to stop stealing glances.

without another thought, you reach over and grab his chin, fingers tickled by his beard. his gaze leaves the window to look at you, but you’re already leaning out of view. leaning to press a kiss on the column of his neck. another on the sweet spot right at the end of his jaw, but this time you lightly suck on his skin, your tongue tracing against his pulse just slightly so.

soft and simple, but the action speaks louder than anything. the woman’s eyes meet the road and don’t part from it again.

and ony’s sitting at attention.

he licks his lips, watching as you sit straight. your eyes meet his, low-lidded and almost prideful. he knows what that was, he’s not stupid. the drinks have you going, if your gaze is anything to go by. you’ve already been a problem tonight, and he prays for relief from the way he’s already pressing up against his pants.

when you both arrive at the venue, you can hear distant calls of “ayeee, luffy!” and “damn, zoro got lost again!” it makes you grin cheesily and give a silly wave as you drag ony to the bar.

you seem undisturbed, but ony’s struggling. he hasn’t been able to calm down since the beginning of the night and it’s barely even started. he works his jaw, trying to diminish that ache he’s feeling in his gut. he doesn’t know what’s going on with you, maybe you’re feeling a way, but he likes it. it’s just… hard.

he focuses his mind instead on keeping you safe. there’s a lot of people here and it’s his mission for the night to make sure you have a good time without any mishaps, especially on his end.

“you gonna drink some more, baby?” you ask, fluttering your lashes up at him. you know his mind can get nasty when the liquor hits him, and you’re going to make sure it hits good.

those fluttering lashes make him feel another tug in his gut. you’re looking up, capturing him with those eyes, and he can’t help but think of them rolling back, back, back…

“just a bit, sweet girl. gotta keep an eye out for you,” he smiles down at you.

fuck, you’re so pretty. he’d do just about anything for you when you look up at him like that. your lower lip juts out in response and he feels himself twitch in his pants again.

yeah. long night for sure.

“I want you to have fun too, daddy,” you say as you wrap your arms around his neck. “you don’t have to worry about me.”

oh, you’re wrong for calling him that right here and now. he licks his lips, gazing down at you. he sees that twinkle in your eyes again and sees how your smile is almost too sickeningly sweet.

ony’s arms wrap around you and bring you close as the people at the bar start to get rowdy with the next song playing. the adjustment takes him out of it just enough for him to refocus. “I know, baby, but let daddy worry. keeps you safe,” he answers, tapping your ass a couple of times before turning to the bartender to call out his order.

you hum to yourself. you were hoping for a bigger reaction to that… he turns to you again, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “you drank that water I gave you, right?”

you roll your eyes but nod, “and ate so there’s something on my stomach. you already asked me all this, I’m fine.” he’s always like this, though you appreciate it. he keeps track of your drinks and makes sure you hydrate like a doting daddy dom should, and you’re glad that you don’t have to worry about it. all you have to focus on is having fun.

and you’re definitely focused on that.

you let out a small yelp when you feel a pinch on your butt. “attitude. you’ve rolled your eyes at me three times now. fix it, • ᥫ᭡ • ,” he corrects. he’s speaking directly in your ear, sending a slight shiver through your body.

you hadn’t even realised he was keeping count. you nibble on your bottom lip in response and nod. god, you love it when he gets like that. shit makes you tingle. “sorry. won’t do it again.”

“mhm,” ony only hums in response. he can make your eyes roll if you really want to play like that…

no, he needs to focus.

more drinks are had and you’re feeling good. ony can see it in your eyes, can feel it in your touch. drinking makes you extra touchy, especially on nights like tonight, and your words and glances are becoming more teasing by the minute.

“c’mon, love, let’s find the group,” ony says in your ear as he grabs your hand. you feel another chill travel down at the way his lips tickle the skin of your earlobe. “don’t let go of me.”

he guides you through the crowd of assorted cosplays, hand wrapped securely around yours, and it’s almost like a movie scene with the music playing and the sight of him just being him.

he’s just so fine it makes you want to jump his bones. the back muscles on this man…

he’s guiding you easily, no one able to ignore his towering stature as he pushes through. his eyes are trained ahead of you, but he’s holding you securely, thumb lightly tracing on your skin in a soothing gesture…

it’s reassuring, soft, all that you’re used to. you imagine that hand wrapped around your neck, seeing flashes of him grabbing and taking without restraint.

the plan.

right, the plan.

he peeks back at you just to check that you're good, catching sight of how your eyes trail over his figure. he shakes his head with a small smirk as he looks ahead and weaves through the crowd. his princess is just as enamored with him as he is you. it takes a lot out of him to keep from turning around to kiss those lips.

he catches sight of a familiar looking buzzed head over the crowd, his height always an advantage. “yo, con!” he calls.

the shorter man whips around, almost losing his balance as he greets the two of you. he’s wearing an orange and black volleyball jersey with the number five on it, a lazy but fitting cosplay of tanaka from haikyuu. he’s grinning widely, obviously well beyond drunk, and his arm is around his newest flavor of the month.

as you laugh at his antics and chat, ony wraps his arm around your waist. he presses you up against his side as someone squeezes past you, always vigilant of the surrounding space to ensure your safety. you hadn’t even realized someone was trying to pass. it makes your lashes flutter up at him momentarily. you hum a small sound of surprise, the sound tainted with intrigue.

he can feel your eyes and it makes him warm. there’s a tension building that feels just slightly unfamiliar, a spark in your eye that’s just… different.

the four of you chat before connie leads you all to the rest of the group, located in a reserved section.

when you reach them, the both of you are welcomed with cheers. you do a cute little spin as the girls begin to compliment your outfit, shaking your ass as you stick your tongue out playfully. you’re definitely feeling those drinks, and ony can feel his mind starting to stray again.

ony holds your hand as you move, licking his lips as he acts as an anchor for you. he wants to reach around and give that ass a nice smack, hype you up because his baby definitely knows how to throw some. he has to hold back and just grin, else he loses his manners and takes you right then and there.

you’re hypnotizing him. tempting him.

he controls himself. he can tell you’re feeling good, and that’s all he wants.

but damn your ass moves like fucking water, he realizes for the umpteenth time. it’s hard to look away, almost impossible. side to side, in a circle… shit. what was he thinking about again? something about staying focused…

his thoughts are interrupted by voices of a few others from nearby as they join in on the cheering. one girl in particular calls out ‘she throwin’ that pirate booty!’ and that seems to pique the interest of more in the area.

ony’s eyebrow twitches.

“not too much, now,” he grumbles, pulling you back to his side. you just laugh and lean up against him again, your chest pressing against him. his eyes flicker downwards for a moment, catching sight of how you look in that position.

maybe just a quick trip to the bathroom… no, he shouldn’t.

he wants to, though. wonders if you’d care about anyone hearing your sounds or if you’d just let them out like a good girl. he can see you, spread out before him, moaning and fucked out while he fulfills his fantasy of fucking you like a slut.

his gaze flicks back up to your eyes. you smile and tilt your head slightly. as if you know how much he’s struggling and you find joy in it.

and you do. you can see it in his eyes, that desire. he’s buzzed, though he doesn’t really show it. his eyes are a bit distant, and you can tell his mind is filled with those thoughts you crave for him to act on. he’s not looking at you like his princess right now and you want him to step out on that.

he’s saved, once again. if there’s one thing sasha can’t do, it’s read a room.

you have to keep from rolling your eyes as she starts on about how grateful she is for everyone being together, ever the sentimental drunk. you love her down, but this happens every time she gets even a sip of liquor.

she demands pictures for memories, something about scrapbooking and showing the kids in the future, before she asks a random person to act as photographer. everyone lines up best they can, choosing their best angles. ony sticks close to you, hands almost glued to your ass. picture after picture, silly photos and serious photos. soon complaints start flying at sasha’s demands for different poses.

the group is able to break free after a few more pictures, and soon everyone is chatting, dancing, and vibing. it really is a nice party, definitely worth the hype, and worth the wait as well. most went all out on their outfits, the dj knows what the hell she’s doing, and the amount of wallflowers is surprisingly low.

the group is having a lot of fun, which isn’t exactly surprising as you all can have fun anywhere, especially with the drinks flowing. there’s so much laughing, so many candid photos that’ll be saved and used as blackmail… but no matter how much fun is going down, you’re still distracted by every move your man makes. it’s the same for him too.

his hands don’t leave you for longer than a minute. he’s constantly touching, caressing, looking at you like he wants to do any number of things to you, and you’re right there with him. whispering in his ear, pressing up against him, giving him those eyes. your friends are side eyeing and laughing, knowing that you both will probably be “excusing” yourselves soon.

it feels like it’s just the two of you, glued to each other as you both dance the night away, parting only for more drinks. you do moves that ony’s never seen you do before, guiding his hands all over you and looking him in the eye as a silent message of ”this is all yours”.

but despite everything, he hasn’t broken yet, no matter how close he’s come time and time again. it’s frustrating to you from the outside looking in. his self control is astounding to an irritating degree and it’s you who’s starting to get worked up beyond the point of return.

but ony’s definitely on the brink.

“fuck. drivin’ me crazy,” he groans, head falling to rest against your shoulder. he’s not sure how he’s still standing. he should’ve taken you home so long ago with the way you keep tempting him like he won’t do anything about it. “you look so fuckin’ good. keep doin’ yo’ shit, ma.”

“yeah?” you ask, reaching back to pull him close. his ear is by your mouth, so you press a kiss to his skin, tongue darting out to tease. it sends a chill down ony’s spine and straight to his dick.

“yeah, baby. too damn perfect,” he breathes out. he runs the tip of his nose up your neck, that damn scent making him want to devour you. he’s gripping you tighter, breathing you in deep.

you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. you laugh, turning in his arms to hook your own around his neck. “and all yours, yeah?” his hands slide down to your bum, giving a nice squeeze.

“all fuckin’ mine,” he murmurs, eyes low as his gaze meets yours.

you nibble on your lip. he just looks so good… the look in his eyes, the way he’s gazing at you like he could take you up against the wall right now has you flooding your underwear. it’s almost too much and the way his hands squeeze and pull you closer like you weigh nothing is only making it worse.

you don’t know what possesses you to say what you say next, maybe it’s the alcohol or the audacity or the combination of both, but you pull him closer by his nape and whisper in his ear.

“so why do you keep fucking me like you’re scared?”

ony pauses.

he must be hearing things. maybe the music is too loud or you mixed up your words because there’s no way you just said that shit.

it’s almost like you can feel the temperature drop.

“repeat that,” he grumbles assertively. you shudder just slightly at his cold tone, but you don’t falter.

“you heard me,” you shrug. “you fuck like you’re scared. you shouldn’t be surprised to hear that.” and you really think he shouldn’t. isn’t this what it’s all been about? his fear of hurting you? it’s not a lie. he is scared.

but it’s all in your delivery. you’re making him sound like a punk and he doesn’t like that.

he doesn’t like how you’re shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, he doesn’t like how you’re disrespecting your daddy, and he definitely doesn’t like how you seem to think you’re on some type of higher ground.

“come to the bathroom real quick,” he mumbles. he grabs your wrist— firm, not tight— and starts to guide you.

you smile and bite your lip as he tugs you forward. “did I say something wrong?” you ask, your voice a slight purr as you press yourself against him. one of your hands trails up his arm, sending tingles up his skin and down to his hopefully well hidden hard on. your touch is slow and teasing, and your nails scratch him just enough, the way you know he likes.

you wish you could use your tongue instead, trace those tattoos all the way to that third leg of his. have him looking down at you and calling you just what you are— pretty, desperate, nasty. just for him.

he looks down at you with a raised brow, almost irritated with the way he keeps fucking twitching in his pants and definitely irritated with whatever the fuck you have going on. “chill.”

ony’s jaw is set at your touch as he continues walking. your gaze, your hands, your teasing… it’s all too much. he doesn’t know what it is, the tequila maybe?

no, you’ve been on one all fucking night.

he doesn’t get it, but it’s gotten to him. he wonders if it would really be that bad if he bent you over in the stall and just…

the two of you finally find a family bathroom towards the back of the venue. ony holds the door open for you, follows you inside, and locks the door behind him.

“you upset or somethin—“

“what’s goin’ on with you? huh?” he grumbles out, hooking his finger through your harness and pulling you against him. you gasp as your hands fly to rest on his shoulders for balance.

“what—“ you try to speak, only to be interrupted by him again. his tone is stern, no room for bullshit. he’s been tempted and teased and drawn to an edge he hasn’t had to endure with you before.

“don’t even try to play wit’ me. whatchu doin’?” he asks.

you swallow, looking up at him and taking in his unfamiliar demeanor. his eyes are serious, eyebrows pinched in an irritated frown that makes your knees weak. “I’m not- I just wanted to have fun tonight, that’s all,” you answer.

his eyebrow twitches and he takes a moment to take a breath, staring you down. “that’s all,” he repeats dully.

and then his hand slides up from your harness, wrapping around your jaw as the other grips your hip. he holds your face in place firmly, bending slightly to hover above you. the look in his eyes… your heart is racing and he can probably feel your pulse, but something else is pulsing between your legs.

“you think I’m stupid? that what you think?” he asks. his voice is almost soft, but not in the tender way you’re used to. “I’ma be nice and give you a second chance cause I love yo’ ass. don’t lie to my face again.”

despite the obvious predicament, you’re feeling pretty good about yourself. this is what you wanted, what you asked for, what you knew he wanted and it feels so damn good. just like you knew it would.

“trying to get you to stop holding back,” you mumble truthfully.

he pauses again.

you’ve gotta be fucking kidding. here he is trying to have a good night with his girl, keeping an eye on you so that you can have a fun ass time without worry, and the whole time you’ve been playing little games.

ony hates games.

“that’s why you been out here like this the whole fuckin’ night?” he asks in a grumble, his hand tightening its grip just slightly. “pushin’ up on me, teasin me, actin’ like I don’t love you and give you everything, being a damn brat? my good girl? can’t be. you know better than that, ain’t never done shit like that.”

your breath hitches, but you keep going. “you don’t get it,” you speak up. “the fact that I had to do this in the first place is your fault. I asked and tried to talk, but you weren’t listening!”

“watch yo’ tone,” he immediately mumbles. his hand slides down from your jaw to your neck and gives a squeeze.

a reminder. he can only allow so much.

you roll your eyes. “you have to admit I’m right!” you stubbornly press. this is your chance to air your grievances, you have to get it all out. “you want this, I know you do. you hold back too much and it’s not fair. if you ever found out I wasn’t all in, you’d be upset just like me! I don’t understand why you can’t just—“

you’re interrupted by his lips as he kisses you. really kisses you.

it’s not the usual slow and sensual kiss, the ones packed with love and intention. it’s messy and rushed, his hand sliding from your hip to the curls at your nape and gripping. your eyes roll back just slightly at the feeling. it’s overpowering, it’s knee-weakening, it’s raw. it’s everything you wanted.

he controls the kiss, he bites, and his hand never leaves your neck. you don’t even realize that you’re moving back and back until you’re pressed up against the wall, closed in by his larger frame.

he pulls back, holding you in place by your hair. this is what you’ve been craving, and it’s so delectable now that you’re getting it. it’s a whole new ony, rough and demanding in his movements. you’re just about putty in his hands.

“damn,” you breathe out, trying to gather yourself.

it’s ridiculous. ony blames himself for his regretful decision of controlling his more aggressive urges. you obviously want it more than he thought, need it if your brattiness is any indication.

the fact that you’d go so far as to play him, try to control him? it’s pissing him off. you’re a good girl. this isn’t what you do.

he’s got something for your ass.

“we’re going home,” he grumbles lowly.

and home you go.

the two of you leave the bathroom, ony’s back tense as he leads and weaves through the crowd. a particular group won’t move even after a couple of excuse me’s from him. they just look at him and then away dismissively as if they’re not blocking the walkway. rude as fuck, to be honest.

ony raises his voice with a lift of his eyebrows. he doesn’t have time for this. “I know y’all fuckin’ heard me. move,” he demands. the looks you receive in return are hilarious, looking a mix of offended, humbled, and maybe a little afraid. the group starts stepping to the side as ony stares them down.

it’s such a fucking turn on.

the journey outside is all a blur. ony hasn’t said a single word to you. he said farewells to the group and guided you to the uber. his touches haven’t stopped, but his gaze is set on the window. his jaw is tight and his grip on you is firm.

the uber back is quiet. the driver has a car on the smaller side, so ony’s almost to the point of having to scrunch himself just to fit. he knew he should’ve ordered a different one, but it would’ve taken too long. he’s sitting leaned against the window, his long legs to the side for comfort because they wouldn’t fit otherwise.

your legs are almost thrown over his. one of his arms is wrapped around your shoulder and the other hand is wrapped around your ankle, thumb lightly tracing over the anklet he bought you.

you’re sitting, fiddling with your fingers.

you’re excited. you’re going to get what you want, what you’ve been needing, and you can say that the night is going according to plan. maybe even better. you have no idea what the night entails, but you’re looking forward to every moment.

the tension is so delicious. the look in his eye, the way he kissed you… you’ve never seen him like this, felt him like this. it’s invigorating and it’s hard to feel bad for your antics. you tried to talk, you did. but tonight happened and apparently it was needed.

there’s just… an inkling, a very small one, that says you have no idea what you’re about to go through.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

visual. visual. visual. visual.

ony crosses his arms as he looks at you, admiring your form and your nerve. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, bare just for him, eyes holding a glint of smugness as you look up.

you’re proud of yourself, ego probably on ten. you don’t even have the decency to look apologetic. instead you’re watching, waiting like you’re entitled to a treat after your little game. your bratty, irritating game of pushing a man who isn’t usually pushed.

his sweet girl… not even aware of the consequences you’re about to endure. he has ways of humbling you. since you’ve been acting how you’re acting, he’ll give you exactly what it is your ass wants.

your gaze trails over his form and he just stands there letting you watch for a moment. his muscles bulge, his chest and arms on display. he’s got that stone face that’s never been directed to you, his tight jaw and twitching eyebrow the only indication of how he’s feeling.

“• ᥫ᭡ •,” he says lowly, getting your attention. your eyes meet his, your breath hitching. his eyes flicker over you again and you can just feel the tension thick in the air. his gaze holds so much fire, body tense and mind obviously racing.

it feels almost illegal to speak up, like the wrong words will set him off and make him snap. that’s what you’ve wanted, of course, but the atmosphere is much different when you’re actually in it. “yes?” you ask quietly. he’s silent for a moment, and then he speaks up.

“I hope you can handle what I’ma do to yo’ lil ass tonight.”

that makes your stomach jump as you nibble on your bottom lip. you sit there for a moment, a mix of excitement and arousal coursing through you. just what’s going to go down? this is uncharted territory. you don’t know what to expect.

you know one thing, though.

you won.

“I can, daddy,” you murmur softly, eyes so pretty as they look up at him. you look so sweet, like you didn’t toy with him like a fucking yo-yo tonight. he’ll make sure to do the same with you since you’re so needy for it.

“mhm, sure,” he grumbles dismissively. you don’t know shit about how he can get because you’ve never seen it. pride is a muhfucka. he reaches down and hooks a finger under your chin, lifting it. his touch makes your skin tingle. “remind me of your safeword, babygirl,” he says.

you clear your throat. “um- pineapple,” you answer.

“and your colors?”

“green is keep going, yellow is slow down or pause, red is stop,” you recite.

“good girl,” he mumbles, looking down at you. he’s still watching you like a hawk. the angle is everything. you’re fighting the urge to reach and run a hand up his abdomen, follow your touch with your tongue. something tells you touching isn’t a great idea at the moment though.

“you have to tell me if I say or do anything, anything that makes you feel some type of way. promise me, baby,” he presses. he lightly trails his thumb over your cheek, looking down at you with clouded eyes.

his voice gives you goosebumps. it’s a mix of commanding and gentle, and you feel as though this is the last sliver of tenderness you’ll see before you get your sense fucked out of you. “I promise, daddy,” you nod.

“good girl,” he rasps. he really hopes you listen because he won’t be holding back, per your request. it’s about to get really tough for you, and you did it to yourself.

his hand moves down, wrapping around your neck in a pressing grip. you feel your stomach jolt and you lick your lips as you stare up into his eyes, watching the tenderness shift just as quickly as it appeared.

“you know I’m pissed the fuck off, right?” he frowns. his eyebrows pinch together and his hand tightens around your neck. “scared,” he states. “I fuck you like I’m scared. that’s what you said.”

his voice is rough, an insight to how the night will be, and his gaze is burning. maybe you shouldn’t have said that… but it’s landed you right where you want to be. you swallow and start to answer respond, but he interrupts you. there’s nothing you could say right now to calm him down.

“nah, don’t even say shit, just gone piss me off even more,” he scoffs, his hand squeezing your neck. he steps closer, standing between your legs now. “you got a lot of fuckin’ nerve, baby. that’s okay. daddy’s gonna get you straight.”

in a flash, you’re pulled up to your feet and damn near dropped onto the ground. you let out a soft ’oof’ as you land on your knees, ony holding you by your arms. it’s so unlike him that you’re blinking in shock.

“look at me, lil girl,” he grunts, his hand sliding into your curls to grip them and tug you to look up at him. your eyebrows furrow— you’re grown, nowhere near little, but the look on his face keeps you from saying anything.

“what, youn like that? don’t like hearin’ bout yourself?” he grumbles, eyebrows pinching as he notices your shift in expression. he couldn’t care less. you were acting childish, playing your games and pushing him to do you like this.

you frown in response, feeling an attitude coming up quickly. it’s not like you didn’t try to handle it properly, he’s the one that refused to listen with his fine, stubborn ass. you go to say something, but he tugs you closer by your hair, bringing you to his pelvis.

“shut the fuck up. ion wanna hear fuck else from you unless you slobbin’ on my dick,” he fusses and jesus, mary, and joseph— that shouldn’t have made your core coil in the way that it does.

well, shit. you do exactly what he says.

you bite your lip as you look up at him, pulling his boxers down to reveal the second love of your life: ony’s big fat fucking dick. it’s long and it’s thick and it’s heavy— absolutely nothing to play with or about. his size and girth would be the source of many people’s dreams or nightmares, depending.

you press open mouthed kisses down his length as you breathe heavy, his hand clenching your hair. you make sure to look him deep in his eyes as you trail your tongue back up, from his balls to his tip. ony groans as he watches you.

you look so good like this, bratty mouth occupied and eyes on his, doing exactly what the fuck he told you. “open,” he grunts. your tongue immediately sticks out, mouth open wide, and ony takes the opportunity to drop spit from his mouth to yours.

“now get to work,” he demands.

it sends chills down your spine, his gaze unmoving as he watches his favorite fucking show. you start slow, spitting on him to act as a lazy lube, sucking his head into your mouth. you hum as you taste him, tongue swirling over his length. you make sure it’s nice and wet before your head starts to bob as you take more and more of him into your mouth, using your hands to pump the rest.

until he reaches down and pushes them off.

