Latest Posts by bisuzukki - Page 3

there are three kinds of fanfic:

i can fix it

i can make it worse

horny

Last Summer 

Last Summer 

“Sooo..Date me” - a bakukami fic

Hey everyone, here’s another fic, this time a bakukami! I apologize for any grammar mistakes! Hope you enjoy! 

Summary: Bakugo makes a blunt statement and Denki doesn't know how to respond or why Bakugo would say those words.

“So…date me.”

Denki blinks. He opened his mouth to speak, unable to find any words; he closed it again, unsure how to respond to that blunt statement. It wasn’t as if the curt tone threw him off—that tone was simply Bakugo’s regular voice—but the words themselves that made Denki’s swirling mind freeze and gape at Bakugo. His pencil fell from his grasp, and it rolled across the desk, and it dropped to the ground, a harsh clank against the flooring, it rang in Denki’s ears, breaking the echoing silence.

He stares at Bakugo, and Bakugo begins glaring at him, his lips turned down into a slight frown, almost like a pout, and Denki wants to reach across the desk and touch it and force those pink pouty lips into a smile, or at least the most equivalent version of a Bakugo smile. Either way, Denki wants a Bakugo smile thrown in his direction, whether it was the soft, fond one that plays at the edge of his mouth or the one that curls and his teeth are baring like a tiny chihuahua baring its mouth to a stranger—either one would still make Denki’s heart flutter at sight.

Tilting his head to the side, Denki laughs out his answer awkwardly, “What?”

Bakugo was leaning back in his chair, touching the desk behind him as his eyes flicker over Denki’s face. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. His top buttons, as always, opened, showing off his glistening skin, and Denki swallows. His fingers twitch against his thighs, wanting nothing more than to run his fingers up Bakugo’s chest, linger against the skin and slowly button the shirt to its proper form. Denki clenches his hand, letting the nails dig into his palms.

His eyes flicker back to Bakugo’s, and he sees a growing, mischievous, cocky, smug smile that has Denki holding back a groan and his nails trying to break the skin. Denki hated how much he found Bakugo Katsuki attractive. He wants to kiss that smirk off his face and leave him breathless the same way Bakugo leaves him.

“I said,” Bakugo pauses, arching an eyebrow, a smirk plastered on his face that makes Denki’s breath hitch. He lets his chair fall forward with a sudden smack, and he leans across the desk, pushing the abandoned notebook and book across, creating a distance between the two. Red eyes never waver from Denki’s, and from beneath his eyelashes, Bakugo slowly enunciates the next words. “Date. Me.”

Denki stares at Bakugo, ignoring the flutter in his stomach from the way Bakugo’s tongue rolled out the words. The beats between the two and the deep growl he adds to it—it shouldn’t make Denki’s knees and breath quiver, but it does, and Denki’s grateful he’s already sitting down. The thumping of his heart from feeling the intense look from red eyes that makes his skin tight and burn from its intensity. And, the smirk that makes Denki want to reach over, grab Bakugo by the collar, pull him until their lips meet in a clash.

Denki swallows again and breaks eye contact. “Why…” he clears his throat and tries again, “why would you say that?”

“Didn’t you say that anyone would be lucky to have me?”

“That was weeks ago!” Denki splutters. “I-I obviously said that after y’know,” he flaps his hands, “After you confessed that you never dated anyone and in a moment of bro bonding, I said it to make you feel better, Kacchan.” His hands moved along to his words. Denki’s eyes flicker around the room, trying to avoid Bakugo’s eyes. “And…and why are you even bringing this up? I thought we agreed on what happened during bros nights stays at bros nights. How dare you break the sacred bro code?! An-”

Denki squeaked out the last word as Bakugo’s hands captured his hands, and Denki let the rest of the sentence die on his tongue. His cheeks burned.

“Oi, Dunce face, you’re rambling,” Bakugo let his hands go. “Nearly knocked me over with all those hand movements.” He fell back into his seat. “Date me. It’s as simple as that. You said anyone would be lucky to have you, so it’s your chance to be lucky.” Bakugo rolls his eyes.

