Work Text:
Three days after the Paranormal Liberation Front crashed the internet with the video of Dabi’s reveal and backstory, he’s consumed your every thought. Seeing him showing all of his scars to the world, unveiling the trauma of his past, rejecting a society that abandoned him… it made you realize how deep your feelings for him truly went.
The two of you weren’t dating - he’s inconsistent and moody and he struggles to form attachments or keep commitments. It’s a situationship at best. But, the two of you know connection. It was unexpectedly strong, and very disorienting. You’d met by happenstance eleven months ago at a corner store in your neighborhood. He didn’t say anything that first time, just stared. Maybe he had been trying to make you uncomfortable but it hadn’t worked, so you’d stared back. The moment he smiled at you, your life was forever changed.
He came around every so often, claiming to be bored. In the beginning, maybe he’d stay for a few days. He’s always been private and you didn’t pry. You should have put it together when he would disappear for a week, then a few weeks, even a month occasionally with brief visits in between. You should have known he was involved in some big shit. You just never imagined it would be this big.
You miss him when he’s gone. His poignant cry to all of Japan was the first time you’d heard his voice in six weeks. It was clear now why. And while you by no means attempt to claim his attention or his time, you still felt a pang of hurt that he had never mentioned any of this. And while this recent separation had you the most concerned you’d ever been about him, after seeing that video, you knew he’d come again.
It was three days later that the latch on your bedroom window separated and the sound of the glass sliding upward woke you from sleep. Your bleary eyes clear and you groan softly.
“Dabi?”
“Yo.”
You feel weight on the mattress and sit up. You’re not sure if you’re dreaming. You yawn and say, “You changed your hair.”
“I changed it back.” he corrects with a smile. He’s looking at you expectantly, like a kid holding out a drawing they’re proud of. But he doesn't say anything. God forbid he betray the slightest emotion to you. God forbid he shows you he cares.
You sigh. “I saw the video.”
His eyebrows move a fraction, this microexpression is the smallest glimpse into how he’s feeling.
“And?”
The irritation you’ve been feeling at his absence surfaces and you say “And you looked crazy as hell in it.”
He stares at you for a moment and then smiles. “You already knew that, babe.”
There’s a silence in which you stare at him before saying pointedly, “You have more scars.”
His expression seems to go from amused, to annoyed. “That’s all you’re concerned with?” He scoffs. “Were you even paying attention to a word I said?”
“You said Endeavor is your father. That he’s a monster that abused and neglected you and your family. That Hero society has failed us, wake up, oppression, sheeple and all that and you have more scars.” You stare at him like you’re waiting for an explanation. Because you are.
He rolls his eyes. “You waitin’ for me to play into whatever bullshit you’re insinuating?”
“I’m waiting for you to explain why you have more scars.” You say with an intense stare. “I know the enemy did not put those on you.” Now it’s an accusation.
He sucks his teeth and gets up. You can see his hair is not the only change. He’s wearing an airy white outfit with a deep split in his shirt. Or perhaps it’s a coat fasted by the belt along his hips. He leans on your dresser and stares at you, seemingly irritated. You don't break the silence this time.
“What?” he eventually demands.
“You’re wearing white.”
“Nothin’ gets past you huh?” Sarcasm.
Typical.
“Dabi.” you say firmly but quietly. You know the Villain doesn’t do anything without intention. You know what wearing white means in his culture.
He doesn’t answer, just crosses his arms. “I wouldnta come if I knew you were gonna be like this.”
“Be like what? Concerned?” You’re sitting up in the bed, moving the covers aside. “This is the first time you’ve come to see me in months.” The unspoken fear and feelings of abandonment hang in the air between you. His blue eyes glint and he smiles how he does when he’s being a Villain.
“Aw, did my little doll miss me?”
You frown. “You know I did.”
Your bluntness seems to intrigue him further. “How precious. I can just imagine how many nights you sat there waiting for me. Maybe I should’ve stayed away longer, you woulda thought I'd never come back.”
Something about the mocking edge to his tone strikes an anger that you’d been restraining. “Get out.” You say coldly.
He laughs. “Not a chance.”