”nah, fuck that. no hands, mama, gimme that,” he grunts.

so damn sexy.

you do what he says, resting your hands on his waist as you take more of him into your mouth. he huffs out a breath, still looking at you with furrowed brows. “yeah, fuck. sexy ass,” he encourages. “better suck me off better than you ever have. I deserve that shit, dealin’ with yo’ bratty ass.”

you whimper around him, spit and pre building up more and more and making everything so sloppy. you take him deeper and deeper, giving him what you think to be your best. ony’s groaning, grip tightening on your hair as he starts to feel that shit in his fucking toes.

“yeah, eat that dick up. way better use for that mouth than whatever bullshit you was spittin’ earlier,” he groans. he licks his lips as his head falls back, breath deepening and shuddering at the feel of your mouth. he can hear the slick, slurping sounds coming from you and it’s damn near heaven.

he looks down again, noticing what he considers to be a half-assed attempt at taking him all the way. “quit playin’ wit me like I won’t fuck this pretty face,” he grunts, using his grip on your hair to pull you further down his length. “swallow that shit. you can do better than that. show out like you been doin’ all damn night. speed up.”

you whine around him, your pussy clenching at his words. fuck, you’re loving this. it’s everything you’ve been wanting. on your knees, ony dominating you like he should’ve always been. you bob your head faster, bubbles forming as everything becomes sloppier and sloppier, your tongue tracing under his cock. you feel a light smack on your cheek and your eyes focus on his again, blinking in surprise.

“you ain’t doin’ shit forreal. let daddy take that,” he grunts. both of his hands are on your head now, and he’s stepping forward more and more until your back meets the edge of the bed. he starts to work his hips, groaning and moaning in such a delicious tone that it makes your wetness drip down your thighs.

“fuck. too fucking good, baby,” he groans. you’re gagging a bit, hands gripping his thighs as he thrusts harder and harder. “daddy loves this shit. love making you choke on me,” he pants. “I been missin’ out, huh? treatin’ you like you too pretty to gag on this big” thrust “fuckin’” thrust “dick.” thrust.

you’re so turned on, you think you might burst. you’re gagging now, choking, so you smack his thigh a few times, tapping out. he pulls you back by your hair and you gasp for air, coughing and digging your nails in his skin as you try to gather yourself.

“color,” ony grunts. you can’t really hear him, too focused on trying to get your shit together. “huh?” you choke out, still catching your breath. your head’s almost spinning, not just from the loss of air, but from this whole damn demeanor ony has.

“what’s your color, baby?” he asks, pulling you by your hair to look up at him. and, ah, there it is, just a sprinkle of concern mixed in with the frustration. his eyes are sweeping over you, wondering if you’re okay and if he can keep going. always so considerate of you, even when he’s pissed off beyond compare.

“fucking green,” you huff, wiping your face. you’re practically on cloud nine and it has you wondering if you really are toxic, but you can’t think about all of that when your fine ass, monster dicked boyfriend is standing in front of you looking like that. your pussy’s been working overtime purring.

ony licks his lips as he watches you. it’s obvious you’re enjoying this, and he is too. there’s something about making a mess of you that makes him want to do this shit morning, noon, and night. maybe your lil ass was right, maybe he was scared.

not anymore though.

“love your stubborn ass. need to do that more often. get up and come ride what’s yours. wanna see that ass bounce,” he rumbles. he pulls the chair by the foot of the bed closer with ease and sits on the edge of the bed. “c’mon. I’m puttin’ yo ass to work.”

sheesh. you can’t believe you’ve gone so long without this, his whole, uninhibited self making your mouth water. you take a breath before pushing yourself up to stand. you throw your leg over his lap, giving him a marvelous view of your ass, and he takes the chance to smack it hard enough to sting.

“my lil slut. come put it on me, since you bad,” he mumbles. he’s once again hypnotized, always obsessed with his girl’s ass because it’s his. he’ll make sure it’s red and raw by the end of the night,

you feel him guide you into the position he wants, his usually soft and gentle touch aggressive. he maneuvers you so easily, whipping you into place like he’s just moving a pillow or something. another smack to your ass makes you moan, but his fingers playing with your pussy make you squeal.

“gotta getchu ready for me, pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip as he watches his fingers play in your homemade water park. “always so wet for me, baby, but you’re drenched tonight. you like when daddy treats you like this, huh?” he asks, almost amazed.

you whine a moan when you feel his fingers press and swirl against your clit, the digits drowning in your wetness. his other hand comes down to your other cheek, whacking your ass with vigor. “that wasn’t rhetorical,” he grumbles.

“yes, daddy, I love it,” you whine, your hips pushing back for more of his attention on your sensitive core. he smacks your ass again, again, and again, watching it jiggle and move at his touch. you’re whining and wriggling on the seat, but you let out a nasty moan when you feel his fingers slip inside.

“fuuuck,” you moan, clenching around his fingers. he’s moving expertly, fingers curling just how you like it. when he leans to add his tongue to the mix, tracing ‘o’ ‘n’ ‘y’ over and over again, your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling of his beard.

“mhm,” ony encourages, backing away enough to get a full view of your backside. “gonna fuck this pretty, messy pussy out the frame tonight. throw it back, lemme get a sneak peak of how you gonna take daddy’s big ass dick.”

“yes, sir,” you whine, starting to move your hips and ride his long, thick fingers. it feels so damn good, you can feel your mind slipping away and getting all fuzzy-like. your hand raises to grab your boob, squeezing and massaging it as you throw your head back.

“ohhh, it’s like that, huh? that’s a new one,” ony coos mockingly, having never heard you refer to him as such. he’s aching to reach and relieve himself if only slightly, but he can’t tear his hands away from your body for anything. “you actin’ like you respect me or some. guess I gotta treat you like this so you don’t play games in my face, huh? made me feel like a punk.”

you wish you can say you’re sorry, you really do, but with the way the night’s going? you’ll never regret this shit.

ever.

“j-just wanted all of you, daddy,” you moan, your head dipping forward as you continue to ride his fingers. his other hand slips from your ass to between your legs, starting to rub against your clit. your toes curl and another whine escapes you. “I don’t regret it, either,” you pant.

“oh, you don’t?” ony laughs. it’s almost sinister, a little too cocky and not even offended. he knows you’ll be fucked out by the end of all of this, there’s no doubt in his mind. he lands another spank to your ass, pulling his other hand away to lick it clean. “night’s still so young, sweetheart. don’t let your mouth write checks yo’ lil ass can’t cash.”

you whimper at the loss of his fingers, but you’re not wanting for long. you feel him slap his dick against your ass, obviously enamored. “just fuck me, damn,” you huff, reaching back to pump him a couple times. he groans at your touch, face scrunching because you know just how to work him.

“I need to shut you up again? cause I swear I can,” he grunts. he grabs the hand you have on him and pins it to your back before grabbing himself, lining up with your beautiful pussy, and pushing in. the sounds that both of you make should go in the hall of fame, both of you so worked up.

“ahh, ony,” you moan. he feels unreal, making himself at home in your guts. it’s got you clenching the chair with a death grip as you adjust to his size, his shallow thrusts digging into you slowly. “so big, daddy. love that dick,” you whimper.

“so why I’m doin’ the work? told yo’ ass to ride me. c’mon, mama, put on a show for your man,” he says breathlessly. he’s never been one to pretend your pussy doesn’t make him weak. he’s breathless, drowning in your perfect flower.

when you start to work your hips slowly, he has to lean back on one of his hands as he groans and rolls his eyes back. you grip him so perfectly and take him so damn well, he’s so sure there’s no better place to be than right here in you. he reaches to grab a handful of that ass and squeezes.

“so good,” you moan, moving your hips slowly as you settle into the best position you can. “daddy, you’re so perfect,” you groan, looking over your shoulder to lock eyes with him. you swear you can feel him jump within you.

he loves when you praise him back, telling him he’s in your guts or fucking you better than any man ever could. you’re looking at him with a gorgeous mix of love and lust in your eyes and it makes ony’s heart squeeze in his chest. he loves you so fucking much.

both of your breathing is deep now, lips bitten and licked in arousal and eyes low. he sits up and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you back to suck your tongue into his mouth. the kiss is sloppy and wet, and both of you can taste yourselves on the other’s tongue. you whine into the kiss as his hand wraps around the front of your neck to give a firm squeeze.

ony pulls back with a huff, his hand moving from your neck to smack your ass again. it stings so perfectly. “so why you make me out to be a punk, huh?” he asks. he can feel himself getting frustrated all over again just thinking about it. scared. he’ll show you scared. “playin in my face like that. girl, I’ll fuck yo’ pussy up. throw that ass on me before I get pissed off again.”

“anything for you, daddy,” you breathe out. “anything for you.” you start to pick up your pace, and soon you’re bouncing, bouncing, bouncing on ony’s perfect dick. he’s reaching places no one’s ever been and no one’s ever gonna be if you have any say. your moans are loud and you’re showing the fuck out.

ony’s in heaven, he’s sure of it. the way you’re gripping him, taking him so deep, the way you moan and whine for him, the perfect view he has of your reddening ass sore from his spanks… he wants to let his head fall back from the pleasure but he just can’t look away from you. you’re perfect.

“fuck, yeah, baby, take that dick. s’all yours, mama,” he groans. he can’t help but praise you, even if he’s still mad. the way you’re riding him is just undeniably, toe curlingly out of this damn world. “fuck, you workin’ me so good. ass so perfect, pussy just immaculate. keep goin’. keep fuckin’ goin.”

you whine, his words going straight to your core. your man is just everything, it’s so easy to lose yourself in him and give him the show you know he wants. he makes you feel like a fucking star. you let your head fall back, curls bouncing with each shift of your body as you reach between your legs and work your clit.

“gonna cuuum,” you whine, clenching around him. “holy fuck, ony! daddy, m’gonna—“

“push that shit out,” he grunts. it’s taking everything in him not to cum. he’s nowhere near done with you, so he reaches down to hold his base and stave off his orgasm for now. “let it go, baby. you worked hard for it. c’mon, wet daddy’s dick like only you can,” he encourages breathlessly.

it doesn’t take much longer before you’re doing exactly that, moaning his name so loud you wonder if people can hear you miles away. your hand is working yourself fast, clenching and squirting as your release washes over you in wave after wave. you pant and moan as you feel ony’s soothing hand rub up and down your back.

he leans forward to press kisses all over you. your back, your shoulders, your arms, your cheek, and finally your lips. you melt into his touch as you bask in the aftermath of your orgasm. “yeah, baby. did so fuckin’ good for daddy,” he murmurs in your ear. you hum softly, eyes closed as you just float.

you feel ony shifting, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you into his lap. he maneuvers your jelly-like body to rest against his chest. he’s careful as he lies back on the bed, rubbing your back as you curl up against him and nuzzle into his neck. his scent washes over you, comforting even if sweaty, and you let out a soft sigh,

you take some time to cool down, catching your breath and letting your body calm. ony’s hands are on you the entire time, soothing and caressing every part of you. he kisses your forehead and murmurs in your ear calmly, “take a break, babygirl. but I ain’t done with you.”

…pardon?

your eyes fly open at that.

“huh?” you ask, looking up at him like he’s insane. “are you kidding? I’m exhausted,” you rasp. and you really are. your legs and hips are sore like you just worked out, you feel all fucked out and sweaty and ready to roll over and go to bed.

ony chuckles, still rubbing your back. you’re funny if you think he’s letting you off that easy. his hand slides down to caress your ass, squeezing it. it’s sore from all that damn smacking he did. “you thought that’s all I was gonna do? nah, baby. hell no.”

you weakly raise up on your arms, looking at him incredulously. you’re met with a very serious look in his eye that actually kind of concerns you. he looks smug as he utters his next words. “I ain’t even come yet.”

your jaw drops. “what? there’s no way-“ you attempt to turn and look, not believing his ass. you just gave a five star show and he didn’t come? that’s almost offensive. ony grabs your chin and turns your face to look at him. his smile is gone, eyes looking fiery once again.

“what’s your color?”

you blink. and then you blink again. “you’re joking,” you say. but with the look in his eyes, you know he’s not. ony’s head tilts. “I told you, you asked for this. I asked if you can handle it, and you said ‘I can, daddy,’” he says, mocking your voice just slightly. “so, again, I ask: what’s your color?”

you stare at him for a moment, wondering if he’ll say ‘sike, let’s go to bed’ or laugh after a few seconds, but he doesn’t. he meets your stare with confidence, gaze never faltering. is this man insane? you wonder briefly. but there’s no way you’ll let him win or mock you. he’s right, you did ask for this and you did say you can handle it. what’s another round?

“green,” you answer firmly. you can do this, you can handle him. he’s always been so soft with you, and he’s probably tired as well, so there can’t be much else. you’re confident that you can show him just who the fuck you are.

a smile slowly crawls onto ony’s face in response. you have no idea that you’re flying right into the sun,

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

you fucked up. there’s really no other way to put it.

who would’ve guessed?

you don’t know how long it’s been or how many orgasms you’ve endured, but ony’s still going. your ass is sore from spanking, voice raspy from moaning, and you’re a mess of sweat and cum.

“daddyyyy,” you whine, your head held back by your curls as ony drills into you from below. you’re on top of him, straddling him as you lean forward on your tired arms. ony’s got a firm grip on your hair, holding you to bare your neck as he kisses and sucks and bites marks into your skin.

“shut up and take this dick,” he grunts. “told yo’ ass not to play with me. this where that shit gets you.” he’s like an animal used to captivity out in the wild for the first time in years. you’re getting so much energy from him that’s been backed up for so long, and ony just can’t stop.

“s’too much, papa, fuck, I can’t take it,” you whimper. tears are falling from a mixture of pleasure and overwhelm, your body weak from so much exertion. but it’s still so fucking good, you’ve basically just given yourself over to him to do whatever he wants.

“you know your safeword,” he huffs. every orgasm, every time you need a break, he asks you your color, and every time it’s green. he’s keeping a close eye on you despite his feral demeanor, and he can tell that you’re not done yet. he trusts you’d use your safeword even if he couldn’t tell that you reached your limit.

“you made me do this, so you deal with it. you wanna tap out, tap out. I ain’t stoppin till I’m done,” he grunts. you feel so fucking good and you’re taking all of him so well. you’re still coming, still so damn wet and responding perfectly. those tears down your face only get him going more and more because he knows he’s fucking you good.

he brings your face to his, kissing you deeply once again. one of his hands moves to grip your thigh as his tongue swirls around yours. he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling and making sounds from the aggressive kiss. he releases you once again and gets back to business.

he bucks up into you like you owe him money or something, digging into his pussy. you hiccup, eyes closing tight as you clench around him for the nth time. “fuck, fuck, fuck, please,” you whimper. your arms are shaking from the exercise, barely holding you up. after a few moments, they just give out completely.

“color, baby,” ony grunts as he slows down. he releases his grip on your hair as soon as your arms drop, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. your mind is so fuzzy, having an out of body experience with the way he just keeps pleasuring you. “g-green, papa,” you sniffle, your arms weakly wrapping around his neck.

you’re getting tired and he knows it. you’re almost at your limit and so is he. you’re so damn stubborn and just as obsessed with him as he is you. you’ve been a real trooper and he’ll admit that he underestimated you. you can keep up and handle him better than anyone.

but he’s going to come out as the winner.

“c’mon, get up. arch yo’ shit how I like it.”

you blink a few times, hesitating for just a moment as you look up at him. you’re happy to do what he wants, you‘re just a bit too blissed out to comprehend.

“you can’t hear me or sum?” he asks. his hand comes down and smacks your ass as the other holds you in place. you squeal a bit, your arms tightening around his neck. “get up and arch. wanna cum on that pretty ass.”

damn, he’s just so sexy like this. demanding, unforgiving, and so so serious. “o-okay,” you murmur, moving as quickly as you can in your weakened state to get into position. it’s almost pathetic how you can’t hold yourself up, laying your head on the pillow below you as you arch your ass into the air.

“look at you,” he croons, his hand shifting to caress your body. he rubs up your back and shoulders, reaching around you to gives your perfect tits a massage. he presses kisses down your shoulders and back before his hands meet your hips. he squeezes and grabs, shaking the prize in his eyes so that it moves in that hypnotic way he loves so damn much. “fine ass. actin’ out all damn night cause you wanna get dicked down like a fuckin’ slut.”

his hand comes down on your skin again, making you gasp softly and jump. “daddy’s needy girl, huh? freaky ass don’t want me to be nice to you. you wanna get treated like a ragdoll. hope I gave you exactly what you asked for.”

you sniffle and nod, hugging the pillow closer to you. “so much more, daddy. I-I like when you’re nice too I just needed this,” you whimper, pushing your hips back towards him in search of more of his touch.

he hums, rubbing up and down the sides of your thighs. “I know you did, babygirl, but I ain’t ask, did I?” he chuckles as he slides back into you. his hands come to either side of your waist, pulling you back to meet his slow thrusts. “you ever disrespect me like that again, this is where you gone end up. fucked up cause your damn ego is too big. don’t make me out to be a lil punk ever again, you get me?”

“I get you, papa,” you whimper, nuzzling into the comforter below you. his hips start to pick up pace and at this point, you’re just a whining and moaning mess under his touch. your toes are curled up and your eyes are finding their home in the back of your head once again.

“that’s what I fuckin’ thought. just cause I’m soft with you don’t mean I’m soft, baby. I’ll remind you over and over if I have to. pissin’ me off when you supposed to be my good girl,” he grunts, hand smacking the side of your thigh. he presses down on your waist, making you arch deeper so he can keep fucking you right.

you sniffle, more tears falling from your eyes in your overstimulation. he’s deep in you, loud squelches sounding from your weeping pussy. “m’sorry, daddy,” you whimper, hugging the pillow closer to you as he digs you out. you’re too tired and too exhausted at this point, extra sensitive in your current state. you feel bad for making him feel some type of way, hurting his pride just to get a reaction, even if it did give you what you’ve wanted.

but you’ve been humbled.

“there it is, there she goes. good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts. “been waitin’ all night for that. you sorry? tell daddy. speak up.” his hips meet yours sharper and sharper, your eyes crossing from the force of his thrusts. you whine and moan, feeling him grip your curls from behind to lift your head. “can’t hear you, baby. tell daddy you sorry,” he grumbles.

“fuuuck, i’m sorry, daddy. won’t disrespect you like that again! please forgive me,” you moan, hands gripping whatever you can for support. all you can do is take it, take it, take it, his hands holding you down by your waist and his hips never stopping. his eyes roll back and so do yours as you can feel that coil building in your stomach again.

“daddy’s gonna humble your pretty self whenever he needs to. don’t forget who run this shit,” he groans. his hands tighten around your waist and his breathing deepens into moan after moan. “keep tellin’ daddy you sorry. you want me to forgive you? you gone have to beg for it if you wanna catch this nut.”

“m’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorryyyy,” you whine and nod frantically. “want it, ony, gimme it! please, I’m so sorry! I was wrong, so fucking wrong. i’m gonna fucking come,” you huff. another smack lands on your ass and you whimper in response. “yeah, know that’s right,” ony grunts. you feel so fucking good, look so damn good. he just can’t get enough of your sounds.

“please, please, please,” you sob. “please forgive your babyyy, I’ll never please in your face again!” ony chuckles and lands another spank to your ass. you start to clench around him as your release crashes down on you. it hits you like a truck, and you actually feel breathless, moaning loudly s you make yet another mess of the sheets. “yes, yes, yes! oh fuck, ony, so perfect,” you cry.

ony fucks you through it, jaw dropping and eyebrows furrowing at the way you clench and spasm around him. “mmmm, fuck. take that shit, come all on this dick, princess. you sound so good begging for me. I forgive you, baby, swear I do. pussy too good to stay mad at you. fuck, I’m bouta nut,” he gasps.

he pulls out quickly, working himself with his hand as his other keeps his grip on you. he comes with a loud groan, painting your ass with his release as he breathes deep. he pants as he makes sure to get every last drop on that perfect bum of yours, hips twitching from the overstimulation. “holy fuck,” he moans. if you hadn’t already come before, his moans definitely would’ve sent you over the edge.

you collapse onto your stomach as you pant, eyes fluttering closed as you sit in awe of the night. never did you think that all of that was going to happen. you breathe deeply, feeling a chill go down your spine as your body calms. your limbs feel like you just left the gym and you’re truly, without a doubt, completely fucked out. you learned your lesson.

for the most part.

ony flops down next to you as he catches his breath, his arm covering his eyes. he hadn’t even realized how pent up he was. he’ll admit, he feels better. he’s glad he’s gotten his point across. the two of you stay like that for a while, letting your breathing even out as you recover from your overstimulation.

after a while, his eyes open and immediately find you, taking in your features. you look exhausted, but in a good way. he knows you’re going to sleep well tonight… and upon closer inspection, it looks like you’re on your way to that already.

he slowly sits up and reaches over to you, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. then he quietly leaves to the en suite bathroom and grabs a towel, running it under water. while it sits, he starts the tub. he returns just as quietly and uses the towel to gently clean the mess he left on your bum, being sure not to irritate the sore skin.

he discards the towel and calls out to you softly. “hey, baby,” he murmurs as he walks towards your side of the bed. he leans over, his thumb now softly tracing your jaw.

“hi,” you greet softly, your eyes opening. today’s been a long day, but very very great. you feel so sleepy and satisfied and you’re ready for bed.

“you okay, princess? how you feelin’?” he questions. he’s looking at you intently, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. it makes your heart flutter like always. you love him so damn much.

“I’m okay, ony. I really liked it, which I’m sure you could tell,” you laugh softly. it’s true, if your current state is anything to go by. you look all kinds of relaxed and he could tell that he made you come quite a few times tonight.

“you sure?” he asks again, hand now softly caressing your hip. he’s gentle as ever, back to being the ony that you’re used to. careful, attentive. “tell me bout myself if you need to,” he murmurs, making you laugh tiredly in response.

“• ᥫ᭡ •, baby, I’m serious,” he mumbles, cupping your cheek. “I love you. I need to know you’re good.” you can see the sincerity in his eyes and it makes you smile fondly. this man love loves you and you’re very grateful for him.

“I’m good, ony. I promise,” you reassure. you’re better than good, honestly. you’re fully satisfied, still secure in the fact that ony loves you and would never hurt you. he smiles and caresses your cheek for a little longer.

“good,” he murmurs, hands caressing you nonstop. his touch is so soothing that it’s almost putting you to sleep. “you were so perfect for me tonight, baby. you did so well taking all of me… I’m proud of you.” his words make you smile and he leans to press a kiss to your lips. “thanks, pa. love you so much,” you say softly.

“I love you more, babygirl,” he croons and kisses you once more. you look so beautiful, all tired and satisfied, looking up at him with heavy eyelids. he knows you’re seconds from sleep, but after such a long night the both of you really need to get clean.

