#schmuck thoughts

Simon dares you to; “Show me how you fuck yerself, love.” His eyes half lidded as you shyly guide him towards your bedroom.

You pull out a hairbrush (you’re broke shush) and Simon chuckles, muscular frame climbing the bed to hover over you, lips dangerously close to yours. “Don’t tell me that’s what you stuff inside your needy little cunt?”

Blushing you ask, “W-what’s wrong with it?” Earning you another deep, rumbling chuckle from the man above you. His scarred hand takes the brush, wrapping around the entire thing with a hum.

Of course, Simon being Simon, built like a six foot three tank, still manages to lift more than you. He pushes you on every machine you use, hitting more new pb’s after one session with him than weeks of working yourself.

It’s specifically when he’s watching you do squats that he concocts his brilliant, evil plan.

Once you’re legs are officially dead you two head back to your shared flat, Simon’s big hand switching between the gearstick and your thigh the drive back.

Finally, the second you’re through the threshold of the door, Simon hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. He doesn’t say a work as you wriggle around questioning him, until he tosses you carefully onto the mattress with a half lidded gaze. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts, watching you panting and sweating like ye do when ye struggle to take my cock.” He groans, palming the bulge in his grey sweats, lips quirking into a smirk when your breath hitches.

He crawls over you, who obediently spreads your legs for him, but he tuts. “Nah, don’t think you pushed yourself hard enough.” He grins, and in a split second he’s on his back and your straddling his lap, thick fingers giving your waist a squeeze before he settles his hands behind his head. “Go on, ride me love. Since yer legs are so strong, you shouldn’t have a problem, right?” He quirks an eyebrow, knowing you’ll take the bait.

His words cause your lips to jut out in a pout, brow furrowing in determination. You fiddled your way out of your clothes, pulling his sweats and boxers down to free his hard cock, twitching as the cold air hit it. Simon swallowed thickly, grunting when your soft hand wrapped around him to position him at your entrance.

He sucked in a sharp breath, feeling how wet you were as you sucked his tip in, pausing with a whine. He chuckled, trying to hide how affected he really was. “Too much, love?” His smirk widened further when you shot him a glare, thighs trembling, burning as you continued to lower yourself on his dick.

Simon was big, in every way possible, so it took you a minute before you took him fully. Simon’s groaned, hands finding the fat of your hips now he was buried deep inside you. “Fuck, that’s it love, takin’ every inch. Such a good girl.” His voice was strained, raspy as he struggled to hold back the urge to bounce you on his cock like a fleshlight.

The praise went straight to your core, clenching tighter around his dick with a whine. The combination of Simon pressing against all the right spots inside you, paired with your aching legs rendered you as close to immobilised as a person can get. Your eyes found his, needy and desperate. “P-please Si’.. can’t do it..” Your hands clawed at his muscular chest, feeling his hands tightening their hold in your hips.

“Yeah? What’d you need me to do, pretty?” He sat up, burly arms encircling you, caging you to his chest as his lips found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouther kisses along the sensitive skin. “C’mon love, please what?”

He knew what he was doing, turning your brain to mush, but god the way your teary eyes stared at him so pleadingly caused his cock to twitch inside your gummy walls. Some sadistic side of him loved seeing the physical evidence of you needing him in such a visceral way, which was why he had to be a little bit mean earlier.

“Please fuck me Si’..” You finally managed, and within a second you were once again on your back, Simon’s big hands hooking under your knees to force them back into a mating press, cooing when you whined at the stretch.

His cock slid back inside your needy hole, grinning as he watched it stretch to accommodate him. He chuckled, bringing a thumb to swipe at your clit just to see you jolt at the pleasure.

One night when sneaking in the usual way he’d become so accustomed too, he’s plucking the world-renowned ‘Brother Blue’ from it’s place on the wall when he hears a shaky “S-stop!” From behind.

Instantly tensing, he tugs the frayed purple mask back over his nose and turns, icy blue gaze locking onto you… Tilting his head curiously, eyes narrow in on the artist badge hung around your neck, a flicker of something passing imperceptibly over his expression.

You try and hold your ground, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed into a pout. Of course you’d heard of him, hence why you insisted on having a key to the gallery, refusing to display your work in case the shadow of a thief got their hands on it. Somehow though, you never expected to come face-to-face with him. His eyes feel like they’re scrutinising you the way they would a painting, as if assessing your value, your worth, looking for the deeper meaning in your expression.

For what feels like forever you’re stuck, frozen in place until you swear he smirks, though his mask makes it nearly impossible to tell. “I-I’m calling the police.” You all but declare, eyes drifting from him for but a moment to yank your phone from the confines of your pocket, only to find him—and the painting—gone when you lift your head.

Already on the next rooftop, Dabi tugs down his mask, crooked grin stretching across his lips as he peers through the museum’s skylight to watch you looking around in a confused daze. “Finally, something of value.”

——