You stand up and walk wordlessly past him towards your bedroom door. He says, “Hey, I’m still talking to you.”
“I don’t have anything else to say.” You say emotionlessly as you open the door.
He groans and follows you into the kitchen. “You obviously do since you caught a fuckin’ attitude so goddamn fast.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath, you don’t get it.” You say and you mean it literally, that he wouldn’t be able to understand why you are so upset. That he doesn’t understand why what he said was so cruel. That you indeed had feared for his safety. That you still do.
“Look, babe, if you want me to go, you can just say that. No need for all the theatrics. I know when I’m not wanted, if you hadn't noticed.”
His snide retort boils your blood and you turn a very angry expression on him. “I already told you to get out. Instead you’re following me around. Why?”
He seems confused. “Oh shit you really are mad.”
“Keep making fun of me and I’ll show you how mad I really am.” you snap, your grip tightening around a mason jar you were filling with water.
His eyelids dip seductively. “Maybe I will. It’s fuckin’ hot when you get violent.”
You send him a very dark glare, frustrated that he’s not responding to your threats the way you’d hoped. “Don’t start with me, Dabi, I’m not in the mood. I’m trying to talk to you and you’re hurting my feelings.” Honesty helps, depending on what mood he's in. He’s staring at you, thinking very hard. You’ve learned to read him. When he keeps that expression and walks towards you, you take a step back. He keeps walking towards you, staring like he’s trying to see through you, or maybe he already has.
His hands on your waist makes you look away. You know he's going to try and sweet talk you.
“I’m sorry your feelings got hurt.” he says and while this is a shitty apology from anyone, it’s almost a damn miracle for him. So you decide to look at him. He smiles.
“I don’t wanna fight, babe. Just let me…” He pulls you closer to him by your hips. One hand stays there, the other hand goes to your face with gentle but additional intention. “... make up for being away, yeah?”
His lips press to your cheek and your whole body tenses. It’s always like this when he’s near. It’s so easy for you to be affected by his touch, his warmth, his voice. He kisses your jaw. Then your neck. His eager hands wander. He whispers “Just let me…” as he begins to kiss down your body. The clothing you wore to bed is thin enough to feel the heat of his mouth almost as if his lips were touching your skin directly.
“Dabi…” You say with a tone that indicates you weren’t done talking.
He doesn’t stop. His mouth continues until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. “What? You like it when I do this, don’tcha?”
“Yeah, but -”
“Then shut your mouth and enjoy it.”
You feel the fabric of your bottoms slide down your thighs and legs as he pulls them down. He smiles with infuriating self-satisfaction as your bare body is revealed to him.
“You knew I was coming~” he flirts.
“No, I didn’t.” you say and it’s only a half-truth because -
“Ah, I see. You hoped.” He suddenly rises and picks you up as he does. Your ass hits the kitchen counter and he steps between your legs. “Glad I could actualize that desire for you.”
Before you can respond, he’s kissing you. The rough skin of his bottom lip drags across yours and when he adds his tongue, it gets harder to hold onto that anger you’d been feeling. His touches and kisses increase. You feel his hand against your open thigh. He whispers against your neck. “Don’t be mad, babygirl.” He only calls you that when he knows he’s upset you. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”
His tongue presses flat against your neck and drags upward. His mouth is always so warm, it’s pretty easy to turn you on. A fact that he exploits every time you fuck. So you don’t respond. You refuse to let your body betray any of your true feelings. He doesn’t seem bothered and continues to move his hands along your body. He massages your inner thighs and his other hand squeezes one of your tits. His thumb brushes intentionally over one nipple, the sensation sends flutter through your body. He exhales with such satisfaction as he feels your nipples harden beneath his fingers.
His touches always start like this, calm, slow, gentle. He likes to poke and prod, to touch and tease, to drive you mad, slowly. He likes to work you up, to get you to the state he loves the most. So when he continues to fondle your chest, his teeth scrape along the side of your neck. Though the brush of his other hand against your crotch barely counts as contact, it ignites a lustful anticipation within you. It feels good, but you don’t want to show him yet.