“c’mere, princess,” he mutters, shifting to scoop you up into his arms. “gonna get you all cleaned up and then we’ll sleep, okay?” he says. you nod, curling up against him as your eyes fall shut. he presses a kiss to your forehead and carries you to the bathroom.

he sets you down first and then he follows to slide behind you, both of you sinking into the hot water with a sigh. ony’s eyes shut for a moment as he holds you close to him, rubbing your thigh tenderly. he stays like that for a while, feeling you lean back against him. you’re in bliss, just being held by him while the water relaxes your tired muscles.

eventually, he leans to press a kiss to your shoulder. he starts to wash you, murmuring soft reassurances in your ear. he’s careful, his touch making you hum softly, and you just about melt into his arms. he cleans you both, taking his time to caress and kiss whatever he can reach. he needs to make sure there’s no underlying tension after such a night, and he’s glad to see that you really are okay. just exhausted.

soon there both of you are dry and ony changes the sheets as you do your nighttime routine, wanting to make sure you both are as comfortable as you can be. when you exit the bathroom, you drop onto the bed with a light groan. ony chuckles and slides in next to you, pulling you close.

your back is against his chest, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck as your scent takes over his senses. he presses several tender kisses to your skin as he holds you close. you hum lightly in response, eyes closed as you bask in his sweet touch.

“I love you, princess,” he murmurs reverently. it’s the last thing you hear before sleep overcomes you.

But you just can’t. The motivation to do so isn’t there, and the reason why is embarrassing. Rumi, who sits next to you on the couch, looks you up and down. Her stark white hair is piled up into a messy bun on her head and the red bodycon dress she chose for tonight hugs her toned body just right. If anyone is going to get laid tonight, it’s her. “You might wanna smile, babe. You’re scaring off your guests.” 

She gives you a cheeky grin as she sips her whiskey-mixed drink. You’re so glad you managed to find a bartender to make drinks for tonight thanks to Keigo knowing him from his job. You’re even happier that your job’s salary allows you to pay him by the end of tonight.

“Shut up,” you mumble, but even her brash humor doesn’t make you smile an inch. Rumi rolls her eyes and turns to Nemuri, one of your other hot, longtime friends. “Muri, please get this girl another drink so she can smile.” 

Nemuri stands from her seat in her sundress, looking like a sexy girl next door. “I’ll get you some water, honey.” She gives you a wink before making a dash for the kitchen, dodging between people and the wafts of weed smoke in the air. “I’m fine,” you grumble, glaring at Rumi. “And I have gotten out my seat. I’m the host, aren’t I?” 

“Exactly!” Rumi replies. “Which means you should be walkin’ around and hosting. Not sittin’ here, mopin’ about some dickhead and worryin’ if he’ll show up. Plus, you know how men are: they show up when they want to.” 

“Not true,” you scoff. “That’s a fact that is relevant to my ex, but not to every guy in existence.” Even referring to your ex without using his name is enough to make you want to down the rest of your drink. Not only did you decide to throw this house-warming party to celebrate your first big-girl apartment, but you also wanted to celebrate being free of the leech you called your boyfriend of three years. 

“And I’m not moping, okay?” you sharply tell Rumi. “I just wanna make sure there are enough champagne flutes and food. If I get new guests, that means I need more, right?” 

Rumi eyes you down, knowing damn well you’re lying through your teeth. “Whatever you say,” she sing-songs. Nemuri returns with the iced water, handing it to you. “Here you are, honey,” she coos. “What are we talking about?” Rumi is happy to fill her girlfriend in. “The fact that she’s ready to toss a wedding ring at this man who’s afraid of leavin’ his apartment for groceries. If she says that’s not why she’s got that sour face, she’s lyin’.” 

“Hey!” you gasp, kicking at her ankle. “It’s not a lie! It’s the truth! This is the first party I’m hosting and it’s a lot to worry about, especially since it’s my first place.” 

At the beginning of the year, you found your dream apartment complex. It comes with a pool, a tennis court, a gym, and a laundry mat along with central air, free wifi, and vending machines. The neighborhood surrounding it is quiet at night, full of kids during the day, and nearby a hub of parks, restaurants, and public transportation. It was the perfect place to begin the new chapter of your life. So, after putting down a payment, signing papers, and getting help moving in, you were finally living on your own three months later. Only a party could really welcome you into your four walls.  

But so far, you aren’t enjoying it as much as you should be. And that’s all because someone you desperately want to see here tonight is missing. 

“And second, Dabi isn’t afraid of leavin’ his apartment,” you criticize Rumi. “He’s just not a people person.” At least, that’s what Keigo told you when you met Dabi for the first time. “According to him,” he scoffed. “It’s just an excuse to not socialize, really. But he’s always been like that since we were kids.” 

You caught that vibe from Dabi as soon as you met him several years ago before you met your ex. You met him through Keigo when he dragged him out to a club one spring night with you and Rumi. You heard about Dabi many times before: that he’s a firefighter; that he has dark humor; that he is kinda weird and awkward but still a pretty nice guy (according to Keigo). 

As soon as you got a look at that soft, white hair and buff arms roped in tattoos, you were entranced by him. Though he seemed somewhat out of place, like he didn’t want to be there, he carried an intoxicating aura with him, like he was your favorite cocktail drink. His tee fit tight on his muscular body from years of firefighting and his wrists were dripping in bracelets and chains. 

You were so taken aback at how hot he was that you barely noticed the burn scars. On his face, neck, and snaking up his arm from what you could see–healed, puffy skin from second-degree burns coated the left side of his face, cascading down his neck to his upper torso and disappearing down his shirt. Though his arm was roped in tattoos, you could see scars beneath the dark ink. They weren’t as bad as Keigo said they’d be, but they weren’t exactly unnoticeable either. 

But when he spoke, all of that went out the window. Keigo sat him down across from you and Rumi, grinning. “D, you know Rumi already. This is my friend Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, sticking your hand out for a shake. His crystal blue eyes, so intense yet mysteriously guarded, flitted up to meet yours. He took your hand, causing your heart to jump at how warm and calloused his palm was. “You too,” he murmured. 

God, if you could have sex with a voice, it’d be his! Though it was raspy like he chain-smoked, it also traveled from your heart right down to your clit which jumped in your panties beneath your skirt. You had to cross your legs as Rumi and Keigo began to chat. Dabi would chime in here and there, but mostly just sipped his drink and looked around the club like a bored, lost puppy. 

Dabi was fine as hell and unintentionally funny, but that wasn’t what hooked you. It was two weeks before you moved into your new apartment when he randomly hit you up while you were organizing boxes for move-in day. You were sweaty and out of breath so when you answered the phone, you sounded less than happy. “Yes?” you snapped. 

“Uh…this a bad time?” Dabi asked, his gravelly yet smooth-like-chocolate voice in your ear. Your eyes widened and your heart jumped into your throat. “No!” you immediately replied. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you. The ID came up as a possible scam.” 

“That’s my fault,” he said, actually sounding apologetic. “I never gave you my number. Listen, I didn’t wanna take up your time. I just wanted to ask if you needed help movin’ in.” 

“Huh?” you dumbly asked, your brain short-circuiting. “To where?” 

“....Your new apartment?” he said, just as confused as you. “You’re movin’ in this week, right?” 

A record scratched in your brain and you physically facepalmed yourself, mentally calling yourself a dumb bitch. “Oh, yeah!” you backpedaled. “Sorry, I’ve been moving boxes since this morning.” 

“Well, lemme come up and I’ll help you,” he replied. You blinked at his offer, shocked at how easily he volunteered. “No, it’s fine! It’s just little stuff anyway! You don’t have to–” 

“I’ll be up in ten,” he interjected. “I’ve got nothin’ better to do. Stay there.” Then he hung up, leaving you open-mouthed and horrified at your appearance. Luckily, when he came over, you had dried off your sweat and fixed your hair so you didn’t look a total hot mess. 

Though you worked in silence most of the day, Dabi made sure to ask you what to put where and heaved heavier boxes for you, his muscles flexing as he did. When his job was done, he even offered to help you move your furniture around once you got it. Weeks later, he did so, helping Keigo lug your couch up the stairs and put together a table. 

He did it all during his free time without asking for a dollar. You knew he didn’t like going out much, so to see him do it for you did something to you. Since then, you’ve always had a thing for Dabi. You call it a “thing” because you’re not sure what it is. Even when you were dating your ex, Dabi would always be at the back of your mind and in your wettest dreams. 

Since he lives in the same apartment complex as you, you say hi to him whenever you can (just to be a good, friendly neighbor). But the thing is you barely see him. He lives on a whole other floor and has an entirely different schedule than you. That’s why you were hoping he’d come tonight: so you can get to know him more. 

“How he and Keigo are friends, I’ll never understand,” Nemuri scoffs. They’re complete opposites!” Rumi smirks up at her as she squeezes a hand on her girlfriend’s ass. “I guess opposites attract,” she teasingly says, pulling a giggling Nemuri close to her. You pretend to retch. “Ugh, can you two please stop?” you whine. “I don’t need to be reminded that I don’t have a fairytale romance or that I haven’t had sex in two months.” 

“Two months?!” Rumi and Nemuri exclaim in unison. You flush, averting your eyes as you sip your drink. “That’s what I’m sayin’!” Rumi exasperates. “You’re stressin’ over a guy as weird as Dabi when you should be flirtin’ and gettin’ laid! With a body like yours, you’ll find someone to keep you company tonight in no time. Someone better than the dickhead you left.” 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you begin to see your ex’s stupid face behind your eyelids. “Don’t remind me of him, Rumi.”

It’s been three months since you moved out of your apartment with your ex and officially broke it off with him after catching him with another girl. You felt in your heart that this was the man you were destined to be with, so you threw caution to the wind and went half on an apartment with him in a nice part of Musutafu after a year of dating. 

The first five months were good, but then you started noticing how lazy he was. He barely cleaned, couldn’t cook, and argued about running errands when you asked him, even if it was just a grocery run. “You know I’m not good with groceries, babe,” he’d whine. “I always get the wrong shit and you yell at me about it!” 

What irked you most about him is that he never tried. Not with anything…even the sex. It got too boring and old. It used to be amazing between you two, but after moving in together, it started seriously lacking. Though you cut him some slack because of his busy work schedule, the same old position (that being doggy style) can get tiresome. 

Though you tried to spice things up with new lingerie, toys, or new kinks, he never seemed to want to participate or be interested in them. Those nights of nothing that lead into mornings where he left for work and left you alone were devastating. You started suspecting something was up the third year of your relationship, but you never ever suspected cheating. 

However, fate forced those rose-colored glasses off your eyes when you stepped into your apartment one afternoon and found your boyfriend getting head from another woman. You were devastated, to say the least. Your first instinct was to leave and you found yourself crying to Rumi, Nemuri, and Keigo that night over wine. “I’m gonna fuck him up,” Keigo had growled, and you had to stop him from getting in his car to do so. “You’re telling me he cheated on you?” he asked incredulously. “He’s as dumb as he is a bitch.” 

“You can stay here as long as you want, babe,” Neumri cooed, stroking your hair away from your tear-soaked face. “Rumi and I would be happy to have you…as long as you’re okay with thin walls.” And you were (or at least you told yourself you were every time you’d hear Nemuri scream Rumi’s name to the heavens). After Keigo and Rumi helped you get your shit and tell off your boyfriend, you moved out and bunked with Rumi and Nemuri while you saved up for a new home. 

Your ex called and texted you constantly, begging you to come back and that he was sorry, but after you ignored each one, he stopped. It took a while to get over him. Even now, you still feel a lump in your throat over what happened–the lies; the betrayal; the utter disrespect to you and your home. But after a while, you managed to push through and finally began healing. 

Rumi stares at you now, pissed that you’re being so stubborn but also looking empathetic towards you. “Fine, do what you want,” she sighs, “but I still say to get out of your funk and stop worryin’ about Dabi showin’ up. If he does, he does. If he doesn’t, it’s his loss and he needs to get his shit together.” 

You try to ignore her words by gulping down the rest of your drink. When it’s gone, your body craves more to replace your feelings of pure shittiness. “I’m gonna go get another tequila sunrise,” you mutter to Rumi and Nemuri. 

You make a beeline for the kitchen, not wanting to see your friends’ faces. You plaster on a smile for the guests, wanting to assure them that everything is fine and you don’t feel like you just wallowed in a load of shit in your pretty yellow dress. You finally make it to your kitchen, away from the music blasting and the constant chatter. The snack table and counters are littered with plastic cups, jello shots, alcohol bottles of alcohol, and food that you catered from your favorite restaurant. 

You immediately go to the fridge where a pitcher of pre-made tequila sunrise mix sits next to some sangria. Nemuri appears behind you, obviously having followed you from the couch. She silently watches you pour your drink before she decides to say something. “Don’t worry about Rumi, hon,” she comfortingly says. “You know how she is: she’s blunt, but she’s only that way because she loves you.” 

You lower the pitcher once your glass is full and place it back in the fridge. You don’t close the fridge though. The cool air feels good on your clammy skin. “I know,” you sigh, “but I don’t need to be reminded about how my recent relationship crashed and burned. Not to mention being lectured about Dabi. I’m not a kid.” 

“So you are worried he won’t come?” Nemuri asks curiously. 

“No!” you immediately protest, then pivot, fumbling with the straw in your drink. “I-I mean, not really. He just said he’d show up, so…I guess I was just hopin’ he’d stop by and congratulate me for the apartment since he helped me move in.” 

You had invited him, after all. This was last week on a very warm Saturday morning when the summer heat was thick. It was laundry day and you were forced to lug a pillow sack of dirty clothes in an elevator, sweating in your biker shorts, bonnet, and Spongebob tee. You were prepared for no one to see you that morning, but fate had other plans when the elevator stopped on one of the lower apartment floors. You were headed for the basement where the laundry mat is. 

The doors opened, revealing the last person you wanted to see that morning. “O-Oh!” you stuttered, taken by surprise by his sudden appearance. And the fact that he looked so goddamn hot. Dabi stood at the elevator doors in his usual black attire, except he had on sweats instead of joggers. You had to force yourself not to stare at his crotch. 

“Hey, Dabi,” you greeted him, giving him a smile. Dabi only gave you a nod as he stepped into the elevator. You didn’t take it negatively. That was just Dabi–he never said much. He pressed the button to the lobby before the doors closed, leaving you closed together in the elevator box. You could feel the four walls closing in with him standing so near, especially when his scent invading your senses. It was spicy yet sweet like cinnamon with a hint of cologne. It was turning you on badly. 

Dabi suddenly tilted his chin at the pillow sack. “What’s with the sack?” he muttered. “You got kids to deliver to or somethin’?” 

You quirked a smirk at his joke. “Funny,” you chuckled. He smirked back, shrugging passively. “I try.” Just like that, the tension faded. “Just laundry,” you sighed. “About two weeks’ worth. I’ve been puttin’ it off since I’ve been still setting up my apartment.” 

He nodded and you both fell into silence again that swelled around you. “Sooo where are you off to so early?” you asked, desperate to fill the horrible silence. 

“Just the station,” he replied blandly. “Why they decided to have a meeting at the ass-crack of dawn is beyond me.” You nodded and giggled to yourself, only imagining the shit he had to put up with as a firefighter. 

You gratefully smile at him. “Thanks a lot for helping me move. It made things so much easier.” He once again shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s whatever,” he mumbled. “And no, I don’t want your money. You need it more than I do.” 

“Ugh, you ain’t lyin’,” you groaned tiredly, your mind jumping from place to place. “I thought doing all the cleaning would be a lot, but I’m still getting used to the bills plus rent and groceries and…” You buttoned your lip and flushed embarrassingly, realizing you’d been talking for too long. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Not a good way to start your morning. Just tell me to shut up.” 

Dabi shrugged, not looking annoyed. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for. Your ex was a dick, end of story. Plus, hearin’ you complain about him isn’t the worst thing I’ve heard in the morning.” He looked at you, looking deadass. “Try gettin’ an earful of that blonde bitch singin’ in the shower when he’s not laid up with somebody.” 

You laughed then, glad you didn’t have Keigo spending the weekend with you; he chose Dabi for that. “How are your ears not bleeding?” you giggled. 

Dabi smiled at the sound of your laugh–a real, genuine smile that made him even more handsome. The moment quickly ended though when the elevator dinged and the doors opened to the lobby. “This is me,” he muttered, his smile disappearing. 

He began to head out, not even giving you a goodbye or a “have a nice day” or a “you look fine as fuck in those shorts, lemme get your number”. Nothing! Your heart thundered in your chest, realizing this may be your one chance to interact with him for more than five seconds. 

Quickly, you jammed the button to hold the doors open. “H-Hey!” you abruptly called out. Dabi stopped and looked over his shoulder at you. “I meant to tell you: I’m havin’ this apartment-warming party next Saturday night. It’s a house-warming, but it’s for my apartment and uh…” 

‘You’re rambling! Just get to the point, bitch!’ 

“If you wanna come, you’re welcome to,” you continued. “Keigo is coming, so I figured I’d extend the invite.” Dabi had an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at you as if trying to make sense of you. “So…other people are gonna be there?” he carefully asks. 

You blinked at him. What a weird fucking question. “Well, yeah, but just some of my coworkers and people Rumi and I know. It’s just a small thing, nothing too big. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but there’s gonna be food, music, a little bit of weed…” You trailed off, hoping the weed would get him since he’s a smoker. 

Dabi shoved a hand into his pocket and leaned back on his haunches. “I don’t really go to parties too much,” he admitted. “I’m not really a people person.” That definitely meant he wasn’t coming. “Oh,” you exhaled, disappointment blooming inside of you. “I get you. I just figured I’d–” 

“I mean, I’ll still stop by or whatever,” he interjected with a shrug. “Don’t I gotta bring a gift or somethin’?” You tried to stomp down the happiness flooding your chest, but you couldn’t help it. “If you want!” you chirped happily. “I like plants…wine…gift cards…Beyoncè tickets…just some ideas.” 

Dabi smirked humorously at your little witty joke. “Not sure about that other part, but I’ll see what I can do.” Then, without another word, he turned to leave. “I’ll see you later then!” you called after him to which he gave you a slight wave. Finally, you let the doors close on you, and though his goodbye was anti-climatic, you couldn’t get rid of your smile. 

Now here you are, two hours into the party and he still isn’t here yet. Keigo isn’t either but he at least said he was coming straight from work. “Don’t be upset if he doesn’t, Y/N,” Nemuri coos, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I haven’t heard of Dabi ever going against his word, he’s very…different.” 

‘Tell me about it,’ you think.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Nemuri continues, “but he’s not as much of a social butterfly as Keigo is, especially because of his accident. He might be afraid he’ll make people feel uncomfortable.” 

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, you freeze, your brain processing the meaning behind them. Dabi never talked about his accident, especially to you, but according to Keigo, he got those burn scars as a child after playing with matches one Christmas night and setting his house on fire. Supposedly, this was because he was angry that his father aka that redheaded bitch Enji Todoroki didn’t buy the family any Christmas gifts. 

Little Dabi found the matches sitting up on the mantel above the fireplace and ultimately set a spark that engulfed their home. Dabi was never the same after that, especially after nearly dying from the flames. Luckily, they left the left side of his face and body with scars–reminders of what happened. “He blames himself a lot for that night,” Keigo recounted. telling you the story some time ago. “Especially since his family lost so much. To him, he feels responsible for the fact that his family could’ve died in that fire.” 

Though Dabi has a great relationship with his family besides Enji, he’s always carried around the weight of that trauma. And those burns. He can never ever get rid of them. He’s forced to wear them and be scrutinized by the world because of his disfigurement. 

As soon as Nemuri’s words process, you feel sick to your stomach. “I never thought of it that way,” you confess, feeling horribly guilty. “Fuck, now I feel like a bitch! Here I am upset over him not coming when he owes me nothing, and yet–”

“Hey.” Like a light in the darkness, Nemuri emerges in front of you and firmly holds your shoulders. “Stop. You’ll ruin your makeup.” 

She hands you a napkin and you begin to blot your Fenty Beauty foundation, hoping your makeup didn’t slide. “Just take a breath, get yourself another drink, and have some fun!” she encourages. “You need a night to forget about your ex and meet somebody you can spend the night with. Here, I’ll even help you! I’m great at matchmaking.” 

You smile at her volunteering to help you get laid. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on scouting for dick tonight. I don’t feel like hooking up.” 

And you don’t. All you want to do is drink, dance, and celebrate your first big-girl apartment. “But I do feel like having fun!” you say aloud before taking a jello shot and throwing it back. The taste of vodka and artificial orange immediately hits your tongue, just as your favorite song blasts from the living room. 

“Ooooh, this is my song!” you squeal, already moving your body to the beat. Nemuri moves with you, happy to see you happy. “That’s the spirit!” she cheers. You two dance in the kitchen for a while until the doorbell rings. “Looks like more people came to congratulate you,” Nemuri giggles, squeezing your hand. “Go get it quick before the song ends.” 

You nod and take your drink with you as you hurry to your door. You already feel better after the quick dance session and some more alcohol. You feel like you could take on anything now. You swing open the door with enthusiasm, happy to have more guests. “Welcome to my…” you begin to shout, grinning at your guests standing at your door. 

But that smile fades when you see Keigo and Dabi standing at your door, each with a bag in their hand. As soon as Dabi’s cobalt eyes meet yours, you’re a puddle. “Home,” you weakly finish. 

“Wow, what a welcome,” Keigo chuckles. “Thanks for havin’ us, babe. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He leans in to give you a one-armed hug before releasing you. “Hope you don’t mind I bought the enigma along for the ride.” He nods at Dabi who looks oh-so uncomfortable and delicious in his black tee and jeans. His icy blue eyes flick to yours before looking away to somewhere beyond your face. “N-Not at all,” you reply softly. 

“And us too!” a familiar voice comes from behind Dabi. The voice belongs to his fine-ass brother, Natsuo Todoroki. You’re starting to think beauty runs in the Todoroki family. “Long time no see, Y/N!” Natsuo grins at you, running a hand through his snow-white hair. 

Another familiar face appears from around the corner though it is hidden behind shaggy, black hair that reaches his shoulders: Tenko aka Shiggy, with his tattoos and gauges. “That’s ‘cause your deep in those nursing books,” he tells Natsuo before turning to you, dark circles under his eyes. “You got smokes in here, right? I’ve been tattooin’ people all day and I need a reliever.” 

“Yes, and come in,” you giggle, opening the door wider for your four muscular, tall, fine-ass guests. They each walk in and you close the door behind them. As soon as they’re inside, Shiggy makes a beeline for the weed, leaving you, Dabi, Keigo, and Natsuo standing there. 

“Woooow, kid,” Keigo whistles. “Cute place you got here. I really can’t call you “kid” no more, can I?” He actually sounds upset about it. “Yep,” you laugh. “I feel like a big girl!”

“You should!” Natsuo chuckles, a smile growing on his handsome face. “Especially without that emotional vampire suckin’ the life outta you. Oh, before I forget…” He nudges Keigo who presents you with a paper bag. “Housewarming gift number one,” the second oldest Todoroki kid says with a grin. “Dabi has the other. C’mon and give her the gift, D!” 

Dabi glares at his brother, but pulls a little bag from behind his back. You look into both, finding a bottle of wine, a bottle opener, and some cute, multi-colored wine glasses in them. “Thank you,” you giggle. “I’ll drink it all tonight.” 

“So where’s the food and the pretty people?” Keigo asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. You roll your eyes at his sluttiness. “All in the living room. Rumi and Nemuri are somewhere around here if you want me to–” 

“Nah, kid, don’t worry your pretty head about it,” Keigo interjects, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll definitely find them. You stay here and tend to your new guest…he’s gonna need it.” He nods at Dabi before giving you a wink. “C’mon, Natsuo!” he hollers, taking the white-haired man by the shoulder. 