“That’s not how it works. You can’t just say something like that out of the blue. You can’t expect me to accept it. Because this has to be a joke.” Denki stares at his fingers, afraid to look at Bakugo because if he does, he knows he’ll start crying.

Because here’s his crush giving him the opportunity to date, and Denki knows it’s all a joke. Almost every time Denki had been asked out was one, and how could this be any different.

He fiddles with his fingers trying to stop the bubbling of tears. He feels a foot press against his, and for some reason, it calms him enough that his leg stops its shaking motion (and if he presses the same amount of pressure back and the other foot tries to find Bakugo’s, well that’s between him, Bakugo and the gods).

“Bakugo, you can’t joke about things like that, especially to me,” Denki mutters.

“Oi! You really think I’m joking about this! Do you really think that low of me?” The foot moves away, and Denki does everything in him to stop his foot from chasing after it, wanting at least that small comfort, that small initiative of physical contact.

“Of course not!” Denki quickly says, a little bit too fast, a little bit too harsh. He throws a glare at Bakugo and he swallows before firmly saying “No, never. I would be a shitty extra if I did think less of you.”

Denki wants to reach over and grab Bakugo’s hands again, but he can’t. He can’t let him know how much he craves the small touches between them and how much he really wants to kiss him until they’re both gasping for air, and and and and how much he loves him.

Maybe love is a strong word to use, but, fuck Denki knows that whatever this feeling is for this pomeranian dog, gremlin of a person is extremely close to love.

“It’s just… it’s just..” Denki trails off, his eyes began to water, and he looked down at his fingers—the skin around his thumbs picked, a small dot of blood spilling across his skin, he pulls it up to his mouth and takes it in, trying to use it as a block to prevent him from saying anything else. Pulling it back out, he smiles at Bakugo and waves his hands as erasing the moments before. “Forget I said anything. But, Kacchan, I can’t date you anyways….”

Denki wonders if Bakugo will believe him about his next words or if Shinsou would mind using him as a deflective tool and avoid exposing his true feelings for Bakugo. He’ll make it up to Shinsou after this is over; maybe he’ll invite Deku along to the plans so the lovebirds could hang out. Yeah, Denki thought, a solid plan, and maybe he’ll manage to leave the outing and go sorrow in his misery and maybe cry over this whole ordeal.

“I’m kinda seeing Shinsou.” Denki breathed out. He fiddled with his fingers, trying to avoid Bakugo’s eyes, anything that would expose him for lying.

“Tch,” Denki’s eyes flickered up to Bakugo, who was watching him behind slitted eyes, and his lips curled into a sneer, “You may want to talk to Eyebags about that. Last time I checked, he and Shitty Deku were dating. Committed.” Bakugo narrowed his eyes at Denki’s groan.

Denki covered his face. Of course, Deku would tell Bakugo about his relationship—Bakugo may adamantly decline his and Deku’s friendship, but it was clear to anyone that the duo patched things over and could hold conversations again, but Denki hadn’t realized how close the pair had gotten.

Of course, now Denki is truly fucked.

Denki peaked between his fingers, and he could see the twitch at the corners of his lips. His lips still curled, baring his teeth, and his eyes narrowed, but Denki was one of the few people who could easily read Bakugo, and his red eyes twinkle with amusement, and Denki wanted to capture that small spark and hold onto it like a small speck of a flame.

“Are you laughing at me, Kacchan?” Denki’s words made Bakugo huff out a laugh, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a suppressed smile. Now, that is something Denki wants to paint across the walls, frame it in a gallery because that soft, shy smile made Denki warm.

It made Bakugo look softer. He is handsome, but once, Bakugo stopped making those forced anger, annoyed expressions—he still looked hot with those looks, but when Bakugo let his face relax into his natural demeanor, it made Denki want nothing more to engrave the image behind his eyelids or tattoo it against his skin—an exaggeration he knows, but goddamn, Bakugo is so fucking handsome that it made Denki go a little insane. His fingers twitched to grab his phone and capture the image, but doing so would kinda expose him—he does manage to capture some of those fond smiles Bakugo tries to hide behind his explosive demeanor, but Denki knows.