He knows you’re holding back and pulls away slightly to look at you. Your eyes meet and he takes in your defiant expression, offering you a smirk in exchange. He leans in a little closer and his fingers run along your slit, grazing your clit in the process. Pleasure tingles in the area but your expression doesn’t crack.
“Feelin’ stubborn tonight, huh, babe?” His fingers travel towards your opening, pressing lightly, seeking a reaction. He grins when you give none. “It’s okay, you don’t have to speak.” He presses one finger into you slowly. “You should save your voice for all the screaming you’ll be doing later anyway.”
“Cocky bastard.” you grunt.
“Spoiled brat.” he retorts and pushes his finger deeper inside you. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp as he adds another finger. Dabi chuckles. “Really, babe? You won’t moan for me? Even when you know how much I love it~”
The way he moves his fingers is meant to elicit those beautiful gasps and moans that he’s addicted to. More than anything, he finds your stubborn behavior tonight entertaining. He likes when you resist, he likes the tension, the pushback. He likes breaking you down. He likes being responsible for the absolute mess he’s planning to turn you into.
He sets a slow pace. He’s so close his lips are barely touching yours, giving you the least amount of pressure possible while remaining connected. His eyelids are lowered and the blue of his irises has diminished, dimmed by his growing arousal.
His other hand plays with your nipples through your night shirt briefly before he presses it to the back of your neck to keep your head in place. He keeps his mouth at that frustrating distance as he speaks.
“C’mon doll, don’t do me like this. You know I need to hear you.”
Your mouth parts as his fingers work, but only to assist your breathing. He takes the opportunity to fully kiss you and push his tongue into your mouth. Suddenly, you feel his hand withdraw and the previous tension disappears, your body able to relax a little. His kiss builds a strange intensity between you as he steals your mouth in messy licks and targeted bites. He smirks.
“You may not want to talk but it’s alright, your body is loud enough.” he whispers against your mouth as he wipes your wetness from his fingers onto your thigh. “Maybe a different set of lips will open for me instead.”
You can’t move your head with his hand pressed firmly against the base of your neck, but you can look away. “That’s not hot.”
He smirks. “Don’t worry, it will be soon.”
Then he’s on his knees, head shamelessly encased by your thighs before you can challenge him. He puts one of your legs over his shoulder. It’s damn-near sinful to see his face between your thighs, looking up at you from where he’s on his knees between yours. He grips your hips and yanks you towards the edge of the counter, towards his mouth. He licks you once, slowly, and you watch the tension and arrogance melt from his features like magic. Like a cure. Like a peace he only knows when he has you like this. He hums a little against your skin.
“I missed the taste of your cunt on my tongue.” He says it bluntly and the look on his face is so honest, you almost break your silence. The way he grips your thighs makes you lean back on your elbows to keep balance. He doesn’t even wait for you to adjust, just sighs so contentedly as he buries his tongue in the wetness he so diligently built up. He eats you like a treat, like he’s been craving this, like he’ll never have it again. He moves his tongue along the contours of your pussy. His tongue licks up the sticky separation of your lips as he uses it to spread them apart. It consumes your wetness. It trances your entrance. He licks a flat stripe right up the center, then pauses to suck on your clit.
Your head hangs back and you’re breathing so hard to keep yourself from making noises. He looks up at you with a somewhat blissed expression.
“Still holdin’ out on me, huh?” He smirks and your cum against his lips gleams in the white light of the kitchen. “Ya know I can always turn up the heat for ya.”
“Or maybe… we could talk… like adults…” There’s far less weight to your words as you speak them through light pants.
“I am talking to you.” He says and he’s making that face he makes when he thinks he’s being clever. Most because he’s pushing his fingers back inside you as he does it. “You’re being too damn obstinate to hear what I’m sayin’.”
“Oh, I’m being obstinate? I can’t believe -”
His mouth latches to your clit and you find that the comment he made earlier about turning up the heat was literal and, really, you should have known. His mouth always runs warmer than the average person’s But this time, he’s put some heat into it. It doesn’t burn but goddamn it’s hot. It’s hot like his body, hot like his flames, hot like the look that he’s giving you from between your legs as he works that pussy.