Natsuo gives you an apologetic look as he’s dragged off. “Take care of him, please?” he softly pleads before heading off with Keigo to stop him from harassing people. You turn to Dabi who looks ready to strangle them both. “Fuckin’ bitches,” he growls under his breath. 

Standing among the music and the chatter, you realize that you two are alone. Well, not completely, but enough that it feels awkward without someone starting the conversation. Nervously, you swallow, realizing you’ll have to be the leader. “I-I didn’t think you’d come,” you shakily begin. “You said you weren’t a people person.” 

“I’m not,” Dabi gruffly replies, “but I did owe you a gift.” Your heart leaps at his words despite his tone. “You really didn’t, but thanks anyway.” 

He nods once more, his eyes flicking up and down your form. When you catch it, your entire body grows hot. Does he think you look good? If he does, would he say it? It doesn’t appear he’ll say anything at all. You clear your throat once more, attempting to break the ice that is quickly hardening. “Uh…so you want a drink or a tour of the place? I’d feel bad if you were just standin’ here.” 

“What’s wrong with just standin’?” he deadpans, but you can tell it’s a joke. 

“Everything, unless you’re a plant,” you tease. You earn a little smirk out of him, but that’s about all you get. So you start to ramble. “The drinks are really good. Keigo knows the bartender, so–” 

“What?” he cuts in, straining to hear you. You lean in toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder to get closer to him. “I said Keigo knows the bartender I hired for the party!” you exclaim into his ear. “I also got catering if you want to–” 

You’re rudely cut off when someone bumps into you. She’s one of your coworkers from the HR department, but because she’s so drunk, she barely recognizes you. “Sorry!” she hiccups. “Bathroom!” Quickly, she runs upstairs to your bathroom, holding her stomach as she does. 

You turn to Dabi who looks even more uncomfortable now. You keep your hand on his shoulder, wanting him to know you’re here for him. He doesn’t move away. “I’m startin’ to think maybe you’re right about the standin’ thing,” he mumbles. “You got somewhere more private?” 

It takes a moment for his words to process, but when they do, you swear you could touch the moon. He’s here for you. To talk to you. And you know exactly where to go for it. “I know a perfect place,” you giggle excitedly. “Get yourself a drink and I’ll get some smoke. Meet me back here in five minutes.” 

Dabi looks relieved that you agreed. Quickly, he moves to the kitchen to get himself a drink, earning some eye-fucks in the process, regardless of his burns. Still holding your gifts, you make a beeline to the smoke section and force Shiggy to cough up the rest of the starburst-flavored papers and a baggie of weed. 

The crew is sitting on the couch vibing to the music when you come over. Keigo and Natsuo are in awe of Dabi, pouring himself a drink, actually participating. “So I see you got him to move!” Natsuo laughs. “It’s a miracle!” Rumi, currently holding Nemuri in her lap as she chats with someone next to her, gives you a smirk. “Where are you off to?” she asks suspiciously. 

You smile at her, unable to hide your giddiness. “To show my guest around. Hold down the fort for a minute.” 

“Maybe more than a minute,” Keigo snickers knowingly. Rumi nudges him with her elbow as you flush to yourself. “You’ve got it, captain. Go enjoy yourself and your man!” You turn away, skin still on fire. “He’s not my man!” you call over your shoulder as you hurry to gather something to loosen you both up. “Yet,” you whisper to yourself. 

Dabi meets you back in your previous spot with a red solo cup that smells of whiskey and sour apple. You motion for him to follow you out the door of your apartment and down the hall. “It’s right up here,” you explain, pointing up the emergency staircase. Dabi raises a quizzical eyebrow but follows you up the short flight of steps anyway. 

When at the top, you push open the door at the end of the staircase, revealing the rooftop to your building. The roof is decorated with comfortable sofas, mini tables, and fairy lights that hang among the rafters. The edges of the rooftop are blocked off by clear, plaster walls that serve as barriers between the inside and the outside. You shut the door behind you and turn to Dabi. “You know about this place?” you softly ask. 

He stares around the prettily-decorated rooftop, lips parted in awe. “Not at all,” he admits, bewildered. “I’ve been livin’ here longer than you and knew nothin’ about it, but then again, I barely come out my apartment.” 

“I’m a sucker for rooftops,” you confess. “That’s what drew me to this complex.” You walk over to him, staring out at the view before you: glittering city lights and the sunset; line of fuschia that dips beneath the mountains far off into the distance. It truly is a beautiful sight. You suddenly feel warm, as if someone’s eyes are on you and turn to see Dabi unabashedly staring at you. “Goddamn, you are short,” he snickers. 

You smack his arm, flushing. “Hey!” you gasp, mock-offended. “It’s not my fault I was given short genes! Just for that, you’re rollin’ for us.” You plop down on one of the couches and pat the empty seat next to you, motioning for him to sit. Dabi looks hesitant at first but sits down next to you anyway. He still appears tall even while seated. 

“You sure your crib is gonna be okay?” he asks as he begins to set up shop. You wave off his concern, trusting your guests. “Rumi and Keigo won’t let anything happen to it. Especially Rumi; she scares people.” 

He smirks at your answer and begins preparing a blunt, taking out a grinder and the little baggie of weed. You sip on your drink, watching him work, trying not to make it too obvious that you’re aroused. You watch him intensely, your eyes hypnotized by his fingers expertly sprinkling the marijuana into the paper and then working on rolling the blunt to absolute perfection. He’s so good with his hands. 

Your eyes trail up his hands to his arms, admiring the muscle beneath the dark ink on his skin. One tattoo, in particular, catches your attention: the number 58 with a green dragon slithering out of the eight. “Nice tatt.” 

“It’s my firefighter number,” he explains, eyes still trained on his hands. “The dragon is the department symbol. I inked it myself.” You don’t notice that you’ve gotten closer to him, your legs aimed directly at him. Your body is completely under his silent spell. “You do your own tattoos?” you ask, wanting to know more, anything more, about him. 

He nods, jetting his tongue out to lick the paper. It is pink with a glint of something in it. You realize that it’s a tongue piercing and your clit jumps. He suddenly stops rolling the blunt and points at a few words linked across his right collarbone. “This one is the first tatt I gave myself when I was sixteen. It’s Latin for ‘don’t let the past steal your present’.” He then begins to recite the words in Latin, his rolling tongue making the inside of your thighs feel warm. “I didn’t know you spoke Latin.” 

His eyes flicker over to yours, a softness to them. “There are a lot of things you don’t ‘bout me,” he murmurs, his tone low and sugary sweet to you. 

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the privacy, or him, but it allows you to be even bolder. You scoot even closer, your body so that your hip presses against his. He doesn’t move away, but you do feel him tense. “Hopefully, there are some you’d be willing to share,” you softly reply, hoping he’ll read between the lines and see how much you want this. 

Alas, he doesn’t say anything, but you do notice that his hip stays put. You don’t know if it’s intentional, but it has you feeling warm and tingly regardless. When he finally finishes the blunt, he lights it and takes a puff test before passing it to you. You take it gingerly between your forefinger and thumb and take a much-needed puff.

The smoke fills your lungs instantly and you exhale peacefully, watching the wisps of smoke disappear into the starry night sky. “Nothin’ like a blunt to ease the nerves,” you sigh contently, already feeling more relaxed. 

“Are you nervous?” Dabi asks. His arm is tossed over the back of the couch, right behind your head. “Around me?” You flush, passing the blunt back to him. “Well, kinda,” you laugh awkwardly. “You’re just so…” You grow quiet, trying to find the appropriate word. 

He takes a puff of the blunt. “Weird?” he finishes, quirking a brow at you as smoke billows from his mouth. He passes the blunt back to you. “I was gonna say quiet,” you reply. “I don’t think you’re weird.” 

Dabi shrugs, looking out into the city lights. “I just don’t have much to say, but you ain’t the only one who’s nervous. Like I said, I’m not much of a social butterfly; not even at work. That’s Keigo and my brother. They dragged me out here tonight.” His eyes, like twin pools of the bluest water in the farthest Caribbean island, flick to yours. “But to be honest, I would’ve come anyway.” 

You suddenly forget you’re holding the blunt and quickly place it down on the ashtray. “You would?” you ask, hating how breathless you sound. He shrugs like it should be obvious. “Well, yeah. I wouldn’t want that gift card goin’ to just anybody.” 

You scowl confusingly at him and he smirks humorously. “Look at the bottom of the gift bag.” You do so, and sure enough, you see a silver $100 Visa gift card glinting at the bottom of the bag. You take it out, staring at it. Dabi looks sheepish, planting his hand firmly in his lap as if he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It definitely ain’t a Beyoncé ticket, but I hope you like it.” 

Suddenly, the alcohol, the weed, and the scent of him begin to work their magic on you. All of your inhibitions and all logic are gone as you stare at his gorgeous, scarred face. “I love it,” you whisper, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Dabi’s cheek. You feel his soft skin and the slight prickle of stubble there before pulling away. 

He stares at you, shocked, and you stare right back as reality sets in. ‘Oh, no…what the fuck did I do?’ 

“Y/N,” he says, your voice like a prayer on his lips. But before he can finish his thought, your phone rudely interrupts him. “Fuck,” you hiss. “I’m so sorry.” You scramble to pick it up and find your ex’s name flashing across the screen. “Dammit!” you snap. 

“Who is it?” he asks, his brows furrowed. You show him, groaning with dread. “It’s my ex. I thought he stopped calling me, but apparently not.” 

“He’s been callin’ you?” he bitterly asks. He does not sound happy about this. You slowly nod to which he demands, “Put him on speaker.” You stare at him, wondering if he’s deadass, but he’s not looking like he’s BS-ing you. Despite your better judgment, you do as he says and put the call on speaker before answering your ex with a curt, “What do you want?” 

“Heeey, that’s no way to talk to your man,” your ex slurs into the phone. “What’s up with you?”

You scowl in disgust at his tone. “What’s up with you?” you shoot back. “Are you drunk?”

He snorts in response meaning he’s definitely drunk. “Not nearly enough. Just was thinkin’ ‘bout you bein’ alone in that big, empty apartment…but then I happened across your IG and saw your stories.” 

“Yeah, and?” you ask cooly. 

“You’re throwin’ a party a tour expense?” he snaps at the flip of a switch. “You want everyone to know what happened to us?” You roll your eyes. Everything is always about him. “Only my friends know what happened. And even if I tell people, it’s none of your business and you fuckin’ deserve it for cheating, dick.” 

He pauses, letting your insult process, but the longer he’s quiet the more tired you grow. “Is this what you called me for?” you demand. “To argue? ‘Cause I’m not in the mood.” He makes a sound over the phone between a sigh and a groan, sounding exhausted. “Can’t we just talk about this?” he asks. “I just don’t get why you had to leave. We had three years!” 

You scoff to yourself. The sheer audacity of this guy! Those are three years he decided to ruin; not you! “Can’t we just talk it out, Y/N?” he asks again, sounding absolutely broken.

Now it’s Dabi’s turn to respond. “There ain’t nothing to talk about,” he malevolently replies. “She already made it clear that she’s not interested in whatever you want.” 

Your ex is quiet for a moment, taken aback by the new voice. “Who the fuck are you?” he spits. “Y/N, who is that?” Your brain short circuits trying to find a legitimate answer. 

“Her new man,” Dabi growls. “And if you ever call her again, I’m pullin’ up to make you stop myself. You’re lucky I didn’t do that when I found out you stuck your dick in another chick. What are you, stupid?” You and your ex are silent, astounded by his words. 

“And if you even think about comin’ over here yourself, don’t,” Dabi continues. “Take that as my act of kindness to you even though you sure as hell don’t deserve it.” Your ex is enraged, cussing, and slurring into the speaker. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snaps. “You think you can just–” 

“Don’t call here again, whore,” Dabi growls before he gives you a slight nod and you end the call. As soon as the call ends, you set your phone down and voice the one question that is burning you alive: “Did you mean what you said?” you ask carefully. “That you’re my new man?” 

Before Dabi can even begin to explain himself, you softly, shyly, tell him, “‘Cause I wouldn’t reject that offer.” You lay your cards out flat, aroused by him defending you from your trash ex. 

Dabi gapes at you, shocked, and then a hardened expression sets on his handsome face. “You’re not serious,” he scoffs with laughter. “You’re not.” You scowl at him, disappointed. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “What do you mean?” you ask, confused. “You don’t think I want this?” 

“No, I don’t,” he replies sternly, suddenly standing. You can see the wall that you’ve been trying to destroy building back up. “I think you think I’m a weird, introverted loser that you wanna take a ride on because it’ll be fun for the first few weeks while you’re gettin’ over your breakup.” He shakes his head, laughing to himself. “You could never want me.” 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Why would you think that?” you softly ask, hurt for him. Dabi chuckles dryly. “C’mon now. Someone who looks like you with someone who looks like me?” He points to the scars on his face. “I’m not the man you think I am.” 

“I don’t think of you as anything, Dabi,” you passionately say, standing with him. “I invited you here because I want to get to know you more. I always have, even when I was with my ex.” He turns to stare at you, shocked at your words. There it is: the truth, laid out in the open with only the stars as witnesses. 

You move closer to him, gently taking his wrist in your hand. His body feels tense in your grasp. “Your scars mean nothing to me; they never did. Would you believe me if I said I’ve always liked you too?” 

You take your other hand and place it on his chest, right above his heart beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. “Now that I know you feel the same way, nothing is holding me back anymore.” You stand up on your tiptoes and again press a kiss to his jawline, right on a burn scar. “I can handle this, Dabi,” you murmur against his ear. “I like it rough.” 

That is all you needed to say to get Dabi to finally unravel. 

You can only let out a tiny gasp before he grabs you by the back of the neck and presses his lips against yours. His kiss isn’t soft or careful. His kiss his rough; hungry; slow as he draws moans and gasps out of you. He kisses you like he’s been dreaming of doing it for ages. His lips are soft, the taste of whiskey, apple, and mint on his tongue. You let his hands move along your back and ass, squeezing the flesh there and making you moan. 

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he slides his tongue alongside your bottom lip before slipping it inside your mouth. He moans hungrily as your tongue begins to swirl with his, swapping spit and exchanging breath. The act makes your pussy clench impatiently in your panties, wanting to be touched and petted. Dabi then pulls away enough to speak to you, his eyes hooded and dark. 

“How long have you felt his way about me?” he murmurs hotly against your lips. “Tell me.” 

His hand sneaks down underneath your dress to squeeze your ass. 

You let him, biting back a whimper in the process. You barely know him and yet you’re letting him touch you like this right in the open. “S-Since you helped me move,” you softly stutter. “But I’ve always been attracted to you since we met.” 

He begins to kiss you all over now: your neck; your jawline; your collarbone; your naked shoulders in your spaghetti straps. “Fuck,” he growls against your skin. “You’re too good to be fuckin’ true.” His hands roam up and down your hips and sides, squeezing and fondling. “I’ve been wantin’ your fine ass since we met.” 

“How come you never…?” The rest of your question doesn’t reach your lips as he grabs you by your hips and pulls you toward him, so close that air can’t even move between you. Your bodies are pressed flush against each other, so close that you can feel a bulge in his jeans. He’s turned on by you. The fact makes you delirious. 

His lips press against yours again as he walks backwards to the couch, never breaking the kiss, and plops down on it. He then grips you by the hips and coaxes you into his lap where you begin to straddle him.

His hands, so rough yet so warm, continue to fondle your thighs and ass, squeezing at the flesh and making you whimper into his mouth. Instinctively, you grind down into his hardened dick, enlisting a moan from deep within his throat. It travels right down to your pussy. 

Suddenly, he pulls away with a soft gasp. His eyes are lust-blown, his lips pinker than usual. “Hang on…I wanna try something.”

With one arm wrapped securely around your waist, he moves to pluck the blunt from the ashtray. “You ever shotgun before?” he asks. You blink dumbly at him, confused, and shake your head. “It’s easy. Lemme show you.” 

You watch with utter lust as he takes a long drag of the blunt, his eyes pinned on yours. Then, with one hand, he squeezes your cheeks, forcing you to form your mouth into an O. He leans in close as if he is about to kiss you again and, slowly, billows of smoke shoot out of his mouth and into yours. 

You’re trembling with need and anticipation as the smoke fills your senses along with the sight of Dabi’s crystal blue eyes staring you down. “Nice, right?” he chuckles. “Now try it with me.” 

You’re eager to try this new addictive activity, so you pucker your lips and puff on the blunt that he holds for you. Then, after inhaling a good portion of smoke, you slowly blow it out into his waiting mouth. But you don’t stop there. You lean in toward him and devour his mouth, desperate to have him. You’re wasted and high off of him. You pull away, leaving him dazed. “I want you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around him.  

“Bedroom?” he asks, a suggestive glint in his eye. “And before you ask, no, I don’t think you’re easy or that I’m a rebound. We already established that we’re two idiots who’ve been pinin’ after each other for months now.” 

His words make you smile. Though you weren’t at all thinking about if he saw you as “easy” or if he was just a lay to get over your ex, it’s so nice to hear that all he wants is you. This only makes your need for him grow until it reaches an almost painful point. Your throbbing clit is testament to that. 

“No bedroom,” you say, giving him an excited, sexy smile. “I want you out here.” Dabi raises a brow, not expecting your request. “Please, Dabi,” you plead. “I-I don’t think I can wait.” To show him that you’re serious, you begin to take down the spaghetti straps to your dress to reveal your bra. You don’t care if anyone sees. You just want him so badly. 

The shock in his blue eyes is replaced with sheer hunger when he gets a look at those perfect tits in the pretty little bra you have on. “You little freak,” he chuckles. “Hop off me.” You listen to him and settle down next to him as he gets up to inspect you. 

You bite your lip and watch him as he kneels down in front of you and opens your legs. When he gets a look at your soaked little panties, he almost looks pained. “Goddamn, mama,” he hisses. “You’re so wet for me. You don’t even need these little panties anymore.” His eyes flick up to yours and his hands still at your thighs. ‘Okay?’ his eyes ask. 

Wordlessly, you nod, unable to speak. But he isn’t down for that. He begins to brush his fingers up and down your wet slit above your panties, paying close attention to your reactions. “Words, baby,” he growls. “Gimme words.” 

“Yes!” you moan, your toes curling in your heels at the feeling of his fingers brushing your wet cunt. “Please, Dabi…please touch me.” 

He gives you a wolfish grin at your pitiful reaction, but doesn’t keep you waiting. He loops his fingers through the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs you reveal your naked, sobbing wet pussy. “Shit!” he hisses, gaping at your sex. “You have the prettiest pussy, babe.” 

“Thank y–!” Your words are cut off by a sudden gasp as Dabi leans in and begins suckling on your clit, eating your pussy like a starving man. He is relentless with his tongue slashes, flicks, and long licks up and down your slit. He moves his tongue like he’s a master at eating pussy, paying close attention to your reaction every time he does something new. 

You’re loving it. You writhe and grind your hips against his mouth, trying to get him closer. Your pussy pushes against his pillowy-soft lips and wet tongue that writes nonsense across your wet lips and needy little clit. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles into your pussy. “Does doin’ this shit out in the open turn you on, mama?” 

You moan in response, unable to form words, especially when he reaches one hand up to play with your breast. You take off your bra, hissing in pleasure as he begins gently pinching the hardened brown nipple. 

This is insane! You barely know this man and not only are you letting him do this to you, it’s all in public. Anyone could walk up and see you. Or look across from another building. Or up from the sidewalk. It’s so shameful. So nasty. And so, so good. 

It feels even better when Dabi begins to tease your entrance with his middle finger, dipping the tip in and out of your wet pussy. “You want this?” he asks, his voice nothing but a low growl.

You nod vigorously and he laughs. “So needy,” he teases as he begins to slowly slide his finger inside of you. “Your ex must’ve not be takin’ care of this pussy. He never made you feel like this, did he?” 

“N-No,” you gasp, eyes blown as you feel your pussy stretch slightly around his finger. He quickly begins to aim up to brush against your clit as he slides his finger in and out of you. Not only that, but he begins to suck at your clit, sending waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

You can feel yourself quickly beginning to reach that peak to your climax. You don’t want this to end. You want to make this moment last. “Wait, Dabi!” you shout, writhing against him. “Stop! Don’t make me cum!” 

He immediately ceases his movements and pulls away from you, glaring in confusion. “‘Scuse me?” he asks, not sounding happy with your protest. 

You nearly laugh at his reaction. “I wanna make this last,” you explain. “I wanna make you feel good too. So stand up.” Dabi still looks pissed he couldn’t make you cum, but listens to you anyway. He stands up, mouth and chin glistening from your juices, and you stand with him. 

Slowly, you begin to kiss and suck your essence off of his mouth, earning low moans from him. 

Your hands slide down to his broad chest and you grip his shirt collar. “Off please?” you ask, peering up at him through your lashes. 

You don’t even have to ask twice. In a flash, he’s stripping, tossing his shirt somewhere on the rooftop. You take a moment to admire his beautiful body–so hard and defined with muscle, ink, and burn scars that coat the left side of his body. His nipples, pink and hard, glint with two silver rings and his lower stomach is sinewy with white hair. He’s so, so pretty. 

He must think your stares mean something else because he averts his eyes. “I know it ain’t picture perfect,” he mutters, sounding ashamed. Your heart leaps with fear, hoping you didn’t ruin tonight for you both. 

Quickly, you try to fix things by gliding your hands up and down his hard body, admiring his well-defined pecs and abs. “You’re perfect,” you whisper before leaning in to peck his burn scars, running your lips softly over each. 

The low moans and “mmm”s Dabi release are delicious to you. They only heighten your arousal along with the sound of the party still going on downstairs. The music and chatter are muffled, but the fact that it is so still near is so exciting to you. 

You never saw yourself participating in public sex, but you suppose it takes the right person to bring the freak out of you. And you want to be the freakiest, sluttiest girl with this man.

To prove that, you begin to lick and suck along his hardened nipples, tugging on the tiny silver rings hanging from them. “Fuck, baby,” he hums, watching you as you work. His lips are parted and his eyes are hooded. He is completely entranced by you. 

You begin to kiss down his hardened stomach until you come to his jeans already hanging low on his hips. You stop, your hands at his fly, and look up at him. ‘Okay?’ you ask with your eyes. Slowly, he nods, giving you the green light. You pull his pants and his underwear down in one go, eager to see what’s underneath. 

You begin to think you bit off more than you can suck when you get a look at his cock for the first time. He is well endowed, thick, and curves upward so his dick slaps against his stomach when you finally release him from his trousers. White hair curls around his stomach and pubic area, but it isn’t like a jungle. But that isn’t what gets you: it’s the piercing that glints from the head of his dick in the moonlight. 

You gape at his cock, not sure what to say or do. “You okay?” he asks, humored. 

“Uh…” That’s all you can say. He’s just so, big! How can you get him in your mouth? You’re lucky you can even fit one hand around him as you begin to stroke him softly from base to tip. 

Dabi cackles down at you, relishing your fear. “Don’t be scared of it, mama,” he purrs, taking his dick out of your hand and waving it in front of you. You watch, hypnotized. Dickmatized. 