“Tch,” Bakugo leans forward, his fingers drumming against the desk, a smirk and mirth dancing in his eyes. “You’re a worse liar than Deku. But, I praise the attempt.” He huffs out.

“Kacchan.” Denki groans. “Can we just pretend none of this happened and go back to studying?”

“And, here, I thought you would want to… I don’t know…do anything but study. That’s the first, Sparky. Full of surprises.” He shakes his head. “But, Dunce face, I do actually mean it. Date me.”

Denki’s eyes roamed over Bakugo’s face, trying to find something that proves that he’s lying or something that’s a joke, anything to avoid getting hurt. But, he knows that Bakugo wouldn’t lie; he’s not someone to lie, whether meaningless or important. Bakugo was blunt as fuck, and he wouldn’t lie––at least that’s what Denki thinks.

“How,” Denki paused. He swallowed before speaking again, his fingers trembling against his thigh and his heart hammering against his chest. Knots forming in his stomach.

“How what? Spit it out.”

“How do I know if you actually do mean it?” Denki yelled out. He pressed his lips together, and he wanted nothing more than to run out of the room and pretend none of this was happening.

That Bakugo isn’t sitting before him with the most handsome face, and kissable lips, and and and….he rather pretend than face this head-on, and he knows that’s the opposite of what Bakugo deserves in a partner, but Denki is someone not worthy to be Bakugo’s partner. Anyone would be a better fit than Denki.

“Tch. Can’t believe I have to spell it out for you, Dunce Face.” But, Bakugo stopped. His eyes flickered over Denki’s face, and Denki knew he saw the unspilled tears building in his eyes and the way his lips began to tremble. Bakugo’s face softened.

“Hey, Denks,” Bakugo whispered. He brushed a finger against Denki’s cheek, and Denki closed his eyes and breathed in. “Can I…Can I kiss you?”

Denki’s eyes flung open. His throat was closing up, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Please, Denki. Can I kiss you?” Denki nodded, fingers gripping his cheeks, forcing him to look upwards into determined red eyes. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes.” Denki breathed out.

That’s all it took for Bakugo to sweep in and close the distance between the two. His lips were soft against Denki’s, and it felt amazing. It was softer than Denki originally thought kissing Bakugo would be like. He always imagined it being rough, aggressive, a flurry of explosions. He didn’t expect this softness. This spread of warmth throughout his body and fingers gentle against his skin.

Denki leaned further into the kiss. The desk dug into his stomach, and his fingers gripped against Bakugo’s shirt in a desperate hold. He wanted to close any distance between them. He wants to convey everything he feels for Bakugo in this kiss. He wants him to know that he genuinely cares and loves him. Because this may be the only chance he’ll get to kiss his crush, and he wants to make sure it’s worth the heartache.

Bakugo pulls back and Denki sighs. His eyes flutter open. “Stop thinking. I know you think this is a joke or whatever, but it’s fucking not. Denki Kaminari, I like you. I like the way you push me to be friendly or whatever. And, you bring out a side of me that I never expected. You’re never one to back down on telling me off. You just, fuck, Dunce Face. You gotta trust me, okay. I’m not one that uses words or shit. Just let me prove it to you.” Bakugo leans in and kisses Denki again.

Whispering against his lips, “So, date me, Denki.”

“Katsuki,” Denki breaths out. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good. Maybe you do have a brain in there.”

“Yeah, you think?”

“Yeah, it knows that you’re about to be the luckiest person in the world. Shitty extras are going to be jealous that you’re dating The Bakugo Katsuki.” Bakugo grins.

Denki huffs out a laugh, the edges of his lips twitching into a smile. “Shitty extras don’t know what they’re missing.”

Denki leans in again for another kiss. They continue kissing until they lose their breaths.