He changes the angle of his wrist and his fingers brush against that special spot inside you and you break. Your hand covers your mouth to muffle a sound as he pushes his tongue against your clit. You hope he didn’t hear the small moan you caught with your hand, but he did.
He speaks against your body. “Good girl.”
"We- we need to t-talk, Dabi.” Your voice is breathy and more unstable than you want it to be. He presses against your g-spot and you moan deeply, feeling everything contract in a singular coordinated reaction.
“We are talking, doll.”
“Asshole… you, you know… what I mean.” you grit out but you know he’s won this round.
“Mmm.” he hums patronizingly, pulling his fingers out to spread your lips and lick between them. He does it and feels very excited by the noises you’re making. “Tell you what, doll,” he says and those fingers slip in and out so easy now. “You go ahead and cum on my tongue, and we’ll talk about whatever you like. How's that sound?”
You don’t trust it. But, fuck, his tongue is back on you and his fingers are dragging you towards the orgasm he wants. You nod at him and fully relax, which pleases him greatly. For a few minutes he just buries his face in it. You’re making sounds freely now and because he likes that shit, he moans against your body. You tremble as everything gets tighter - your muscles are trying to warn you.
“D-Dabi-”
You can feel him grinning. “Gonna be a good girl for me?”
“I- mhmm~”
He puts your other leg over his shoulder and adjusts so that he can use gravity to get you there. “Come on baby, you can do it.”
He encourages you as he alternates all his movements to speed up the process. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by the pleasure he’s creating for you. Then he sticks his tongue inside you and thrusts it once, twice, and then you’re cumming. His tongue rides the waves of your orgasm as he drinks deeply from your body.
When he licks it off his lips, he looks sooo satisfied. When he licks it off his fingers, he looks almost drunk. His eyes gleam. “I want more.”
You’re catching your breath, trying to stay focused but he takes advantage of your disorientation. He stands up and you taste yourself all over his mouth when he kisses you. When he grabs your waist, you think he’s going to carry you to the bedroom. But he only makes it to the couch and drops you on your back. You stare up at him, unamused unlike him.
“You got what you wanted, now we’re talking.”
He kisses your neck, settling himself between your thighs. “Fine.” He doesn’t say anything else, but you know by the slower pace of his movements and the hanging silence that he’s listening.
And suddenly, you’re struggling to talk. You know once you say it out loud, it becomes real. This particular concern is one you’re dreading, even fearing, to the point of anxiety. One you never want to experience. After a while, Dabi leans back and stares at you with impatient eyes.
“Just say it.” he demands with an irritated tone.
“Are you planning on dying?”
A few emotions cross his face, all simmering in his intense gaze. “What kinda stupid question is that?”
You roll your eyes. “Let me be more direct: are you going to kill yourself?”
His eyes widen slightly. He looks like he could be angry about the accusation, like he might be upset. You’ve only made him upset once before and it had been… a lot. But this is too important. It’s worth whatever reaction to know. But his expression remains blank, his eyes seem to be assessing you. The silence becomes too loud and so you say, “The last time you were here, you said you’d get revenge no matter what. You told me not to be surprised if I never saw you again.”
He’s staring, the only insight into his thoughts is the slight squint of his eyelids. He looks down, not at, but on you. You say, “And then your broadcast filled in the gaps. That stuff with your dad-”
Suddenly his hand is around your throat. It’s not a tight grip, it’s just a warning. You swallow but remain calm. His lips form a derisive smile and he says coldly, “You got a lotta guts to say some bullshit like that to me.” His vice is low, indicating his anger. But it doesn’t deter you. You stare back, stubborn and unyielding.
“You’re wearing white.” You repeat.
He pulls away and a jolt of panic goes through you, that he might slip away again, leave again. But instead, his eyes stay on you as he pulls the fabric of his shirt from both shoulders. You watch as he unzips his pants and slowly disrobes. His clothing drops to your living room floor.
“There, now I’m not wearing anything.” Dabi returns to his place between your legs and you can feel his impatience pressed against your inner thigh. “Better?”