“You said you wanted to make me feel the way I make you feel, right?” he asks teasingly. “C’mon now. You can do it. Open that pretty mouth.” 

Not wanting to disappoint him, you open your mouth and he slowly begins to slide his dick against your tongue. “There we go,” he coos. “Good girl. Take it all in.” You try, your jaw and mouth stretching for his size. “I’m guessin’ I’m bigger than your mans, huh?” he chuckles lowly. 

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum around his cock, the vibrations causing him to moan. You relish the sounds, wanting more. So you begin to move your head back and forth, taking his cock in and out of your throat. You gag and spit all along his dick, causing saliva to drip down his balls and your chin, making your blowjob extra sloppy. 

Dabi tosses his head back and rolls his eyes back, giving you a sight that is fit for porn. He’s so sexy. And to be able to make him feel good gives you the motivation to ignore your aching jaw and burning throat as you continue to fuck him with your throat. 

“You’re doin’ so good, babe,” he grunts as he begins to roll his hips into your mouth. “At this rate, you’ll make me cum.” 

You nod your head, coaxing him to do so. You want him to cum. You want to taste all of him in your mouth. But he surprises you when he begins to slow down his hips and pulls his wet cock out of your mouth. “No,” he growls. “If I’m gonna cum, it either has to be on that pretty ass or those titties of yours.” 

You stare up at him, drinking in his spectacular body and dick standing at attention for you. You then decide that if you are to finally cum, you want it to be wrapped around his cock.

‘Fuck it,’ you think. You don’t care that you barely know him. All of that “getting to know you” shit can wait until after you get him inside of you. “Why not inside of me then?” you purr, standing up to take his hands in yours. 

He blinks at you, dumbfounded. “Without a condom?” he asks. “I don’t have one on me.” You shake your head, pecking his lips. “I’m on the pill.” 

That’s all you need to say to get Dabi to smash his lips hungrily against yours. “Oh, thank fuck,” he sighs, relieved. “I don’t mind beatin’ my dick to the sight of you in front of me, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want your pretty little pussy wrapped ‘round me.” 

His dirty words send shivers up your spine. “And you’re okay with this? I mean, we barely know each other and–” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls, already moving you back to the couch again. “I’ll take you out later, but right now, I fuckin’ need you. Now choose how I’m doin’ you before I lose my fuckin’ mind.” 

You gape at him, dumbfounded and so, so horny. You’ve never had a man be so desperate for you before. You waste no time bending over the couch, presenting your ass and dripping pussy for him. You then look back at him, finding him standing there and stroking himself to the sight of you. “Like this,” you whisper. “Fuck me just like this, Dabi.” 

Dabi is going fucking feral behind you. It takes everything in him to not shove every single inch of his hard, thick cock inside of you as he moves closer to you and begins to stroke your pussy with his cock. 

“God, look at you, stainin’ up the couch,” he sighs as you twitch and quiver. “Anyone could see you like this, about to get fucked hard.” 

‘I don’t care,’ you want to scream. Anyone can watch if they want. All you want is that dick inside of you now. 

And then finally, he gives it to you. He goes slow, taking his sweet time to allow you to get used to him. As soon as his cockhead enters you, your jaw is dropping open and your eyes are blown from how stretched you feel already. No toy could compare to how warm and solid Dabi feels snuggled up in your pussy. Not even your ex could make you feel this full or this good. 

Through it all, you breathe in and out, relaxing your body into the couch cushion. Though it doesn’t hurt, you’re feeling beyond stretched by Dabi and you almost collapse from the feeling. 

You’re so glad to have the couch to grip as he takes a hold of your hips and bottoms out inside of you. “F-Fuck, Dabi!” you whine, gripping the couch. 

He begins to bump his hips against your ass a little faster now, the sound of skin slapping filling the air as his heavy balls hit your clit. “Come on now, mama,” he huffs. “You wanna be a big girl, right? Take me just like one. Make me proud.” 

He begins to fuck you harder, taking a handful of your breasts and fondling them one at a time. 

The feeling is just too much. His dick strokes the most sensitive parts of you as your clit jumps with every slap of his balls against it. 

And he’s just so deep! He is making you see stars that don’t even compare to the ones coating the night sky above the beautiful view stretched before you. You have no chance to take it all in, too busy taking Dabi’s fat cock as he fucks you into oblivion in your little sundress and heels. 

“Feels good, don’t it?” he grunts into your ear. One hand moves to your ass to gently spank your ass, causing you to moan at the feeling. “Bet you’ve dreamed about this,” he growls to you. “Bet you wanted to get slutted out on my dick for so long. Bet you couldn’t wait for tonight. Bet you planned this.” 

He leans down toward you, his lips grazing your ear. “Bet you’ve wanted to be my good girl for so long,” he growls before his hand comes down on your ass a little harder. 

“God, Dabi, yes!” you scream out to the sky, gripping the couch for dear life as he fucks you harder. You’ve never felt like this before: so gone off that dick. Your eyes are closed and your mind is completely blank from the blinding pleasure you feel, each wave much bigger than the one before and washing over you. 

The pleasure is just too good, and it’s starting to reach a deafening crescendo. You can feel it building in your core, threatening to snap at any moment. “Gonna cum!” you practically sob, your head thrown back. “Gonna cum for you Dabi!” 

Dabi cackles behind you, putting a foot up on the cushion to get a better angle as he continues to fuck your pussy into submission. “Me too,” he grunts. “Want you take it. Take all of me like a big girl, baby.” 

He presses his lips to your ear, leaning down so his dick is hitting that spot that has you seeing the entire galaxy behind your eyelids. “Fuckin’ cum for me, mama,” he demands. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel. Cream all over that dick!”  

And you do. Moans and gasps leave your lips like a chorus as that chord finally snaps. You unravel, cumming all over Dabi’s dick. “Oh, my God!” you scream, your voice reaching heights fit for a shower singing session when you think no one is listening. 

You cream all over Dabi’s cock buried deep inside of you as he talks you through it, telling you how good of a girl you are as he strokes your outer thighs. 

“Gonna cum too,” he grunts, his hips snapping against your ass again and again as he chases his high. “You gonna take all of it, baby, hm?” 

“Y-Yes!” you choke out. “Please, please cum for me!” You begin tossing your ass back to meet his thrusts, wanting to feel him burst inside of you. Finally, he grips your hips for dear life and cums deep inside of you with a raspy, loud moan that makes your stomach leap and your pussy clench around his pulsing cock. 

You take every single ounce of his warm, creamy cum that shoots into your pussy, never once pulling away. You can feel it coating your walls, filling you up to the point where you curl your toes and shudder at the feeling coursing through your body. 

Finally, Dabi’s hips begin to slow until he is sloppily fucking you, chasing the rest of his high. Then with a soft groan, he pulls out, but it isn’t over yet. His cock is still hard as he begins to slide the head along your lower back and ass, coating your skin in his cum. “So you smell like me,” he softly says. “So no other man will even try.” 

You let out a weak moan as you feel his nut coat your skin and drip down your thighs, making them slick and wet. Finally, he releases you and you slump against the couch, exhausted and spent, but feeling so good. 

After giving you some time to compose yourself, Dabi helps you fix your dress (without the panties) and fishes a napkin out of his pocket to wipe his cum off of your thighs. ‘What a gentleman,’ you think, giggling to yourself. 

He seems sheepish and almost shy standing there, now in his briefs. “I didn’t…hurt you, did I?” he carefully asks. You slowly shake your head, still in a daze. “That was amazing,” you sigh. “I’ve never been fucked like that before.” A proud smile stretches across Dabi’s face. “Just whatcha needed?” he asks. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Absolutely,” you hum contently. “I hope it’s what you needed too.” He hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to the crown of your forehead. “That and much more.” You smile happily into his chest, glad that it was just as good for him as it was for you. 

For a while, you two stay like that: hugging in the warm breeze. Finally, Dabi clears his throat. “So…now what?” he awkwardly asks. 

“Well, we can’t go back inside like this,” you giggle. You motion to your dress still hiked up on your thighs and his semi-nakedness, though you’re sure that his physique would be welcomed. 

“And I think we both need to recover after those mind-blowing orgasms,” you purr, your pussy still sensitive from his dick beating it up. You curl up on the sofa and poke your bottom lip out at him. “Cuddle with me?” you coo. 

Dabi chortles at you, rolling his clear, blue eyes. “Such a baby,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky I like feelin’ you in my arms.” 

His sweet words make you flush in the breeze as he settles down next to you. He scoops you into his lap and securely wraps his muscled arms around you, squeezing you to him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. 

You feel the same way. You loop your arms around his neck and cradle his head to your beating heart. “So is a date in order after this?” he curiously asks. “I’m not too familiar with this shit, so…” 

You can feel the awkwardness radiating off of him. A laugh bubbles in your chest. Leave it to him to feel awkward about dating even though he just fucked you doggystyle on a rooftop! 

“Yes, Dabi,” you laugh. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” You feel him smile into your chest and he squeezes you closer to him, making you giggle. You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up in him. 

When your phone suddenly rings, you feel like shooting somebody. You whine as you grab your phone, Dabi keeping his arms wrapped around you so you don’t fall. “That’s Keigo,” you sigh. “I hope no one broke anything.” You answer the phone, going back to cuddling Dabi. “Yeah?” 

“So I’m guessin’ you made our guest feel welcomed?” Keigo immediately asks. “You two have been gone for, like, an hour.” 

“It hasn’t been that long, Keigo,” you scoff though you really don’t know what time it is. “How’s the party? Is my apartment still intact?” 

“Don’t you trust me?” he scoffs. “So you and Dabi are together now? I knew it was only a matter of time until he decided to pull up his big boy pants and tell you how he felt.” 

You scowl in confusion, your heart picking up speed. “How did you–?” 

“Know?” he finishes and gives a laugh. “Kid, I’ve known this shit for years! It just wasn’t my business to tell. However, you can thank yourselves because you saved time. Now everyone knows you two are an item.” 

Your eyes widen, hoping he doesn’t mean what you think he means. “Huh?” you dumbly ask, earning an eyebrow raise from Dabi. 

“Everybody totally heard you fuckin’ up there, sis!” Rumi yells in the background. You hear laughter from Shiggy and Natsuo in the background. You feel like hiding in a hole and never coming out. Everyone heard you?! Were you that loud?! 

“We turned up the music, but it could only block out so much,” Keigo chuckles, humored at your embarrassment. “I didn’t know you could get that loud. You ever consider singing?” 

“Goodbye, Keigo,” you growl, cutting off his cackle by immediately hanging up. You toss your phone to the side but not before turning off your ringtone. You don’t want anything or anyone ruining this moment for you. “What’d he say?” Dabi curiously asks. 

“Nothing,” you quickly reply. You slide off of his lap so you’re sitting next to him and snuggle back into his chest, holding him close. “Just that he’s an asshole.” 

Dabi chuckles, wrapping an arm around you as he puffs on the rest of the blunt, smoke billowing into the starry night sky above. “Well, that’s just a fact, babe.”  

THE END. 

But you just can’t. The motivation to do so isn’t there, and the reason why is embarrassing. Rumi, who sits next to you on the couch, looks you up and down. Her stark white hair is piled up into a messy bun on her head and the red bodycon dress she chose for tonight hugs her toned body just right. If anyone is going to get laid tonight, it’s her. “You might wanna smile, babe. You’re scaring off your guests.” 

She gives you a cheeky grin as she sips her whiskey-mixed drink. You’re so glad you managed to find a bartender to make drinks for tonight thanks to Keigo knowing him from his job. You’re even happier that your job’s salary allows you to pay him by the end of tonight.

“Shut up,” you mumble, but even her brash humor doesn’t make you smile an inch. Rumi rolls her eyes and turns to Nemuri, one of your other hot, longtime friends. “Muri, please get this girl another drink so she can smile.” 

Nemuri stands from her seat in her sundress, looking like a sexy girl next door. “I’ll get you some water, honey.” She gives you a wink before making a dash for the kitchen, dodging between people and the wafts of weed smoke in the air. “I’m fine,” you grumble, glaring at Rumi. “And I have gotten out my seat. I’m the host, aren’t I?” 

“Exactly!” Rumi replies. “Which means you should be walkin’ around and hosting. Not sittin’ here, mopin’ about some dickhead and worryin’ if he’ll show up. Plus, you know how men are: they show up when they want to.” 

“Not true,” you scoff. “That’s a fact that is relevant to my ex, but not to every guy in existence.” Even referring to your ex without using his name is enough to make you want to down the rest of your drink. Not only did you decide to throw this house-warming party to celebrate your first big-girl apartment, but you also wanted to celebrate being free of the leech you called your boyfriend of three years. 

“And I’m not moping, okay?” you sharply tell Rumi. “I just wanna make sure there are enough champagne flutes and food. If I get new guests, that means I need more, right?” 

Rumi eyes you down, knowing damn well you’re lying through your teeth. “Whatever you say,” she sing-songs. Nemuri returns with the iced water, handing it to you. “Here you are, honey,” she coos. “What are we talking about?” Rumi is happy to fill her girlfriend in. “The fact that she’s ready to toss a wedding ring at this man who’s afraid of leavin’ his apartment for groceries. If she says that’s not why she’s got that sour face, she’s lyin’.” 

“Hey!” you gasp, kicking at her ankle. “It’s not a lie! It’s the truth! This is the first party I’m hosting and it’s a lot to worry about, especially since it’s my first place.” 

At the beginning of the year, you found your dream apartment complex. It comes with a pool, a tennis court, a gym, and a laundry mat along with central air, free wifi, and vending machines. The neighborhood surrounding it is quiet at night, full of kids during the day, and nearby a hub of parks, restaurants, and public transportation. It was the perfect place to begin the new chapter of your life. So, after putting down a payment, signing papers, and getting help moving in, you were finally living on your own three months later. Only a party could really welcome you into your four walls.  

But so far, you aren’t enjoying it as much as you should be. And that’s all because someone you desperately want to see here tonight is missing. 

“And second, Dabi isn’t afraid of leavin’ his apartment,” you criticize Rumi. “He’s just not a people person.” At least, that’s what Keigo told you when you met Dabi for the first time. “According to him,” he scoffed. “It’s just an excuse to not socialize, really. But he’s always been like that since we were kids.” 

You caught that vibe from Dabi as soon as you met him several years ago before you met your ex. You met him through Keigo when he dragged him out to a club one spring night with you and Rumi. You heard about Dabi many times before: that he’s a firefighter; that he has dark humor; that he is kinda weird and awkward but still a pretty nice guy (according to Keigo). 

As soon as you got a look at that soft, white hair and buff arms roped in tattoos, you were entranced by him. Though he seemed somewhat out of place, like he didn’t want to be there, he carried an intoxicating aura with him, like he was your favorite cocktail drink. His tee fit tight on his muscular body from years of firefighting and his wrists were dripping in bracelets and chains. 

You were so taken aback at how hot he was that you barely noticed the burn scars. On his face, neck, and snaking up his arm from what you could see–healed, puffy skin from second-degree burns coated the left side of his face, cascading down his neck to his upper torso and disappearing down his shirt. Though his arm was roped in tattoos, you could see scars beneath the dark ink. They weren’t as bad as Keigo said they’d be, but they weren’t exactly unnoticeable either. 

But when he spoke, all of that went out the window. Keigo sat him down across from you and Rumi, grinning. “D, you know Rumi already. This is my friend Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, sticking your hand out for a shake. His crystal blue eyes, so intense yet mysteriously guarded, flitted up to meet yours. He took your hand, causing your heart to jump at how warm and calloused his palm was. “You too,” he murmured. 

God, if you could have sex with a voice, it’d be his! Though it was raspy like he chain-smoked, it also traveled from your heart right down to your clit which jumped in your panties beneath your skirt. You had to cross your legs as Rumi and Keigo began to chat. Dabi would chime in here and there, but mostly just sipped his drink and looked around the club like a bored, lost puppy. 

Dabi was fine as hell and unintentionally funny, but that wasn’t what hooked you. It was two weeks before you moved into your new apartment when he randomly hit you up while you were organizing boxes for move-in day. You were sweaty and out of breath so when you answered the phone, you sounded less than happy. “Yes?” you snapped. 

“Uh…this a bad time?” Dabi asked, his gravelly yet smooth-like-chocolate voice in your ear. Your eyes widened and your heart jumped into your throat. “No!” you immediately replied. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you. The ID came up as a possible scam.” 

“That’s my fault,” he said, actually sounding apologetic. “I never gave you my number. Listen, I didn’t wanna take up your time. I just wanted to ask if you needed help movin’ in.” 

“Huh?” you dumbly asked, your brain short-circuiting. “To where?” 

“....Your new apartment?” he said, just as confused as you. “You’re movin’ in this week, right?” 

A record scratched in your brain and you physically facepalmed yourself, mentally calling yourself a dumb bitch. “Oh, yeah!” you backpedaled. “Sorry, I’ve been moving boxes since this morning.” 

“Well, lemme come up and I’ll help you,” he replied. You blinked at his offer, shocked at how easily he volunteered. “No, it’s fine! It’s just little stuff anyway! You don’t have to–” 

“I’ll be up in ten,” he interjected. “I’ve got nothin’ better to do. Stay there.” Then he hung up, leaving you open-mouthed and horrified at your appearance. Luckily, when he came over, you had dried off your sweat and fixed your hair so you didn’t look a total hot mess. 

Though you worked in silence most of the day, Dabi made sure to ask you what to put where and heaved heavier boxes for you, his muscles flexing as he did. When his job was done, he even offered to help you move your furniture around once you got it. Weeks later, he did so, helping Keigo lug your couch up the stairs and put together a table. 

He did it all during his free time without asking for a dollar. You knew he didn’t like going out much, so to see him do it for you did something to you. Since then, you’ve always had a thing for Dabi. You call it a “thing” because you’re not sure what it is. Even when you were dating your ex, Dabi would always be at the back of your mind and in your wettest dreams. 

Since he lives in the same apartment complex as you, you say hi to him whenever you can (just to be a good, friendly neighbor). But the thing is you barely see him. He lives on a whole other floor and has an entirely different schedule than you. That’s why you were hoping he’d come tonight: so you can get to know him more. 

“How he and Keigo are friends, I’ll never understand,” Nemuri scoffs. They’re complete opposites!” Rumi smirks up at her as she squeezes a hand on her girlfriend’s ass. “I guess opposites attract,” she teasingly says, pulling a giggling Nemuri close to her. You pretend to retch. “Ugh, can you two please stop?” you whine. “I don’t need to be reminded that I don’t have a fairytale romance or that I haven’t had sex in two months.” 

“Two months?!” Rumi and Nemuri exclaim in unison. You flush, averting your eyes as you sip your drink. “That’s what I’m sayin’!” Rumi exasperates. “You’re stressin’ over a guy as weird as Dabi when you should be flirtin’ and gettin’ laid! With a body like yours, you’ll find someone to keep you company tonight in no time. Someone better than the dickhead you left.” 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you begin to see your ex’s stupid face behind your eyelids. “Don’t remind me of him, Rumi.”

It’s been three months since you moved out of your apartment with your ex and officially broke it off with him after catching him with another girl. You felt in your heart that this was the man you were destined to be with, so you threw caution to the wind and went half on an apartment with him in a nice part of Musutafu after a year of dating. 

The first five months were good, but then you started noticing how lazy he was. He barely cleaned, couldn’t cook, and argued about running errands when you asked him, even if it was just a grocery run. “You know I’m not good with groceries, babe,” he’d whine. “I always get the wrong shit and you yell at me about it!” 

What irked you most about him is that he never tried. Not with anything…even the sex. It got too boring and old. It used to be amazing between you two, but after moving in together, it started seriously lacking. Though you cut him some slack because of his busy work schedule, the same old position (that being doggy style) can get tiresome. 

Though you tried to spice things up with new lingerie, toys, or new kinks, he never seemed to want to participate or be interested in them. Those nights of nothing that lead into mornings where he left for work and left you alone were devastating. You started suspecting something was up the third year of your relationship, but you never ever suspected cheating. 

However, fate forced those rose-colored glasses off your eyes when you stepped into your apartment one afternoon and found your boyfriend getting head from another woman. You were devastated, to say the least. Your first instinct was to leave and you found yourself crying to Rumi, Nemuri, and Keigo that night over wine. “I’m gonna fuck him up,” Keigo had growled, and you had to stop him from getting in his car to do so. “You’re telling me he cheated on you?” he asked incredulously. “He’s as dumb as he is a bitch.” 

“You can stay here as long as you want, babe,” Neumri cooed, stroking your hair away from your tear-soaked face. “Rumi and I would be happy to have you…as long as you’re okay with thin walls.” And you were (or at least you told yourself you were every time you’d hear Nemuri scream Rumi’s name to the heavens). After Keigo and Rumi helped you get your shit and tell off your boyfriend, you moved out and bunked with Rumi and Nemuri while you saved up for a new home. 

Your ex called and texted you constantly, begging you to come back and that he was sorry, but after you ignored each one, he stopped. It took a while to get over him. Even now, you still feel a lump in your throat over what happened–the lies; the betrayal; the utter disrespect to you and your home. But after a while, you managed to push through and finally began healing. 

Rumi stares at you now, pissed that you’re being so stubborn but also looking empathetic towards you. “Fine, do what you want,” she sighs, “but I still say to get out of your funk and stop worryin’ about Dabi showin’ up. If he does, he does. If he doesn’t, it’s his loss and he needs to get his shit together.” 

You try to ignore her words by gulping down the rest of your drink. When it’s gone, your body craves more to replace your feelings of pure shittiness. “I’m gonna go get another tequila sunrise,” you mutter to Rumi and Nemuri. 

You make a beeline for the kitchen, not wanting to see your friends’ faces. You plaster on a smile for the guests, wanting to assure them that everything is fine and you don’t feel like you just wallowed in a load of shit in your pretty yellow dress. You finally make it to your kitchen, away from the music blasting and the constant chatter. The snack table and counters are littered with plastic cups, jello shots, alcohol bottles of alcohol, and food that you catered from your favorite restaurant. 

You immediately go to the fridge where a pitcher of pre-made tequila sunrise mix sits next to some sangria. Nemuri appears behind you, obviously having followed you from the couch. She silently watches you pour your drink before she decides to say something. “Don’t worry about Rumi, hon,” she comfortingly says. “You know how she is: she’s blunt, but she’s only that way because she loves you.” 

You lower the pitcher once your glass is full and place it back in the fridge. You don’t close the fridge though. The cool air feels good on your clammy skin. “I know,” you sigh, “but I don’t need to be reminded about how my recent relationship crashed and burned. Not to mention being lectured about Dabi. I’m not a kid.” 

“So you are worried he won’t come?” Nemuri asks curiously. 

“No!” you immediately protest, then pivot, fumbling with the straw in your drink. “I-I mean, not really. He just said he’d show up, so…I guess I was just hopin’ he’d stop by and congratulate me for the apartment since he helped me move in.” 

You had invited him, after all. This was last week on a very warm Saturday morning when the summer heat was thick. It was laundry day and you were forced to lug a pillow sack of dirty clothes in an elevator, sweating in your biker shorts, bonnet, and Spongebob tee. You were prepared for no one to see you that morning, but fate had other plans when the elevator stopped on one of the lower apartment floors. You were headed for the basement where the laundry mat is. 