Denki may still think he’s not worth being Bakugo’s partner, but he’s sure as hell is going to enjoy being by his side as long as Bakugo wants him to. But that’s for another day to worry about; for now, Denki is enjoying the feel of Bakugo’s soft lips against his.

i am. so sorry if i have ever used the phrase “i have an au where—” and led you to believe that there is an actual fic out there for you to read rather than, at best, a post where i explain the concept, and at worst it is simply something that lives in my brain

I’m always like, “this WIP will be finished this week” and then six months later it’s still not done

so women are supposed to grin and bear the books, the comics, the movies, the plays, the tv shows, the stories, the sci-fi, the translated ancient poems, the fucking millennia of men writing about their self inserts torturing women and it being declared as High Art by other men, we’re supposed to read it in our free time, study it in classrooms, include their styles in our own writing, accept their cultural influence as natural, watch it in the cinema, write about it, talk about it, accept it, aspire it, but men can’t tolerate three seconds of female wish fulfilment of a woman snapping the wrist of a creep without feeling personally kicked in the balls.

The new canon, Zuko uhh Lee and Sokka went on a date :)

writing: hard, overdone

closing the doc and lying prone on the floor for an hour: easy, fresh, 100% free

THANK YOU, RYAN BERGARA AND SHANE MADEJ! Buzzfeed Unsolved (2016 - 2021)

Sokka uses Zuko’s phone to check the time and sees that it’s open on the “am i gay” test. Sokka slowly puts the phone down.

HOW DARE YOU SAY YOU CANT TITLE ANYTHING? Truly my inspiration

do y’all want viktor content because I wanna write some viktor content

♚ DABI | BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA ♚

If I tell you about something that I’m really excited about it means I trust you. It’s not an invitation for you to be dismissive, rude and/or change topics as quickly as possible. 

baby i’ve got half finished wips you couldn’t even imagine

gays see something with "vampire" in it and hit reblog

i like thinking about things critically but i also like not giving a fuck too so you can imagine the kind of stress i am under

rb to relieve the back pain of the person u reblogged this from

8/11 Happy birthday Aizawa 🥳💕💕💖

“I’ll make this feel like Home”-a Dabi x Reader fic

Hey, everyone! This is my first ever piece of Dabi x Reader! Apologies in advance if there’s any grammar mistakes! There’s a slight bnha manga spoiler, so be warned about that! 

Calling out for somebody to hold tonight When you’re lost, I’ll find a way, and I’ll be your light You will never feel like you’re alone I’ll make this feel like home

- “Home” by One Direction 

Dabi’s kissing you along your right collarbone. One hand cupping your breast as it squeezes a bit—not enough to hurt, but just enough pressure that has you sighing from it. And, your eyes flutter close. His other hand hidden between your bodies, trapped from the angle he’s in. Your hands grip the book—the one you were reading before Dabi started slowly tracing a hand up your stomach. His fingers feather-like, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He bites down against the juncture of your shoulder and neck, and squeezes your boob.

Your eyes open from the sensation. You look at him. Blue eyes danced with mirth and he smirked against your skin as he nipped the same spot again. You smack him with the book with a sigh.

Dabi gives you another grin before rolling on top of you. He blows raspberries against your neck and you huff giggles from the sensation. The book slips from your fingers and your hands come up to his hair. You whisper his name.

Dabi pulls up, and looks at you. Your breath hitch from the way his blue eyes shined with something that you rarely see from him.

The blue that meets you is warm like the entire sky decided to make a home in him. Like the peaceful waves from the ocean decided to bottle itself up and live in his eyes. Like…like…like he wanted to be a home for you. And, he was. You wonder if your eyes say the same thing. That this was a home you both built and that you saw the stars and  moon in him. That he meant home. Love.

You lean up and he leans down.

You kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him. Until, all you knew was his breath, his scent and his taste.

He presses against you and you pull him down, trying to close any space between you both, like you wanted to feel nothing but him. But then, he pulls back.

“Let me worship you, my love.” All you could do was nod.