There are a lot of conflicting feelings happening for you right now. Your body is so attuned to his, anticipatory and craving. But anxiety has wrapped itself around your heart. The way he caresses your face, so gently, is a drastic change to his usual practices. Before you can respond, his mouth is on yours. You know what he’s doing, he’s trying to comfort you. His kisses move from your mouth, to your jaw, down your neck, chest, until his lips enclose around a nipple. You groan, “Dabi-”
“What?” he murmurs against your skin, not bothering to stop his teasing. His tongue flicks out against that same nipple and you shudder.
“I don’t…” Your voice is suddenly thick with so many feelings you’d been ignoring since the first time he laid you down. “I don’t want-”
He pulls off and his fingers continue where his mouth has stopped, giving shallow, pleasurable thrusts. “Don’t even try it, doll.” he says and his free hand presses fully against your pussy. “I know you want me, I can feel it.”
“I don’t want you to die.”
He freezes at the confession. It seems to finally click that you’re not letting this go. Mostly he’s irritated that it's getting in the way of what he wants, what he needs, what he came to you for. He contemplates how to respond before he leans back and spreads your legs.
“That’s what you’re so worried about?” he says dismissively as he uses your hips to pull you closer. He’s hard and he lets that hardness rest against your pussy. “How touching.” he says with a mocking chuckle. He pushes one finger against your clit and you have no choice but to moan.
He likes this. He likes watching all of your reactions to his touch. He loves knowing that your cunt is wet, throbbing, begging, because of him. He gets off on knowing how much he means to you. He’s distracted by the way your pussylips have swollen, how tenderly they hug his shaft between them. He hears you calling him, but he’s not paying attention. He presses his tip against your opening and feels excited when you moan his name instead.
“Oh I like that much more~” he coos, pressing a little deeper inside.
You’re frustrated that he isn’t taking you seriously. “Dabi, please-”
“Don’t beg for my attention, y/n, it’s pathetic.” he says and he seems to only partially mean it because he slides in a little more and you both make sounds of pleasure. And only when he’s fully inside you, when your legs are over his shoulder, when he’s bent forward so that your foreheads nearly touch, then and only then does he say very softly, “Don’t waste your time worryin’ about me. I died a long time ago.”
Then he’s moving. A few thrusts and your head is thrown back against the couch cushions. You want to ask more. You want to tell him that there are other ways. You want to tell him that there’s at least one other person who cares about him. But over the sound of your thoughts is the sounds of his cock moving in and out of you.
Your head is swimming. Images of his blue eyes fill your mind. You remember every time you’ve ever connected like this. Because he’s right, your bodies communicate so fluently in this language you’ve created. When he leans back and pulls you into his lap to thrust up into you, you feel his desire for you so acutely. His lips at your neck whisper encouragements. His hands grip your hips, bruising, demanding. His moans in your ear speak of devotion to the pleasure you share.
But you speak in desperation. “Dabi, you can’t-”
He shushes you. “No more talking.” It’s a command, but it’s gentler than normal. “Just listen. Just feel me, let me show you everything you need to know.”
You want to protest more but the way he’s got one arm wrapped around your waist, the way he holds you in place as he gives a few slow thrusts, the way he’s kissing you and his warm tongue tastes your mouth, makes it hard to argue. So you don’t. You relax into his grasp and he hums with pleasure.
“Good girl.”
In this headspace, you’re his and he knows it. But just to remind you, his scarred hand rises to cradle your head. His fingers tangle in your thick hair, leading your head back, and he moans against your throat before biting down.
“Fuck!” you swear, because it’s a hard bite, a possessive claim with his teeth.
He soothes this sweet pain with the flat of his tongue. With a whimper, you cum again.
“Ngh~ Just like that~” He speaks so quietly, you almost didn’t hear. And you can feel him still hard inside you.
Maybe it’s the rush of endorphins or the oxytocin clouding your mind. Maybe it’s the way his blue eyes are looking at you like you’re perfection, like burning stars that praise the very sky they rely upon. Maybe it’s the sight of his white clothes on the floor, crumpled and discarded. Whatever it is, you reach for him. You wrap yourself around him and he grunts, finding himself suddenly deeper inside you as your legs wrap around his waist.