The doors opened, revealing the last person you wanted to see that morning. “O-Oh!” you stuttered, taken by surprise by his sudden appearance. And the fact that he looked so goddamn hot. Dabi stood at the elevator doors in his usual black attire, except he had on sweats instead of joggers. You had to force yourself not to stare at his crotch. 

“Hey, Dabi,” you greeted him, giving him a smile. Dabi only gave you a nod as he stepped into the elevator. You didn’t take it negatively. That was just Dabi–he never said much. He pressed the button to the lobby before the doors closed, leaving you closed together in the elevator box. You could feel the four walls closing in with him standing so near, especially when his scent invading your senses. It was spicy yet sweet like cinnamon with a hint of cologne. It was turning you on badly. 

Dabi suddenly tilted his chin at the pillow sack. “What’s with the sack?” he muttered. “You got kids to deliver to or somethin’?” 

You quirked a smirk at his joke. “Funny,” you chuckled. He smirked back, shrugging passively. “I try.” Just like that, the tension faded. “Just laundry,” you sighed. “About two weeks’ worth. I’ve been puttin’ it off since I’ve been still setting up my apartment.” 

He nodded and you both fell into silence again that swelled around you. “Sooo where are you off to so early?” you asked, desperate to fill the horrible silence. 

“Just the station,” he replied blandly. “Why they decided to have a meeting at the ass-crack of dawn is beyond me.” You nodded and giggled to yourself, only imagining the shit he had to put up with as a firefighter. 

You gratefully smile at him. “Thanks a lot for helping me move. It made things so much easier.” He once again shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s whatever,” he mumbled. “And no, I don’t want your money. You need it more than I do.” 

“Ugh, you ain’t lyin’,” you groaned tiredly, your mind jumping from place to place. “I thought doing all the cleaning would be a lot, but I’m still getting used to the bills plus rent and groceries and…” You buttoned your lip and flushed embarrassingly, realizing you’d been talking for too long. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Not a good way to start your morning. Just tell me to shut up.” 

Dabi shrugged, not looking annoyed. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for. Your ex was a dick, end of story. Plus, hearin’ you complain about him isn’t the worst thing I’ve heard in the morning.” He looked at you, looking deadass. “Try gettin’ an earful of that blonde bitch singin’ in the shower when he’s not laid up with somebody.” 

You laughed then, glad you didn’t have Keigo spending the weekend with you; he chose Dabi for that. “How are your ears not bleeding?” you giggled. 

Dabi smiled at the sound of your laugh–a real, genuine smile that made him even more handsome. The moment quickly ended though when the elevator dinged and the doors opened to the lobby. “This is me,” he muttered, his smile disappearing. 

He began to head out, not even giving you a goodbye or a “have a nice day” or a “you look fine as fuck in those shorts, lemme get your number”. Nothing! Your heart thundered in your chest, realizing this may be your one chance to interact with him for more than five seconds. 

Quickly, you jammed the button to hold the doors open. “H-Hey!” you abruptly called out. Dabi stopped and looked over his shoulder at you. “I meant to tell you: I’m havin’ this apartment-warming party next Saturday night. It’s a house-warming, but it’s for my apartment and uh…” 

‘You’re rambling! Just get to the point, bitch!’ 

“If you wanna come, you’re welcome to,” you continued. “Keigo is coming, so I figured I’d extend the invite.” Dabi had an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at you as if trying to make sense of you. “So…other people are gonna be there?” he carefully asks. 

You blinked at him. What a weird fucking question. “Well, yeah, but just some of my coworkers and people Rumi and I know. It’s just a small thing, nothing too big. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but there’s gonna be food, music, a little bit of weed…” You trailed off, hoping the weed would get him since he’s a smoker. 

Dabi shoved a hand into his pocket and leaned back on his haunches. “I don’t really go to parties too much,” he admitted. “I’m not really a people person.” That definitely meant he wasn’t coming. “Oh,” you exhaled, disappointment blooming inside of you. “I get you. I just figured I’d–” 

“I mean, I’ll still stop by or whatever,” he interjected with a shrug. “Don’t I gotta bring a gift or somethin’?” You tried to stomp down the happiness flooding your chest, but you couldn’t help it. “If you want!” you chirped happily. “I like plants…wine…gift cards…Beyoncè tickets…just some ideas.” 

Dabi smirked humorously at your little witty joke. “Not sure about that other part, but I’ll see what I can do.” Then, without another word, he turned to leave. “I’ll see you later then!” you called after him to which he gave you a slight wave. Finally, you let the doors close on you, and though his goodbye was anti-climatic, you couldn’t get rid of your smile. 

Now here you are, two hours into the party and he still isn’t here yet. Keigo isn’t either but he at least said he was coming straight from work. “Don’t be upset if he doesn’t, Y/N,” Nemuri coos, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I haven’t heard of Dabi ever going against his word, he’s very…different.” 

‘Tell me about it,’ you think.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Nemuri continues, “but he’s not as much of a social butterfly as Keigo is, especially because of his accident. He might be afraid he’ll make people feel uncomfortable.” 

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, you freeze, your brain processing the meaning behind them. Dabi never talked about his accident, especially to you, but according to Keigo, he got those burn scars as a child after playing with matches one Christmas night and setting his house on fire. Supposedly, this was because he was angry that his father aka that redheaded bitch Enji Todoroki didn’t buy the family any Christmas gifts. 

Little Dabi found the matches sitting up on the mantel above the fireplace and ultimately set a spark that engulfed their home. Dabi was never the same after that, especially after nearly dying from the flames. Luckily, they left the left side of his face and body with scars–reminders of what happened. “He blames himself a lot for that night,” Keigo recounted. telling you the story some time ago. “Especially since his family lost so much. To him, he feels responsible for the fact that his family could’ve died in that fire.” 

Though Dabi has a great relationship with his family besides Enji, he’s always carried around the weight of that trauma. And those burns. He can never ever get rid of them. He’s forced to wear them and be scrutinized by the world because of his disfigurement. 

As soon as Nemuri’s words process, you feel sick to your stomach. “I never thought of it that way,” you confess, feeling horribly guilty. “Fuck, now I feel like a bitch! Here I am upset over him not coming when he owes me nothing, and yet–”

“Hey.” Like a light in the darkness, Nemuri emerges in front of you and firmly holds your shoulders. “Stop. You’ll ruin your makeup.” 

She hands you a napkin and you begin to blot your Fenty Beauty foundation, hoping your makeup didn’t slide. “Just take a breath, get yourself another drink, and have some fun!” she encourages. “You need a night to forget about your ex and meet somebody you can spend the night with. Here, I’ll even help you! I’m great at matchmaking.” 

You smile at her volunteering to help you get laid. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on scouting for dick tonight. I don’t feel like hooking up.” 

And you don’t. All you want to do is drink, dance, and celebrate your first big-girl apartment. “But I do feel like having fun!” you say aloud before taking a jello shot and throwing it back. The taste of vodka and artificial orange immediately hits your tongue, just as your favorite song blasts from the living room. 

“Ooooh, this is my song!” you squeal, already moving your body to the beat. Nemuri moves with you, happy to see you happy. “That’s the spirit!” she cheers. You two dance in the kitchen for a while until the doorbell rings. “Looks like more people came to congratulate you,” Nemuri giggles, squeezing your hand. “Go get it quick before the song ends.” 

You nod and take your drink with you as you hurry to your door. You already feel better after the quick dance session and some more alcohol. You feel like you could take on anything now. You swing open the door with enthusiasm, happy to have more guests. “Welcome to my…” you begin to shout, grinning at your guests standing at your door. 

But that smile fades when you see Keigo and Dabi standing at your door, each with a bag in their hand. As soon as Dabi’s cobalt eyes meet yours, you’re a puddle. “Home,” you weakly finish. 

“Wow, what a welcome,” Keigo chuckles. “Thanks for havin’ us, babe. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He leans in to give you a one-armed hug before releasing you. “Hope you don’t mind I bought the enigma along for the ride.” He nods at Dabi who looks oh-so uncomfortable and delicious in his black tee and jeans. His icy blue eyes flick to yours before looking away to somewhere beyond your face. “N-Not at all,” you reply softly. 

“And us too!” a familiar voice comes from behind Dabi. The voice belongs to his fine-ass brother, Natsuo Todoroki. You’re starting to think beauty runs in the Todoroki family. “Long time no see, Y/N!” Natsuo grins at you, running a hand through his snow-white hair. 

Another familiar face appears from around the corner though it is hidden behind shaggy, black hair that reaches his shoulders: Tenko aka Shiggy, with his tattoos and gauges. “That’s ‘cause your deep in those nursing books,” he tells Natsuo before turning to you, dark circles under his eyes. “You got smokes in here, right? I’ve been tattooin’ people all day and I need a reliever.” 

“Yes, and come in,” you giggle, opening the door wider for your four muscular, tall, fine-ass guests. They each walk in and you close the door behind them. As soon as they’re inside, Shiggy makes a beeline for the weed, leaving you, Dabi, Keigo, and Natsuo standing there. 

“Woooow, kid,” Keigo whistles. “Cute place you got here. I really can’t call you “kid” no more, can I?” He actually sounds upset about it. “Yep,” you laugh. “I feel like a big girl!”

“You should!” Natsuo chuckles, a smile growing on his handsome face. “Especially without that emotional vampire suckin’ the life outta you. Oh, before I forget…” He nudges Keigo who presents you with a paper bag. “Housewarming gift number one,” the second oldest Todoroki kid says with a grin. “Dabi has the other. C’mon and give her the gift, D!” 

Dabi glares at his brother, but pulls a little bag from behind his back. You look into both, finding a bottle of wine, a bottle opener, and some cute, multi-colored wine glasses in them. “Thank you,” you giggle. “I’ll drink it all tonight.” 

“So where’s the food and the pretty people?” Keigo asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. You roll your eyes at his sluttiness. “All in the living room. Rumi and Nemuri are somewhere around here if you want me to–” 

“Nah, kid, don’t worry your pretty head about it,” Keigo interjects, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll definitely find them. You stay here and tend to your new guest…he’s gonna need it.” He nods at Dabi before giving you a wink. “C’mon, Natsuo!” he hollers, taking the white-haired man by the shoulder. 

Natsuo gives you an apologetic look as he’s dragged off. “Take care of him, please?” he softly pleads before heading off with Keigo to stop him from harassing people. You turn to Dabi who looks ready to strangle them both. “Fuckin’ bitches,” he growls under his breath. 

Standing among the music and the chatter, you realize that you two are alone. Well, not completely, but enough that it feels awkward without someone starting the conversation. Nervously, you swallow, realizing you’ll have to be the leader. “I-I didn’t think you’d come,” you shakily begin. “You said you weren’t a people person.” 

“I’m not,” Dabi gruffly replies, “but I did owe you a gift.” Your heart leaps at his words despite his tone. “You really didn’t, but thanks anyway.” 

He nods once more, his eyes flicking up and down your form. When you catch it, your entire body grows hot. Does he think you look good? If he does, would he say it? It doesn’t appear he’ll say anything at all. You clear your throat once more, attempting to break the ice that is quickly hardening. “Uh…so you want a drink or a tour of the place? I’d feel bad if you were just standin’ here.” 

“What’s wrong with just standin’?” he deadpans, but you can tell it’s a joke. 

“Everything, unless you’re a plant,” you tease. You earn a little smirk out of him, but that’s about all you get. So you start to ramble. “The drinks are really good. Keigo knows the bartender, so–” 

“What?” he cuts in, straining to hear you. You lean in toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder to get closer to him. “I said Keigo knows the bartender I hired for the party!” you exclaim into his ear. “I also got catering if you want to–” 

You’re rudely cut off when someone bumps into you. She’s one of your coworkers from the HR department, but because she’s so drunk, she barely recognizes you. “Sorry!” she hiccups. “Bathroom!” Quickly, she runs upstairs to your bathroom, holding her stomach as she does. 

You turn to Dabi who looks even more uncomfortable now. You keep your hand on his shoulder, wanting him to know you’re here for him. He doesn’t move away. “I’m startin’ to think maybe you’re right about the standin’ thing,” he mumbles. “You got somewhere more private?” 

It takes a moment for his words to process, but when they do, you swear you could touch the moon. He’s here for you. To talk to you. And you know exactly where to go for it. “I know a perfect place,” you giggle excitedly. “Get yourself a drink and I’ll get some smoke. Meet me back here in five minutes.” 

Dabi looks relieved that you agreed. Quickly, he moves to the kitchen to get himself a drink, earning some eye-fucks in the process, regardless of his burns. Still holding your gifts, you make a beeline to the smoke section and force Shiggy to cough up the rest of the starburst-flavored papers and a baggie of weed. 

The crew is sitting on the couch vibing to the music when you come over. Keigo and Natsuo are in awe of Dabi, pouring himself a drink, actually participating. “So I see you got him to move!” Natsuo laughs. “It’s a miracle!” Rumi, currently holding Nemuri in her lap as she chats with someone next to her, gives you a smirk. “Where are you off to?” she asks suspiciously. 

You smile at her, unable to hide your giddiness. “To show my guest around. Hold down the fort for a minute.” 

“Maybe more than a minute,” Keigo snickers knowingly. Rumi nudges him with her elbow as you flush to yourself. “You’ve got it, captain. Go enjoy yourself and your man!” You turn away, skin still on fire. “He’s not my man!” you call over your shoulder as you hurry to gather something to loosen you both up. “Yet,” you whisper to yourself. 

Dabi meets you back in your previous spot with a red solo cup that smells of whiskey and sour apple. You motion for him to follow you out the door of your apartment and down the hall. “It’s right up here,” you explain, pointing up the emergency staircase. Dabi raises a quizzical eyebrow but follows you up the short flight of steps anyway. 

When at the top, you push open the door at the end of the staircase, revealing the rooftop to your building. The roof is decorated with comfortable sofas, mini tables, and fairy lights that hang among the rafters. The edges of the rooftop are blocked off by clear, plaster walls that serve as barriers between the inside and the outside. You shut the door behind you and turn to Dabi. “You know about this place?” you softly ask. 

He stares around the prettily-decorated rooftop, lips parted in awe. “Not at all,” he admits, bewildered. “I’ve been livin’ here longer than you and knew nothin’ about it, but then again, I barely come out my apartment.” 

“I’m a sucker for rooftops,” you confess. “That’s what drew me to this complex.” You walk over to him, staring out at the view before you: glittering city lights and the sunset; line of fuschia that dips beneath the mountains far off into the distance. It truly is a beautiful sight. You suddenly feel warm, as if someone’s eyes are on you and turn to see Dabi unabashedly staring at you. “Goddamn, you are short,” he snickers. 

You smack his arm, flushing. “Hey!” you gasp, mock-offended. “It’s not my fault I was given short genes! Just for that, you’re rollin’ for us.” You plop down on one of the couches and pat the empty seat next to you, motioning for him to sit. Dabi looks hesitant at first but sits down next to you anyway. He still appears tall even while seated. 

“You sure your crib is gonna be okay?” he asks as he begins to set up shop. You wave off his concern, trusting your guests. “Rumi and Keigo won’t let anything happen to it. Especially Rumi; she scares people.” 

He smirks at your answer and begins preparing a blunt, taking out a grinder and the little baggie of weed. You sip on your drink, watching him work, trying not to make it too obvious that you’re aroused. You watch him intensely, your eyes hypnotized by his fingers expertly sprinkling the marijuana into the paper and then working on rolling the blunt to absolute perfection. He’s so good with his hands. 

Your eyes trail up his hands to his arms, admiring the muscle beneath the dark ink on his skin. One tattoo, in particular, catches your attention: the number 58 with a green dragon slithering out of the eight. “Nice tatt.” 

“It’s my firefighter number,” he explains, eyes still trained on his hands. “The dragon is the department symbol. I inked it myself.” You don’t notice that you’ve gotten closer to him, your legs aimed directly at him. Your body is completely under his silent spell. “You do your own tattoos?” you ask, wanting to know more, anything more, about him. 

He nods, jetting his tongue out to lick the paper. It is pink with a glint of something in it. You realize that it’s a tongue piercing and your clit jumps. He suddenly stops rolling the blunt and points at a few words linked across his right collarbone. “This one is the first tatt I gave myself when I was sixteen. It’s Latin for ‘don’t let the past steal your present’.” He then begins to recite the words in Latin, his rolling tongue making the inside of your thighs feel warm. “I didn’t know you spoke Latin.” 

His eyes flicker over to yours, a softness to them. “There are a lot of things you don’t ‘bout me,” he murmurs, his tone low and sugary sweet to you. 

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the privacy, or him, but it allows you to be even bolder. You scoot even closer, your body so that your hip presses against his. He doesn’t move away, but you do feel him tense. “Hopefully, there are some you’d be willing to share,” you softly reply, hoping he’ll read between the lines and see how much you want this. 

Alas, he doesn’t say anything, but you do notice that his hip stays put. You don’t know if it’s intentional, but it has you feeling warm and tingly regardless. When he finally finishes the blunt, he lights it and takes a puff test before passing it to you. You take it gingerly between your forefinger and thumb and take a much-needed puff.

The smoke fills your lungs instantly and you exhale peacefully, watching the wisps of smoke disappear into the starry night sky. “Nothin’ like a blunt to ease the nerves,” you sigh contently, already feeling more relaxed. 

“Are you nervous?” Dabi asks. His arm is tossed over the back of the couch, right behind your head. “Around me?” You flush, passing the blunt back to him. “Well, kinda,” you laugh awkwardly. “You’re just so…” You grow quiet, trying to find the appropriate word. 

He takes a puff of the blunt. “Weird?” he finishes, quirking a brow at you as smoke billows from his mouth. He passes the blunt back to you. “I was gonna say quiet,” you reply. “I don’t think you’re weird.” 

Dabi shrugs, looking out into the city lights. “I just don’t have much to say, but you ain’t the only one who’s nervous. Like I said, I’m not much of a social butterfly; not even at work. That’s Keigo and my brother. They dragged me out here tonight.” His eyes, like twin pools of the bluest water in the farthest Caribbean island, flick to yours. “But to be honest, I would’ve come anyway.” 

You suddenly forget you’re holding the blunt and quickly place it down on the ashtray. “You would?” you ask, hating how breathless you sound. He shrugs like it should be obvious. “Well, yeah. I wouldn’t want that gift card goin’ to just anybody.” 

You scowl confusingly at him and he smirks humorously. “Look at the bottom of the gift bag.” You do so, and sure enough, you see a silver $100 Visa gift card glinting at the bottom of the bag. You take it out, staring at it. Dabi looks sheepish, planting his hand firmly in his lap as if he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It definitely ain’t a Beyoncé ticket, but I hope you like it.” 

Suddenly, the alcohol, the weed, and the scent of him begin to work their magic on you. All of your inhibitions and all logic are gone as you stare at his gorgeous, scarred face. “I love it,” you whisper, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Dabi’s cheek. You feel his soft skin and the slight prickle of stubble there before pulling away. 

He stares at you, shocked, and you stare right back as reality sets in. ‘Oh, no…what the fuck did I do?’ 

“Y/N,” he says, your voice like a prayer on his lips. But before he can finish his thought, your phone rudely interrupts him. “Fuck,” you hiss. “I’m so sorry.” You scramble to pick it up and find your ex’s name flashing across the screen. “Dammit!” you snap. 

“Who is it?” he asks, his brows furrowed. You show him, groaning with dread. “It’s my ex. I thought he stopped calling me, but apparently not.” 

“He’s been callin’ you?” he bitterly asks. He does not sound happy about this. You slowly nod to which he demands, “Put him on speaker.” You stare at him, wondering if he’s deadass, but he’s not looking like he’s BS-ing you. Despite your better judgment, you do as he says and put the call on speaker before answering your ex with a curt, “What do you want?” 

“Heeey, that’s no way to talk to your man,” your ex slurs into the phone. “What’s up with you?”

You scowl in disgust at his tone. “What’s up with you?” you shoot back. “Are you drunk?”

He snorts in response meaning he’s definitely drunk. “Not nearly enough. Just was thinkin’ ‘bout you bein’ alone in that big, empty apartment…but then I happened across your IG and saw your stories.” 

“Yeah, and?” you ask cooly. 

“You’re throwin’ a party a tour expense?” he snaps at the flip of a switch. “You want everyone to know what happened to us?” You roll your eyes. Everything is always about him. “Only my friends know what happened. And even if I tell people, it’s none of your business and you fuckin’ deserve it for cheating, dick.” 

He pauses, letting your insult process, but the longer he’s quiet the more tired you grow. “Is this what you called me for?” you demand. “To argue? ‘Cause I’m not in the mood.” He makes a sound over the phone between a sigh and a groan, sounding exhausted. “Can’t we just talk about this?” he asks. “I just don’t get why you had to leave. We had three years!” 

You scoff to yourself. The sheer audacity of this guy! Those are three years he decided to ruin; not you! “Can’t we just talk it out, Y/N?” he asks again, sounding absolutely broken.

Now it’s Dabi’s turn to respond. “There ain’t nothing to talk about,” he malevolently replies. “She already made it clear that she’s not interested in whatever you want.” 

Your ex is quiet for a moment, taken aback by the new voice. “Who the fuck are you?” he spits. “Y/N, who is that?” Your brain short circuits trying to find a legitimate answer. 

“Her new man,” Dabi growls. “And if you ever call her again, I’m pullin’ up to make you stop myself. You’re lucky I didn’t do that when I found out you stuck your dick in another chick. What are you, stupid?” You and your ex are silent, astounded by his words. 

“And if you even think about comin’ over here yourself, don’t,” Dabi continues. “Take that as my act of kindness to you even though you sure as hell don’t deserve it.” Your ex is enraged, cussing, and slurring into the speaker. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snaps. “You think you can just–” 

“Don’t call here again, whore,” Dabi growls before he gives you a slight nod and you end the call. As soon as the call ends, you set your phone down and voice the one question that is burning you alive: “Did you mean what you said?” you ask carefully. “That you’re my new man?” 

Before Dabi can even begin to explain himself, you softly, shyly, tell him, “‘Cause I wouldn’t reject that offer.” You lay your cards out flat, aroused by him defending you from your trash ex. 

Dabi gapes at you, shocked, and then a hardened expression sets on his handsome face. “You’re not serious,” he scoffs with laughter. “You’re not.” You scowl at him, disappointed. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “What do you mean?” you ask, confused. “You don’t think I want this?” 

“No, I don’t,” he replies sternly, suddenly standing. You can see the wall that you’ve been trying to destroy building back up. “I think you think I’m a weird, introverted loser that you wanna take a ride on because it’ll be fun for the first few weeks while you’re gettin’ over your breakup.” He shakes his head, laughing to himself. “You could never want me.” 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Why would you think that?” you softly ask, hurt for him. Dabi chuckles dryly. “C’mon now. Someone who looks like you with someone who looks like me?” He points to the scars on his face. “I’m not the man you think I am.” 