He kisses you again, steady and deep. He nips your lip as he pulls back. Your chest heaves. Your fingers trap between his locks and he smiles. His gentle smile that is reserved just for you. It makes him look younger, boyish, like the past few years stripped away from him. Like the gentle man, you know he can be. It was the smile that made you fall in love with him. You wanted to kiss it. You wanted to catch that smile and keep it safe.

Your fingers fall from his black locks, and you trace the staples along his cheeks. Gentle. Dabi rarely lets you touch his scars, but it seems that tonight he’s allowing it. Allowing himself to be trapped in this cocoon, in this bubble you both created.

Dabi moves his head slightly, kissing the palm of your hand. His stare never wavering from yours. He slowly begins to kiss his way down your arm. Kissing you along your collarbone, nipping at your neck. All you could do is sigh from his touch. He kisses you down your chest. His fingers light as they move, almost like a ghost of a touch that leaves your body begging for more. Dabi kisses you everywhere.

When he gets to your stomach, your breath hitch. You feel him smile against your skin.

He tongues your belly button. Kissing and licking the scars scattered across your stomach. Slowly nipping his way. He’s far too gentle, but god, you can feel yourself getting wet with each kiss. He starts against your inner thighs. You squirm from the sensation. You wanted more. You needed more.  

Dabi hitches one of your legs up. Hooded eyes with pupils blown. He places it over his shoulder. And, he sends you a smirk that has you melting into the bed.

Dabi’s still looking at you under his eyes. A finger slips into you. Your eyes flutter close, and you let out a breathy moan. His lips continue peppering kisses and bites along your thighs—leaving marks that only you and him will know about. Marks that remember his lips against your skin until he decides to take you again.

His finger languidly pumps in and out. Before you knew it, you had three fingers in you. His tongue pushed in along with his fingers. He licked and sucked and you kept repeating his name like a prayer. One hand clutched the bedsheets and the other his hair.

Your buildup was slow and unexpected. You came from his fingers and mouth. You wanted more. You needed him in you. He continued pumping his fingers, until felt another heat pool in your stomach.

You whispered his name.

Dabi pulled out his fingers.

He kisses you. You plea against his lips. He shushes you between pecks. His fingers brush away the sweaty matted hair, and you look at him and you softly say his name. He kisses you again.

Your fingers in his black locks and you pull him against you.

Please please please.

You felt him push inside you. You gasp. He waits before he continues. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper. His forehead touches yours. You both huff and look into one another’s eyes. You wanted to feel every inch of him. He removes an arm of yours from around his shoulder.

Dabi weaves your fingers together, placing your locked hands next to you. He begins to thrust. Deep, shallow thrusts. Your eyes locked with his. Your tangled hands remain locked and you both give gentle squeezes.

You sing his name between moans. Between him pulling out and slowly thrusting in again. He was taking his time taking you apart. You never felt this much love before. You never thought Dabi would show this side of his, not with everything y’all been through. But, he is. He’s there whispering words of compliments about your body, whispering his devoted love. And, you whisper it back. You cup his cheek and pull him for a kiss. You swallow the moan of your name as he thrusts deeply into you. You feel him fill you up and you come with a strangled moan and a Touya.

Dabi maneuvers you and you’re both sitting on the bed—him still inside you and never breaking the kiss. You moan from the sensation and he swallows that. His arms wrap around your waists, pressing you closer to his body and your arms wrap around his shoulders. His fingers hot against the small of your back, and yours against his nape, twisting strands between each digit.

He begins to thrust up into you. Squelching noises mix in with the moans. You feel some of his cum coming out of you and you feel yourself clench around him.  You wanted to keep every single drop inside of you.

You began to meet his slow thrusts. Moans, huffs of breaths and slaps of skin filled the air.

His finger wipes away the tear that spilled from your eyes, and he kisses you hard.

You breathed out his name as you clenched around him, you came again. Your strangled moan against his neck. You kissed his throat, licking against the edge between his burnt and normal skin, kissing gently at the staples. You wanted him to feel equally as loved as he made you feel.