A flood of emotion has taken hold of you and you won’t let him go. Truthfully, if he wanted to, it wouldn’t be difficult to extricate himself from you. But he seems more surprised than anything. Then he sees the tears on your cheeks and he sucks his teeth.
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.” Neither of you address the obvious emotions your expression is revealing: frustration, fear, concern, vulnerability.
He rolls his eyes and you’re in a stalemate, locked together. “Look, I don’t owe you anything. I’m not your boyfriend.”
“Never said you were.”
“Then why-”
“Because you’re planning to die to get what you want, aren’t you?”
There’s an almost imperceptible shift in the way he’s regarding you. Finally he sighs. “I’m not gonna let myself get killed, so would you just fuckin’ drop it already and let me fuck you?”
You glare at him. “Liar. You’d do anything to get back at your dad.”
His eyes narrow. “Now how would you-”
“You wanna come up in here and say I’m yours, no one else can fuck me like you do, this pussy belongs to you- all that bullshit. And you think it don’t go both ways?”
Now he was surprised. He stares for a moment and says in a voice that’s quieter than expected, “Nobody has a claim to me. I don’t belong to anyone.” and you can hear the words he’d never say.
Nobody wants me.
“Wrong. You belong to me, dumbass, you’re mine.” Your mouth on his swallows his protest and you can feel the twitch of his cock within you. He liked that shit. So you put your fingers in his hair, you kiss his face, run your tongue along the split skin of his mouth and jaw, bite his ear, your soft growls declaring “Mine.”
He seems amused. “Oh, so you do want me, huh doll?” He gives a sharp thrust to take back control.
You moan. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
“I mean it.” you moan, as he continues his movements.
“So do I.” he moans back tauntingly.
“Gods, you’re so fucking stubborn. Why can’t you just-”
He kisses you to shut you up. “Calm down, babe. You want me, you got me, alright? Goddamn.”
“You’re not going to do anything stupid?”
He smirks. “Eh.” and then laughs at your hostile expression. “Stop trying to be my damn mother and be my babygirl instead~” The command comes with swift movement as you find yourself on your stomach. He leans over you as you demand, “What the hell?”
His body covers yours and his intense heat sends your senses on edge. Something primal is telling you you’re in danger. You suck in air and freeze as his hand comes up to rest against your throat. His voice grates like gravel underfoot when he speaks.
“Open your mouth.”
Your brain tries to register what’s happening. You feel him reach down and part your legs, seemingly to get to your pussy. The shallow thrusts of two fingers two knuckles deep drags a moan out of you. He’s just playing with you, toying with your body as he waits for you to comply.
“Don’t make me tell you again.”
The threat sends a shudder through your stomach. You open your mouth.
“That’s better.” he comments indignantly. His hand is back on your throat, reaching up to hold your chin, sliding two fingers into your mouth, the very same he’d been sliding in and out of your pussy moments before.
“You taste that, doll?” His mouth is so close to your ear, you pull back just a little. The pads of his fingers push against the back of your tongue, stroking it inside your mouth. “Answer me.”
You nod, unable to speak as he holds your tongue, a small sound of confirmation escapes your throat. You can feel his smirk against you. “Now why would I go and off myself if it meant never getting to taste this again?”
You moan helplessly and his raspy voice praises you. “Good girl.”
“I think I much prefer this, when you’re listening and waiting for more.”
“You do want more, right?”
Of course you do. You nod and inhale as his fingers slide down your throat, trailing saliva from where it’d gathered against your lips. His hand continues to move until it’s against the base of your neck, shoving you forward. Your legs move wider apart and the press of his thighs against the back of your own is the only warning you get before he pushes inside you. The entry is rough but the penetration is deep. He got you feelin’ things you don’t wanna feel. The sound you make is a guttural and he sighs in your ear.
“Yea, like that, take me deep~” He grunts and fuck, he sounds so pleased to be deep inside you, his favorite place. Fuck he likes feeling how your body tightens around his cock, adjusting to its size. “Oh shit,” he groans. “Wait, wait, y/n, whatever you just did, do it again.”
You have no clue what he’s talking about. But it doesn’t seem to matter as he gives a single thrust. He returns his hand to your throat as you moan, squeezing lightly.