“I don’t think of you as anything, Dabi,” you passionately say, standing with him. “I invited you here because I want to get to know you more. I always have, even when I was with my ex.” He turns to stare at you, shocked at your words. There it is: the truth, laid out in the open with only the stars as witnesses. 

You move closer to him, gently taking his wrist in your hand. His body feels tense in your grasp. “Your scars mean nothing to me; they never did. Would you believe me if I said I’ve always liked you too?” 

You take your other hand and place it on his chest, right above his heart beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. “Now that I know you feel the same way, nothing is holding me back anymore.” You stand up on your tiptoes and again press a kiss to his jawline, right on a burn scar. “I can handle this, Dabi,” you murmur against his ear. “I like it rough.” 

That is all you needed to say to get Dabi to finally unravel. 

You can only let out a tiny gasp before he grabs you by the back of the neck and presses his lips against yours. His kiss isn’t soft or careful. His kiss his rough; hungry; slow as he draws moans and gasps out of you. He kisses you like he’s been dreaming of doing it for ages. His lips are soft, the taste of whiskey, apple, and mint on his tongue. You let his hands move along your back and ass, squeezing the flesh there and making you moan. 

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he slides his tongue alongside your bottom lip before slipping it inside your mouth. He moans hungrily as your tongue begins to swirl with his, swapping spit and exchanging breath. The act makes your pussy clench impatiently in your panties, wanting to be touched and petted. Dabi then pulls away enough to speak to you, his eyes hooded and dark. 

“How long have you felt his way about me?” he murmurs hotly against your lips. “Tell me.” 

His hand sneaks down underneath your dress to squeeze your ass. 

You let him, biting back a whimper in the process. You barely know him and yet you’re letting him touch you like this right in the open. “S-Since you helped me move,” you softly stutter. “But I’ve always been attracted to you since we met.” 

He begins to kiss you all over now: your neck; your jawline; your collarbone; your naked shoulders in your spaghetti straps. “Fuck,” he growls against your skin. “You’re too good to be fuckin’ true.” His hands roam up and down your hips and sides, squeezing and fondling. “I’ve been wantin’ your fine ass since we met.” 

“How come you never…?” The rest of your question doesn’t reach your lips as he grabs you by your hips and pulls you toward him, so close that air can’t even move between you. Your bodies are pressed flush against each other, so close that you can feel a bulge in his jeans. He’s turned on by you. The fact makes you delirious. 

His lips press against yours again as he walks backwards to the couch, never breaking the kiss, and plops down on it. He then grips you by the hips and coaxes you into his lap where you begin to straddle him.

His hands, so rough yet so warm, continue to fondle your thighs and ass, squeezing at the flesh and making you whimper into his mouth. Instinctively, you grind down into his hardened dick, enlisting a moan from deep within his throat. It travels right down to your pussy. 

Suddenly, he pulls away with a soft gasp. His eyes are lust-blown, his lips pinker than usual. “Hang on…I wanna try something.”

With one arm wrapped securely around your waist, he moves to pluck the blunt from the ashtray. “You ever shotgun before?” he asks. You blink dumbly at him, confused, and shake your head. “It’s easy. Lemme show you.” 

You watch with utter lust as he takes a long drag of the blunt, his eyes pinned on yours. Then, with one hand, he squeezes your cheeks, forcing you to form your mouth into an O. He leans in close as if he is about to kiss you again and, slowly, billows of smoke shoot out of his mouth and into yours. 

You’re trembling with need and anticipation as the smoke fills your senses along with the sight of Dabi’s crystal blue eyes staring you down. “Nice, right?” he chuckles. “Now try it with me.” 

You’re eager to try this new addictive activity, so you pucker your lips and puff on the blunt that he holds for you. Then, after inhaling a good portion of smoke, you slowly blow it out into his waiting mouth. But you don’t stop there. You lean in toward him and devour his mouth, desperate to have him. You’re wasted and high off of him. You pull away, leaving him dazed. “I want you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around him.  

“Bedroom?” he asks, a suggestive glint in his eye. “And before you ask, no, I don’t think you’re easy or that I’m a rebound. We already established that we’re two idiots who’ve been pinin’ after each other for months now.” 

His words make you smile. Though you weren’t at all thinking about if he saw you as “easy” or if he was just a lay to get over your ex, it’s so nice to hear that all he wants is you. This only makes your need for him grow until it reaches an almost painful point. Your throbbing clit is testament to that. 

“No bedroom,” you say, giving him an excited, sexy smile. “I want you out here.” Dabi raises a brow, not expecting your request. “Please, Dabi,” you plead. “I-I don’t think I can wait.” To show him that you’re serious, you begin to take down the spaghetti straps to your dress to reveal your bra. You don’t care if anyone sees. You just want him so badly. 

The shock in his blue eyes is replaced with sheer hunger when he gets a look at those perfect tits in the pretty little bra you have on. “You little freak,” he chuckles. “Hop off me.” You listen to him and settle down next to him as he gets up to inspect you. 

You bite your lip and watch him as he kneels down in front of you and opens your legs. When he gets a look at your soaked little panties, he almost looks pained. “Goddamn, mama,” he hisses. “You’re so wet for me. You don’t even need these little panties anymore.” His eyes flick up to yours and his hands still at your thighs. ‘Okay?’ his eyes ask. 

Wordlessly, you nod, unable to speak. But he isn’t down for that. He begins to brush his fingers up and down your wet slit above your panties, paying close attention to your reactions. “Words, baby,” he growls. “Gimme words.” 

“Yes!” you moan, your toes curling in your heels at the feeling of his fingers brushing your wet cunt. “Please, Dabi…please touch me.” 

He gives you a wolfish grin at your pitiful reaction, but doesn’t keep you waiting. He loops his fingers through the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs you reveal your naked, sobbing wet pussy. “Shit!” he hisses, gaping at your sex. “You have the prettiest pussy, babe.” 

“Thank y–!” Your words are cut off by a sudden gasp as Dabi leans in and begins suckling on your clit, eating your pussy like a starving man. He is relentless with his tongue slashes, flicks, and long licks up and down your slit. He moves his tongue like he’s a master at eating pussy, paying close attention to your reaction every time he does something new. 

You’re loving it. You writhe and grind your hips against his mouth, trying to get him closer. Your pussy pushes against his pillowy-soft lips and wet tongue that writes nonsense across your wet lips and needy little clit. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles into your pussy. “Does doin’ this shit out in the open turn you on, mama?” 

You moan in response, unable to form words, especially when he reaches one hand up to play with your breast. You take off your bra, hissing in pleasure as he begins gently pinching the hardened brown nipple. 

This is insane! You barely know this man and not only are you letting him do this to you, it’s all in public. Anyone could walk up and see you. Or look across from another building. Or up from the sidewalk. It’s so shameful. So nasty. And so, so good. 

It feels even better when Dabi begins to tease your entrance with his middle finger, dipping the tip in and out of your wet pussy. “You want this?” he asks, his voice nothing but a low growl.

You nod vigorously and he laughs. “So needy,” he teases as he begins to slowly slide his finger inside of you. “Your ex must’ve not be takin’ care of this pussy. He never made you feel like this, did he?” 

“N-No,” you gasp, eyes blown as you feel your pussy stretch slightly around his finger. He quickly begins to aim up to brush against your clit as he slides his finger in and out of you. Not only that, but he begins to suck at your clit, sending waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

You can feel yourself quickly beginning to reach that peak to your climax. You don’t want this to end. You want to make this moment last. “Wait, Dabi!” you shout, writhing against him. “Stop! Don’t make me cum!” 

He immediately ceases his movements and pulls away from you, glaring in confusion. “‘Scuse me?” he asks, not sounding happy with your protest. 

You nearly laugh at his reaction. “I wanna make this last,” you explain. “I wanna make you feel good too. So stand up.” Dabi still looks pissed he couldn’t make you cum, but listens to you anyway. He stands up, mouth and chin glistening from your juices, and you stand with him. 

Slowly, you begin to kiss and suck your essence off of his mouth, earning low moans from him. 

Your hands slide down to his broad chest and you grip his shirt collar. “Off please?” you ask, peering up at him through your lashes. 

You don’t even have to ask twice. In a flash, he’s stripping, tossing his shirt somewhere on the rooftop. You take a moment to admire his beautiful body–so hard and defined with muscle, ink, and burn scars that coat the left side of his body. His nipples, pink and hard, glint with two silver rings and his lower stomach is sinewy with white hair. He’s so, so pretty. 

He must think your stares mean something else because he averts his eyes. “I know it ain’t picture perfect,” he mutters, sounding ashamed. Your heart leaps with fear, hoping you didn’t ruin tonight for you both. 

Quickly, you try to fix things by gliding your hands up and down his hard body, admiring his well-defined pecs and abs. “You’re perfect,” you whisper before leaning in to peck his burn scars, running your lips softly over each. 

The low moans and “mmm”s Dabi release are delicious to you. They only heighten your arousal along with the sound of the party still going on downstairs. The music and chatter are muffled, but the fact that it is so still near is so exciting to you. 

You never saw yourself participating in public sex, but you suppose it takes the right person to bring the freak out of you. And you want to be the freakiest, sluttiest girl with this man.

To prove that, you begin to lick and suck along his hardened nipples, tugging on the tiny silver rings hanging from them. “Fuck, baby,” he hums, watching you as you work. His lips are parted and his eyes are hooded. He is completely entranced by you. 

You begin to kiss down his hardened stomach until you come to his jeans already hanging low on his hips. You stop, your hands at his fly, and look up at him. ‘Okay?’ you ask with your eyes. Slowly, he nods, giving you the green light. You pull his pants and his underwear down in one go, eager to see what’s underneath. 

You begin to think you bit off more than you can suck when you get a look at his cock for the first time. He is well endowed, thick, and curves upward so his dick slaps against his stomach when you finally release him from his trousers. White hair curls around his stomach and pubic area, but it isn’t like a jungle. But that isn’t what gets you: it’s the piercing that glints from the head of his dick in the moonlight. 

You gape at his cock, not sure what to say or do. “You okay?” he asks, humored. 

“Uh…” That’s all you can say. He’s just so, big! How can you get him in your mouth? You’re lucky you can even fit one hand around him as you begin to stroke him softly from base to tip. 

Dabi cackles down at you, relishing your fear. “Don’t be scared of it, mama,” he purrs, taking his dick out of your hand and waving it in front of you. You watch, hypnotized. Dickmatized. 

“You said you wanted to make me feel the way I make you feel, right?” he asks teasingly. “C’mon now. You can do it. Open that pretty mouth.” 

Not wanting to disappoint him, you open your mouth and he slowly begins to slide his dick against your tongue. “There we go,” he coos. “Good girl. Take it all in.” You try, your jaw and mouth stretching for his size. “I’m guessin’ I’m bigger than your mans, huh?” he chuckles lowly. 

“Mmm-hmm,” you hum around his cock, the vibrations causing him to moan. You relish the sounds, wanting more. So you begin to move your head back and forth, taking his cock in and out of your throat. You gag and spit all along his dick, causing saliva to drip down his balls and your chin, making your blowjob extra sloppy. 

Dabi tosses his head back and rolls his eyes back, giving you a sight that is fit for porn. He’s so sexy. And to be able to make him feel good gives you the motivation to ignore your aching jaw and burning throat as you continue to fuck him with your throat. 

“You’re doin’ so good, babe,” he grunts as he begins to roll his hips into your mouth. “At this rate, you’ll make me cum.” 

You nod your head, coaxing him to do so. You want him to cum. You want to taste all of him in your mouth. But he surprises you when he begins to slow down his hips and pulls his wet cock out of your mouth. “No,” he growls. “If I’m gonna cum, it either has to be on that pretty ass or those titties of yours.” 

You stare up at him, drinking in his spectacular body and dick standing at attention for you. You then decide that if you are to finally cum, you want it to be wrapped around his cock.

‘Fuck it,’ you think. You don’t care that you barely know him. All of that “getting to know you” shit can wait until after you get him inside of you. “Why not inside of me then?” you purr, standing up to take his hands in yours. 

He blinks at you, dumbfounded. “Without a condom?” he asks. “I don’t have one on me.” You shake your head, pecking his lips. “I’m on the pill.” 

That’s all you need to say to get Dabi to smash his lips hungrily against yours. “Oh, thank fuck,” he sighs, relieved. “I don’t mind beatin’ my dick to the sight of you in front of me, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want your pretty little pussy wrapped ‘round me.” 

His dirty words send shivers up your spine. “And you’re okay with this? I mean, we barely know each other and–” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls, already moving you back to the couch again. “I’ll take you out later, but right now, I fuckin’ need you. Now choose how I’m doin’ you before I lose my fuckin’ mind.” 

You gape at him, dumbfounded and so, so horny. You’ve never had a man be so desperate for you before. You waste no time bending over the couch, presenting your ass and dripping pussy for him. You then look back at him, finding him standing there and stroking himself to the sight of you. “Like this,” you whisper. “Fuck me just like this, Dabi.” 

Dabi is going fucking feral behind you. It takes everything in him to not shove every single inch of his hard, thick cock inside of you as he moves closer to you and begins to stroke your pussy with his cock. 

“God, look at you, stainin’ up the couch,” he sighs as you twitch and quiver. “Anyone could see you like this, about to get fucked hard.” 

‘I don’t care,’ you want to scream. Anyone can watch if they want. All you want is that dick inside of you now. 

And then finally, he gives it to you. He goes slow, taking his sweet time to allow you to get used to him. As soon as his cockhead enters you, your jaw is dropping open and your eyes are blown from how stretched you feel already. No toy could compare to how warm and solid Dabi feels snuggled up in your pussy. Not even your ex could make you feel this full or this good. 

Through it all, you breathe in and out, relaxing your body into the couch cushion. Though it doesn’t hurt, you’re feeling beyond stretched by Dabi and you almost collapse from the feeling. 

You’re so glad to have the couch to grip as he takes a hold of your hips and bottoms out inside of you. “F-Fuck, Dabi!” you whine, gripping the couch. 

He begins to bump his hips against your ass a little faster now, the sound of skin slapping filling the air as his heavy balls hit your clit. “Come on now, mama,” he huffs. “You wanna be a big girl, right? Take me just like one. Make me proud.” 

He begins to fuck you harder, taking a handful of your breasts and fondling them one at a time. 

The feeling is just too much. His dick strokes the most sensitive parts of you as your clit jumps with every slap of his balls against it. 

And he’s just so deep! He is making you see stars that don’t even compare to the ones coating the night sky above the beautiful view stretched before you. You have no chance to take it all in, too busy taking Dabi’s fat cock as he fucks you into oblivion in your little sundress and heels. 

“Feels good, don’t it?” he grunts into your ear. One hand moves to your ass to gently spank your ass, causing you to moan at the feeling. “Bet you’ve dreamed about this,” he growls to you. “Bet you wanted to get slutted out on my dick for so long. Bet you couldn’t wait for tonight. Bet you planned this.” 

He leans down toward you, his lips grazing your ear. “Bet you’ve wanted to be my good girl for so long,” he growls before his hand comes down on your ass a little harder. 

“God, Dabi, yes!” you scream out to the sky, gripping the couch for dear life as he fucks you harder. You’ve never felt like this before: so gone off that dick. Your eyes are closed and your mind is completely blank from the blinding pleasure you feel, each wave much bigger than the one before and washing over you. 

The pleasure is just too good, and it’s starting to reach a deafening crescendo. You can feel it building in your core, threatening to snap at any moment. “Gonna cum!” you practically sob, your head thrown back. “Gonna cum for you Dabi!” 

Dabi cackles behind you, putting a foot up on the cushion to get a better angle as he continues to fuck your pussy into submission. “Me too,” he grunts. “Want you take it. Take all of me like a big girl, baby.” 

He presses his lips to your ear, leaning down so his dick is hitting that spot that has you seeing the entire galaxy behind your eyelids. “Fuckin’ cum for me, mama,” he demands. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel. Cream all over that dick!”  

And you do. Moans and gasps leave your lips like a chorus as that chord finally snaps. You unravel, cumming all over Dabi’s dick. “Oh, my God!” you scream, your voice reaching heights fit for a shower singing session when you think no one is listening. 

You cream all over Dabi’s cock buried deep inside of you as he talks you through it, telling you how good of a girl you are as he strokes your outer thighs. 

“Gonna cum too,” he grunts, his hips snapping against your ass again and again as he chases his high. “You gonna take all of it, baby, hm?” 

“Y-Yes!” you choke out. “Please, please cum for me!” You begin tossing your ass back to meet his thrusts, wanting to feel him burst inside of you. Finally, he grips your hips for dear life and cums deep inside of you with a raspy, loud moan that makes your stomach leap and your pussy clench around his pulsing cock. 

You take every single ounce of his warm, creamy cum that shoots into your pussy, never once pulling away. You can feel it coating your walls, filling you up to the point where you curl your toes and shudder at the feeling coursing through your body. 

Finally, Dabi’s hips begin to slow until he is sloppily fucking you, chasing the rest of his high. Then with a soft groan, he pulls out, but it isn’t over yet. His cock is still hard as he begins to slide the head along your lower back and ass, coating your skin in his cum. “So you smell like me,” he softly says. “So no other man will even try.” 

You let out a weak moan as you feel his nut coat your skin and drip down your thighs, making them slick and wet. Finally, he releases you and you slump against the couch, exhausted and spent, but feeling so good. 

After giving you some time to compose yourself, Dabi helps you fix your dress (without the panties) and fishes a napkin out of his pocket to wipe his cum off of your thighs. ‘What a gentleman,’ you think, giggling to yourself. 

He seems sheepish and almost shy standing there, now in his briefs. “I didn’t…hurt you, did I?” he carefully asks. You slowly shake your head, still in a daze. “That was amazing,” you sigh. “I’ve never been fucked like that before.” A proud smile stretches across Dabi’s face. “Just whatcha needed?” he asks. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Absolutely,” you hum contently. “I hope it’s what you needed too.” He hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to the crown of your forehead. “That and much more.” You smile happily into his chest, glad that it was just as good for him as it was for you. 

For a while, you two stay like that: hugging in the warm breeze. Finally, Dabi clears his throat. “So…now what?” he awkwardly asks. 

“Well, we can’t go back inside like this,” you giggle. You motion to your dress still hiked up on your thighs and his semi-nakedness, though you’re sure that his physique would be welcomed. 

“And I think we both need to recover after those mind-blowing orgasms,” you purr, your pussy still sensitive from his dick beating it up. You curl up on the sofa and poke your bottom lip out at him. “Cuddle with me?” you coo. 

Dabi chortles at you, rolling his clear, blue eyes. “Such a baby,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky I like feelin’ you in my arms.” 

His sweet words make you flush in the breeze as he settles down next to you. He scoops you into his lap and securely wraps his muscled arms around you, squeezing you to him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. 

You feel the same way. You loop your arms around his neck and cradle his head to your beating heart. “So is a date in order after this?” he curiously asks. “I’m not too familiar with this shit, so…” 

You can feel the awkwardness radiating off of him. A laugh bubbles in your chest. Leave it to him to feel awkward about dating even though he just fucked you doggystyle on a rooftop! 

“Yes, Dabi,” you laugh. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” You feel him smile into your chest and he squeezes you closer to him, making you giggle. You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up in him. 

When your phone suddenly rings, you feel like shooting somebody. You whine as you grab your phone, Dabi keeping his arms wrapped around you so you don’t fall. “That’s Keigo,” you sigh. “I hope no one broke anything.” You answer the phone, going back to cuddling Dabi. “Yeah?” 

“So I’m guessin’ you made our guest feel welcomed?” Keigo immediately asks. “You two have been gone for, like, an hour.” 

“It hasn’t been that long, Keigo,” you scoff though you really don’t know what time it is. “How’s the party? Is my apartment still intact?” 

“Don’t you trust me?” he scoffs. “So you and Dabi are together now? I knew it was only a matter of time until he decided to pull up his big boy pants and tell you how he felt.” 

You scowl in confusion, your heart picking up speed. “How did you–?” 

“Know?” he finishes and gives a laugh. “Kid, I’ve known this shit for years! It just wasn’t my business to tell. However, you can thank yourselves because you saved time. Now everyone knows you two are an item.” 

Your eyes widen, hoping he doesn’t mean what you think he means. “Huh?” you dumbly ask, earning an eyebrow raise from Dabi. 

“Everybody totally heard you fuckin’ up there, sis!” Rumi yells in the background. You hear laughter from Shiggy and Natsuo in the background. You feel like hiding in a hole and never coming out. Everyone heard you?! Were you that loud?! 

“We turned up the music, but it could only block out so much,” Keigo chuckles, humored at your embarrassment. “I didn’t know you could get that loud. You ever consider singing?” 

“Goodbye, Keigo,” you growl, cutting off his cackle by immediately hanging up. You toss your phone to the side but not before turning off your ringtone. You don’t want anything or anyone ruining this moment for you. “What’d he say?” Dabi curiously asks. 

“Nothing,” you quickly reply. You slide off of his lap so you’re sitting next to him and snuggle back into his chest, holding him close. “Just that he’s an asshole.” 

Dabi chuckles, wrapping an arm around you as he puffs on the rest of the blunt, smoke billowing into the starry night sky above. “Well, that’s just a fact, babe.”  

THE END. 

he pulled out and groaned at the sight of your creamy cunt. a few times he slapped his swollen tip against your entrance, smearing his precum up and down your slit. then he slid back in so torturously slow that you could feel every inch and vein.

“y’know i think about it all the time,” he murmured against your spine. “how pretty you’d look knocked up. stuffed full of me. round with my baby. fuck.”

your moan was broken and high pitched when he shifted you. a moment later you were on your back, legs thrown over his shoulder, and his weight pressed you deeply into the cushions of the couch.

the mating press - his favorite.

yours too, because he always got so deep like this. his thick cock bullied your cunt like it belonged there. he was carving a home in you, and it turned you on. so fucking much.

“this is where you’re meant to be,” he said against your mouth shakingly. “under me like this, letting me fuck you full. you’re gonna take all of it, okay? gonna let me make you mine.”

“yes enjin. yours. mmm. you’re mine too,” you nodded, dazed and breathless.

your eyes rolled back as he pounded into you. his pace was so brutal and desperate at the same time. he was losing control. so close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts started to falter.

“gonna cum,” he warned. “where do you want it?”

“inside,” you whimpered. “please, please inside—”

that was all it took.

he growled your name and slammed into you with one final thrust. his cock twitched hard, throbbed, as he spilled deep inside your quivering cunt. warm wetness bloomed where you were already stretched and stuffed.

enjin didn’t stop moving. even while orgasming he rutted into you, grinding it in while his big hands kept your hips pinned down.

“just like that,” he whispered hoarsely. “fuck, take it. take all of it. gonna give you everything, baby. gonna keep going until you’re full.”

when he finally let your legs down he didn’t pull out right away. he kept himself buried inside you, chest to chest, golden eyes soft but still blown with lingering lust. you felt so safe there, wrapped up in his arms, flushed and fucked out and owned.

“you okay?” he asked, brushing sweaty hair from your face.