Usually when he takes you from behind, it’s with your ass in the air and your face in whatever surface he’s fucking you into. But this time is different. Your body is against the sofa, his hand around your throat, pulling your head back so your back arches. But the position doesn’t stay as such for long. By your neck he guides you, groaning, refusing to disconnect. The other hand goes to your hip as he whispers, “Kneel for me babygirl.”
“Dabi!” you gasp as he opens up your body. Now he has access to everything he wants. His grip tightens and air comes less and less.
“Oh I know you like that, y/n. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”
Oh, when he says it like that, his lips right against your ear, his cock buried so far his balls slap against you, his large hand cradling your breath, it’s enough to-
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum…” you say softly.
He loves that shit.
“Mmh, right on my cock, huh?” His hand moves from your neck to your hair, pulling your body flush against his chest. He moans in your ear and you can hear he’s getting close too. And you’re so close and his hands on your body feel so good and he’s fucking you just how you like and he’s so so fuckin warm, oh fuck, his fingertips move against your clit and his tongue on your neck and and and-
“Dabi!” You shout as you crest that mountain of pleasure, as the avalanche of sensations ripple out around Dabi’s dick still moving inside you. He doesn’t stop, his voice pitches a little higher as he feels your orgasm. A growl leaves his throat and what was slow and deep becomes urgent.
“Oh fuck, y/n, that’s it. Thatta girl.” he praises roughly. His hands move to your hips and your body loses his support as you fall forward and brace yourself on the arm of the chair.
“Dabi…” you call for him and he must sense something in the way you speak because he snaps, “Not another word til I finish taking what’s mine.”
Another twist of movement and you’re on your back, legs pushed to your chest, his hips working to get that dick as deep as possible. Working so when he cums, it’ll fill any emptiness he leaves behind.
But you’re stubborn so you grab his face to crash your lips together, tasting, feeling, consuming the pleasure, each other, the moment that you hope never ends. But it does, as everything will.
You know he’s about to bust when laughter bubbles up from his throat, viscous and feral. “I know you love this shit. Say it, baby, tell me what I wanna hear.”
“I’m yours.” you say immediately, eyes rolling, trying to keep up.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours!”
“Damn right-” he says and his words stutter and break as he moans deeply, a breathless chuckle ghosting his lips as you feel him release everything he’s been holding back inside you. Those last few pumps of his throbbing cock is an ecstasy you never want to be deprived of.
He doesn’t pull out. But he releases your thighs and rest his entire weight atop you, kissing your throat. You don’t mean too, but your pussy clenches around him.
He seems amused. “You just can’t help yourself, huh?”
You don’t respond, lost in thought, trying to quell feelings that shouldn’t be there. He doesn’t push and you lay there in silence, recovering. You let your fingers run through his white hair, scratching his scalp how he likes.
“You promise?”
“Hmm?”
“That you won’t…”
It’s harder to say this time for some reason..
He stares at you, and it looks like he’s thinking, trying to figure something out. “What would you do if I did?”
What would you do?
“Miss you.” That was an oversimplification but you didn’t want to risk saying anything else. Although, perhaps that was enough. The edges of his lidded eyes raise, exposing more of the dense dangerous blue that’s been disrupted by your honesty. His throat works and you can tell he’s swallowed some sort of emotion.
“Fine.” he finally says. At first you think he’s agreed to not harm himself, but then he adds, “I’m yours, I guess.” With a sudden yank, you are pressed against his body, strong arms wrapped around you. It’s not what you wanted to hear, but it spreads a strange mixture of pride and fear in your chest. You let his body keep you warm as the tendrils of sleep slither across your mind.
You turn into his body so your chests are pressed together. “Don’t leave.”
He sighs. “C’mon babe, you know-”
“Don’t leave until I can say goodbye.” You push your face in his chest, feeling his heartbeat, hoping it won’t be the last time. “Stay til morning.”
His body relaxes, cradled in yours. You feel him suddenly release all tension, seemingly relieved he won’t have to argue with you. When he speaks, his voice is tender in a way you’ve never heard and everything left unspoken claws at your heart.
“Til morning then.”