“yeah,” you whispered, “but i don’t think i can walk.”

he chuckled and kissed your forehead. “that’s fine. i wasn’t planning on letting you get up anyway. not until i’m sure you’re bred.”

you let out a giggle as he lifted you up. legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he carried you to his bed where you fell asleep, with you warming his cock the whole night.

or, so you thought.

your thighs were shaking as you slid out from beneath him in bed. the sheets were damp, your body slick with sweat and your inner thighs coated with the sticky mess he’d left in you. you winced as your core clenched involuntarily, still tender and full. you needed to pee. needed to clean up. every step to the bathroom left a drip down your thigh and all you could think was how much he’d given you. he always came a lot, but this time had been something else.

lately he had been more possessive than usual.

the rooms were dark and silent as you got to the bathroom. you didn’t bother with the light as you shuffled over to the toilet, but before you could sit down —

a presence.

you froze, an involuntarily scream tore from you. followed by an arm that snatched around your waist from behind, a hand covering your mouth before the sound could leave your throat. your wide eyes locked on the reflection in the mirror.

enjin stood behind you - tall, bare-chested - and wearing his fucking mask.

“‘jin—what the fuck—” came out muffled behind his palm.

“where do you think you’re going?” he growled in your ear, voice distorted and low beneath the mask. “you think i fucked you full just to let it leak out in the toilet?”

he bent you over the sink before you could answer. his hand yanked your hips back and you felt him already hard again, hot and angry against your ass.

“no. wait, please—” you gasped.

he shoved back inside you in one brutal thrust. you choked on the intrusion, nails scraping the edge of the porcelain sink as your eyes rolled. he didn’t give you time to adjust. just started slamming into you, his hips pistoning like a man possessed.

“you’re gonna hold it,” he hissed through the mask. “gonna keep it. i worked too damn hard filling you up, baby. you’re not wasting a drop.”

your mouth fell open, drool slipping down your chin as the pain-mixed-pleasure washed over you. his rhythm was cruel, merciless with sharp snaps of his hips that hit deep. his grip bruising your hips, fucking into you so hard the mirror rattled. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small bathroom, vulgar and raw. you could barely stand it.

“i love seeing you like this,” he hissed. “trying so hard to stay quiet while i ruin you. you scream, you wake the other cleaners.”

your legs buckled. your body shook. and when you came, it was messy and feral and devastating. you moaned behind his hand. no, you were crying, overstimulated and helpless. your pussy clenched around him as he kept fucking you through it. he groaned, hips stuttering, and you felt it again. hot spurts deep inside, mixing with the first load, making a mess of your insides all over again.

he didn’t let go until you were trembling and limp in his arms, forehead pressed to the mirror, mascara smudged, lips bitten red.

“you’re not cleaning up,” he whispered darkly, removing his mask just enough to kiss your shoulder. “you’re going back to bed like this. plugged up. dripping full. mine.”

he carried you there like you were breakable glass, even though five minutes ago, he nearly shattered you against that sink. you were absolutely boneless, babbling nonsense as he tugged you back in and made sure you didn’t leave the bed again.

the next morning you wake up to the smell of breakfast. you hear plates clinking and the soft hum of enjin whistling some random melody.

you shifted in bed, sore between your thighs and your body aching in that deeply satisfying way. but you also felt the tinge of overuse, the dull throb that told you last night’s bathroom session hadn’t exactly been…gentle. it had been hot. so fucking hot. but now?

“babe?” came a soft voice from the doorway.

you turned your head and there he was. shirtless, hair a fluffy, chaotic mess, carrying a tray with some bread, chocolate cream and two mugs of coffee. his eyes met yours and immediately dropped.

“oh fuck,” he mumbled. “you’re limping, aren’t ya?”

you laughed. “only a little.”

he looked wrecked. not in the sexy, post-sex way, but in the i’ve been pacing the hallways thinking about how hard i railed you while wearing a mask way.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, walking over and setting the tray on the nightstand. “i didn’t mean to get so rough. i saw you leaving the bed, and i… i just snapped. you were leaking and i thought—fuck, i just got this thing in my head and i didn’t stop to ask if—”

you silenced him with a kiss. “it’s okay, enjin,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “you were hot. a little crazy, but hot. i liked it.”

he let out a relieved sigh and kissed your knuckles. “i just wanted to take care of you this morning. thought i’d make breakfast, rub your legs, maybe beg for forgiveness if you were still mad…”

you grinned, slowly sliding the sheet down your body, revealing the curve of your hips, bare and inviting. his eyes locked onto your skin like it owed him money.

“well,” you murmured sweetly, “since you’re already being such a good boyfriend…”

he blinked at you.

“hey, babe?”

his breath hitched. “yeah?”

you leaned in closer, brushing your lips along his jaw. “three times is the charm.”

his brain short-circuited. you didn’t have to ask again. he set the tray aside, climbed onto the bed and hovered above you. his expression a soft mixture of reverence and hunger. this wasn’t the man from last night. this was your enjin, all warm, sweet, heart pounding with love and cock already hard between your thighs.

he guided himself to your entrance and slid in slowly while he kissed your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids. your leg curled around his waist, the other over his shoulder. the mating press wasn’t brutal this time. it was tender and deep. his body pressed you down into the mattress, hips rolling with slow, reverent purpose.

“still full of me,” he whispered, watching your face as he moved. “but i wanna give you more. want you to feel how much i love you.”

you whimpered. one arm wrapped around his neck, lips meeting his again and again. his pace never quickened. he gave you long, dragging strokes that had your toes curling and your heart clenching. he kissed your tears when they came, overwhelmed and overstimulated in the best way. his praise was quiet and endless.

“you’re perfect.”

“you take me so well.”

“this is where you belong. right here. with me.”

when he came, it was with a shaky moan and a broken “i love you,” and you felt it pulse deep inside - warm and full, just like his heart.

he didn’t move for a long time. he just held you, buried in you, murmuring promises into your skin.

You froze, feeling the heat of him, the weight of his presence as he crowded you from behind. His breath, hot and slow, danced over the back of your neck.

“H/N...” you started, but your voice faltered. He was too close. His lips brushed your skin, barely a touch, sending shivers that rattled your entire frame.

“What?” he whispered, his lips teasing your ear. “You gonna tell me to stop again?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your pulse pounded in your ears, every inch of your body aching for him. You turned slightly, enough to meet his gaze, to see that familiar smug smirk curling on his lips.

His hands slid down your waist, gripping you firmly, like he owned you. He turned you to face him, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a tremor through your chest.

“I thought you liked it when I don’t stop,” he murmured, his lips curling into that damn knowing smirk again.

Before you could reply, before you could even think, his mouth crashed down onto yours—deep and commanding, his hands pulling you against him. There was no room for hesitation, no space to breathe. His kiss was rough, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough, and soon the sound of dishes crashing to the floor was drowned out by the sound of your hearts pounding in sync.

He was relentless, his hands moving with purpose, gripping you in ways that left you breathless. Without breaking the kiss, he backed you against the kitchen counter, his body pressing you down. His lips trailed down your neck, marking you with his heat, his hands sliding under your clothes, touching, claiming.

"Please, don't stop," you gasped, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He smirked again, that devilish glint in his eyes, as he pulled away just long enough to strip you bare. The roughness of his actions made your blood burn with anticipation. Every touch, every kiss, was as if he was showing you that you were his.

He pushed you down by your shoulder onto the floor. You smiled and reached for his belt, undoing it, unzipping his pants. You dragged your index finger over his clothed length, giggling once you saw the wet spot made by his pre-cum. He grabbed your wrists, stopping your teasing.

“M'not in the mood for teasing,” he said, taking out his thick cock with his other hand. He tapped it on the side of your face, looking at your expression. He could see all your need, your desperation.

You bit your lip, struggling to hold back the moan threatening to slip out, but it didn’t matter. He knew exactly how to push you past the point of control. His hand tightened in your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your neck, and you couldn’t help the breathless moan that escaped your lips.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with need, as he stroked himself, “Begging for it without even realizing.”

“You know what to do,” he ordered, his voice laced with authority.

There was no hesitation in you. Obedience was all that mattered. You took him into your mouth, the rough, salty taste flooding your senses. He groaned above you, his grip in your hair tightening, forcing you deeper with each thrust.

"That’s it… just like that," he rasped, his dominance unwavering. The more you moved, the harder he pushed, giving you no reprieve, no space to breathe. Each thrust was a reminder of his hunger, his insatiable need for you. You gagged as he pulled you forward, holding you there for a few moments, making you feel the full weight of him.

He pulled back and, gripping your hair, dragged you closer again. With a swift motion, he slapped his dick across your face, groaning at the sight of you beneath him. Your eyes were glassy, pleading, showing all your want for him.

“Such a good slut… gonna let me fuck your throat until I cum?” His voice was dark, but there was no question in his tone. He knew you’d do whatever he wanted.

You answered with a soft hum, your mouth opening obediently as you stuck your tongue out, ready to do whatever he asked.

He didn’t waste another second. As soon as you opened your mouth, he was pushing forward, forcing you to take him deeper. The pressure was almost too much, but he didn’t give you a chance to back away. His hands gripped your hair, holding you steady as he thrust harder, his body moving with primal hunger. Each movement was deliberate, a reminder that he was in control.

You couldn’t help the way your body responded—every inch of you trembling, your pulse racing. His groans above you made your stomach tighten, the sound of his pleasure mixed with your gagging and hums. It was intense, overwhelming, but it was everything you craved.

"Fucking perfect," He muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watched you struggle to keep up with his pace. His grip tightened in your hair, forcing you to take him deeper with each thrust.

He wasn’t gentle, but you didn’t want him to be. The rawness of the moment, the way he took what he wanted, made every nerve in your body sing with need.

You gasped for air as he pulled you off of him, just enough to let you catch your breath before he shoved you back down, claiming your mouth again. There was no room for anything but his dominance, his desire for control over you. Every thrust was a test, pushing your limits, making you surrender completely.

"You’re mine," He started, the words a command, a promise. His fingers dug into your skin as he pulled you closer, holding you against him, making sure you could feel every inch of him. "All mine."

His thrusts came faster, harder, leaving no space between you and him. The world outside of him seemed to disappear—there was only the sound of your breathless gasps, his growls, and the way your bodies moved together. You were his, and you loved every second of it. After a while the sounds he made became guttural and he shot thick rope down your throat. "Oh, fuuuck," he said feel you continue to suck him while he came. When he finished you took him out of your mouth and started stroking his dick and sucking his tip.

He let out a low chuckle, rubbing the top of your head with his hand. “Mmk, mama, that’s enough,” he said, pulling out of your mouth and hauling you up by your arm.

He was hasty. As soon as he had you by the hand, he was dragging you toward the bedroom, the heat of his body pressing against you as you stumbled behind him. Each step felt like it was dragging you deeper into the intensity, the sound of his heavy breathing and your racing pulse filling the space between you.

He didn’t speak, just guided you forward with that commanding force, his grip on your hand firm, unyielding. The door to the bedroom clicked shut behind you, the room dim, lit only by the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the window. The bed lay just ahead, an inviting expanse of soft sheets, but it wasn’t the bed you were focused on—it was him.

His presence, his weight, his dominance, all wrapped around you like suffocating heat, making you ache with need.

He turned to face you, his eyes dark with hunger, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His fingers curled into your hair again, this time not with roughness, but with the intent to pull you closer, your bodies nearly touching, his breath warm against your neck

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and rough, like he was savoring every second. “You want me, don’t you?”

You nodded, words caught in your throat, your body trembling with anticipation. But he wasn’t done. He stepped back, taking in the sight of you standing there—vulnerable, yet willing. His fingers brushed over your skin as he slowly undressed you, each motion deliberate, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

He pushed your shirt up, the fabric slipping over your shoulders, the cool air prickling your exposed skin. He paused, his gaze trailing over you—hungry, assessing. His touch skimmed down your arms, brushing your sides as he leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, just enough to make you shiver.

He wasn’t gentle, not now. His hands gripped your shoulders, pushing you down onto the bed, the mattress soft beneath the heat of his body as he hovered over you. His lips found yours again, fierce and demanding, though there was an edge of tenderness in the way he kissed you—rough, but not careless.

Each kiss was like a battle, his tongue sweeping in, claiming, tasting, testing your limits.

He climbed onto the bed and spread your legs over his thick thighs, rubbing his cockhead up and down your slit. “Baby, you're soaked and I haven't even fucked you properly. Messy slut,” he said, probing your entrance, teasing you. You tried to push down, desperate to sink onto him.

"Uh-uh, be patient," he rasped, pinching your sensitive nipple. You whimpered, squirming beneath him.

Voice breaking with need, you called his name,“..please, fuck me,” you begged,

He smiled.

“Yeah, pretty girl, you want me to fuck you?” he teased.

You nodded eagerly, desperate.

"Okay, baby," he said, voice low and mocking, before finally pushing into you, slow but relentless. You felt your walls clamp down immediately at the thick intrusion. He groaned, driving all the way in, bottoming out until you both moaned in unison. He spread your legs wider and started fucking you at a brutal pace, merciless and deep. Every shift, every thrust, was a reminder that he controlled every moment, every inch of your body.

You couldn’t stop moaning and whining as he pounded into you, each sound ripped straight from your throat.

"Mmm, fuck, ma, look," he growled, grabbing your chin and tilting your head downward. "You're making a mess all over my dick, filthy girl."

Your moans got louder, more high-pitched.

“Ah—Ahhmgh—!” you cried out, the pleasure blinding.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe when he pushed down on your lower stomach, fucking you harder. “Shiit—slo-slow downnn,” you whined, trying to push his hand away.

"I thought you wanted me to fuck you?" he snapped, voice rough and unforgiving.

“Mmm, yeah, I—I know,” you stammered, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

"Okay then," he snarled, "shut up and take what you begged for, little whore."

You whimpered at his words, overwhelmed. It was too much—he was too much. The tension inside you both coiled tighter and tighter. Every kiss, every thrust, sent you deeper into the haze, and you couldn’t remember what it felt like to be apart from him.

Your walls clenched down hard, your body starting to shake uncontrollably beneath him. Your body seized up beneath him, every nerve alight as your orgasm crashed into you, violent and uncontrollable. You cried out, your voice raw and broken, as your walls clamped down hard around him, milking his cock with desperate, helpless spasms.

“That’s it, baby... fuckin’ cum for me,” He rasped, voice strained as he felt your body shudder under him.

You tried to breathe through it, but he didn’t stop—he kept fucking you through your orgasm, brutal, relentless, dragging every last bit of pleasure out of you until your thighs trembled and your nails raked down his back.

“W- wait—ahh—! I-I can’t—!” you sobbed, overwhelmed.

He grabbed you by the throat. “You can. You will.” His hand closed tighter, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you gasp. Your head spun from the pressure, from the pleasure, from the feeling of it all. Without giving you a chance to recover, He pulled out, his grip rough as he manhandled you onto your stomach.

"Up. Ass up," he ordered, voice sharp.

You scrambled to obey, too wrecked to think, your body moving on instinct. You barely had time to get onto your hands and knees before he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you back against his chest. His thick arm wrapped around your throat, locking you into a headlock that made your breath hitch—tight enough to make your body flood with adrenaline, but never so tight you panicked. He knew exactly how far to push you.

"You like this, don't you?" he growled against your ear, dragging his cock through your soaked folds again. "Getting fucked like the filthy little slut you are."

You whined, a broken, desperate sound, and he chuckled darkly, pleased. Then without warning, he slammed back inside you, forcing a sharp scream from your lips as he stretched you all over again. Your arms buckled, your cheek pressing into the mattress as he pounded into you from behind, his arm locked tight around your neck, keeping you trapped against him. Every thrust was punishing, brutal—perfect.

“Squeezing around me so tight,” he snarled into your ear, punctuating the word with a savage thrust that made you choke on a sob.

“Shiit, you feel so good,” he groaned.

You could barely breathe, barely think—your world was reduced to the feel of him owning your body, fucking you raw, dragging you through pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. Your second orgasm built fast, overwhelming, and you sobbed against the mattress as it crashed into you even harder than the first. Your whole body spasmed, locking down around him again as he fucked you through it mercilessly.

"That's it," He groaned, his hips stuttering, chasing his own release. "You gonna cream all over my dick again, baby? Yeah, fuck—milk me just like that."

You couldn't even answer—you were nothing but wrecked moans and incoherent whimpers, completely at his mercy. It was so good. Too good. He didn’t slow down—if anything, he got rougher, fucking you through the aftershocks of your orgasm without mercy.

Your body was hypersensitive, every drag of his cock making you jolt, making you cry out, but he didn’t let up. His arm tightened around your throat, his other hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

“That’s it, ma ” he groaned, voice deep, guttural, feral. “Such a good fuckin’ girl—my girl.”

The words, the force behind them, sent a new wave of heat crashing through you. You were his. Completely. And you loved it. He slammed into you harder, hips snapping against your ass with brutal precision, the wet, sharp sounds of skin against skin filling the room alongside your desperate, broken moans. Your legs started to shake again, your whole body threatening to collapse under the weight of him, but he didn’t give you a second to breathe. He adjusted the hold on your throat just slightly, tugging you back against him, forcing you to arch into every savage thrust.

"Gonna cum inside you, pretty," he hissed against your ear, his cock battering your insides, thick and relentless. "Gonna fuck you till you can't even think straight."

You sobbed, helpless and needy, loving every brutal second of it. And then you felt it—his pace stuttering, his grip bruising, his breath going ragged. He was close.

He thrust into you one last time, balls deep, his body jerking as he came with a rough, broken groan, filling you up with thick, hot spurts.

You could feel it leaking out around him almost immediately, your body too wrecked, too stretched to hold it all in.

He held you there, trembling and gasping, for a moment longer—his arm still tight around your throat, his length still twitching inside you—before he finally loosened his grip, letting you collapse onto the mattress. He stayed pressed against your back, heavy and solid, his breath hot against your ear. For a minute, the only sound was your combined breathing—rough, shaky, spent.

Then he shifted, his touch softer now. One big hand slid down your spine, soothing the sting he’d left behind, smoothing over the places he’d gripped you too tight. "You alright, baby?" he rumbled, voice still low but gentler now.

You nodded weakly, your body too tired to speak, but he still waited for you to catch your breath, his hand stroking lazy circles over your hip.

After a moment, he eased out of you, careful despite the roughness he’d shown just minutes before. You whimpered at the loss, and he chuckled under his breath, tugging you closer against his chest. He pulled the covers up over you both, tucking you into his side. His hand found your hair, he gave it soothing strokes.

"You did so good for me, mama," he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of your head. "So fuckin' good." You clung to him, still shaking a little, but safe, grounded by the steady thump of his heart against your cheek. He didn’t let go—not even for a second.

You mumbled something against his chest, but it came out broken and slurred.

He chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound that rumbled through his whole body. "What was that, baby?" he teased, tilting your chin up so he could see your dazed face. "You talkin' shit after I fucked the brains outta you?"

You tried to glare at him, but it was weak at best. Your eyelids fluttered, your lips parted, but no words came out—only a tiny whimper that made him smirk wider.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said smugly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "All fucked out. Can’t even talk back."

He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle you too much, and tucked you even closer against his chest. His big hand slid up and down your spine, slow and steady, grounding you. You finally managed a whisper, voice hoarse from the roughness of earlier: "You’re mean..."

He laughed. "Mean?" He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, dark and glinting with amusement. "That's what you call begging for it? Cryin' on my cock?"

You groaned, burying your face into his chest to hide your burning cheeks. He laughed again—low, rough, and pleased—rubbing your back with a little more pressure.

"Don’t worry, baby," he murmured, voice softening a bit, "You did fuckin' perfect. You always do."

You shivered under his praise, the heat between your legs still throbbing faintly. "Tomorrow," he whispered against your ear, voice dropping even lower, "I’m gonna fuck you again. Slow this time. Gonna make you feel every inch, mama. You’re not gettin’ away from me."

You whimpered, a needy little sound you couldn’t hold back, and he just grinned, wicked and loving all at once. He shifted, pulling the covers tighter around you both, his body wrapped around yours.

"I'll clean you up...get some sleep," he murmured, his voice the last thing you heard before you slipped under, spent and wrecked but safe in his arms.

"I’m not goin’ anywhere."

Part 2

Dividers by @cafekitsune and @enchanthings

▶︎ WIBTA for fucking the Gojo twins again? (oneshot — 10.8k wc)

After losing your precious attention to his dorkier twin brother Toru (nerdjo), Sato (fratjo) decides to take matters into his own hands by corrupting his brother into being more like him. Unfortunately for him, Toru’s too strong willed to fall for his tricks and Sato ends up being the one with quite the personality switch by the end of the night. (pt. 2 of the fic above this)

▶︎ Cameraman!Gojo & Pornstar!Geto (short)

Getting distracted by the cameraman while your costar fucks you.

▶︎ Wet Frames (ft. nerdcho) (oneshot — 7.4k wc)

In which flirting with your tutors goes oh so horribly right wrong.

˗ˏˋ GETO SUGURU’S FILMS

▶︎ To Paris (ft. gojo satoru) (short)

Getting sandwiched in between your boyfriends but, one is really mean to you and the other just showers you with praises.

▶︎ Luv Punnani (short)

Your boyfriend gives you a “pussy inspection”

▶︎ Pornstar!Geto & Cameraman!Gojo (short)

Getting distracted by the cameraman while your costar fucks you.

˗ˏˋ SUKUNA RYOMEN’S FILMS

▶︎︎ Morning Dew (short)

Domestic morning sex in the kitchen with your grumpy husband.

▶︎︎ First Time? (oneshot — 10.5k wc)

When you get paired with your campus frat’s resident asshole, Sukuna, for a project, the last thing you expect to learn about him is that he’s a damn virgin! Nor did you expect to be the one to change that.

˗ˏˋ TOJI FUSHIGURO’S FILMS

▶︎︎︎︎ A Nonsense Christmas (short)

Letting Santa give your mouth a white Christmas.

▶︎︎︎︎ Speechless (oneshot — 8.7k wc)

In which your annoyingly dense roommate catches you moaning his name in the shower and finally does something about it.

˗ˏˋ CHOSO KAMO’S FILMS

▶︎︎︎︎ Plug!Choso who… (headcanons)

▶︎ Wet Frames (ft. nerdjo) (oneshot — 7.4k wc)

In which flirting with your tutors goes oh so horribly right wrong.

▶︎ Wicked Games (oneshot — 9.2k wc)

In which you have the Kamo twins wrapped around your pretty finger. You tell them that you’re not theirs—not officially—and for a time, it works out. Choso (nerdcho) was your sweetheart of a project partner who was steadily falling for you and Kaiso (fratcho) was the younger twin who finds your side at every party you attend. What could possibly go wrong with two brothers who had no idea they were sharing the same girl?

˗ˏˋ NANAMI KENTO’S FILMS

▶︎︎︎︎ Holiday Loving Husband!Nanami who… (headcanons)

︎▶︎ Big Annoyances (short)

Comforting Nanami about his biggest insecurity.

˗ˏˋ EXTRA//OTHER CHARACTER FILMS

▶︎ Tyrant, every time I ride it (starring . Dabura) (short)

Using his horns like handlebars while you ride him.

▶︎ Body (starring . Higuruma Hiromi) (short)

Your sweetheart of a boyfriend becomes a different person during sex.