Dabi pulled you from kissing the mark, and kissed you hard as he thrust one final time and came deep. His fingers pressed against your head. He kissed you as he kept moving until he stopped.

Dabi flopped backwards bringing you along with him. You laid there with your head against his chest. Listening to his heavy breathing and the slowing hum of his heart. You wonder if he can feel your own thumping heart against him. You kiss his chest. You tried to roll off him as you felt his softening dick inside of you. You wrinkle your nose against the sensation, but his arms stopped you. He rolled you both to be side-to-side.

His blue eyes dance over your face. His finger came up to trace against your cheek. Dabi presses his forehead against yours. Eyes peering into yours. He looks scared. He looks vulnerable. He smiles.

“I love you,” he breathes out.

Your breath hitches. You knew that he accepted his love for you. He accepted this version of home. You knew that it took everything in him to say those words. To trust you with his heart, like you trusted him with yours. You knew that you fell hard and fast for Dabi, and you knew he fell the exact same way.

“I love you, too.”

Both of you are smiling against each other’s lips. Knowing that there’s no turning back. That this is home.

Dabi kisses you. And, kisses you. And, kisses you. And kisses you, until you can only taste his name.

To any fic writers who worry they are wasting their time... I read a fic for a relatively small and inactive fandom about three years ago. And there was one specific scene where a character watched another dancing like an idiot to a beyonce song and it was so sweet and loving that even now years later I have that song on one of my spotify playlist so every once in a while it will play and remind me of that fic, and every time it does I smile and feel a little happier.

The stats on a fic will never really tell you if your writing touched someone. There's no numerical way to show you what impact you made. Maybe you are wasting time, or maybe you are writing something that someone will remember for a long time, something that will never fail to make them smile.

"i can fix him" well the teacher wld sit him next to me bc im quiet

“i could fix him” well i could watch him spiral into bloodlust and madness instead. it would be significantly more fun

Overstimulation with Vampire Gojo - Kinktober Day Nine

Satoru Gojo x Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: You stop by to pick Gojo up on your way to Shoko's Halloween party and, when the vampire invites you inside, things take an interesting turn. One you've been pretending for years that you never wanted. One he's been waiting years for.

Warnings: overstimulation, gojo being a total fuckin dominant asshole, teasing, dirty talk, gojo makes you beg...a lot, masturbation, fingering, mention of edging, "ice play" (except it's really just gojo's cold fingers & cock cause dude's a vampire), pussy slapping, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Vampire!Gojo felt more fitting for the Halloween vibes. I also had way more fun writing Gojo being an asshole than I expected. Anyways, Happy Kinktober, I hope y'all like the fic!

Since you’d met him, it’d been all fang talk. At first, you tuned it out. He wasn’t the first vampire you’d interacted with. And given his power status, giving him any satisfaction in having any reaction beyond disinterest was off the table. So you ignored him. You ignored the way those sharp fangs glinted in the moonlight as his mouth tipped into a mischievous smirk. Especially the way his eyes sparkled as he goated you, trying to pull even the tiniest reaction from you.

Because he knew, beneath the surface, behind the eye-rolls and annoyed scoffs, you were intrigued. It came in an accelerated heart rate. Increased breathing. Dilated pupils. The way your breath hitched when he got close. How clearly your mind would wander when he’d tell you he could make you feel things you could only ever imagine.

Pure euphoria.

“Pretty sure I’ve felt that before,” you’d responded as nonchalantly as possible. Gojo simply laughed.

You’d been bitten before; you knew one of the side effects. You’d felt it, and Gojo knew that.

“But not from me,” he whispered. “Not from the strongest.”

You’d waved your hand in the air and ignored him, just as always. Just as you always would.

But the bastard, the amused, smug bastard wore you down. He was biding his time, waiting with hidden patience until you snapped. Watching with those eyes that bottled the summer sky and endless stars as you waited outside his apartment in a vintage nightgown. White. Innocent. The feedee to the feeder. His idea. Then he could go to the costume party without having to disguise his fangs. It was the perfect plan. Until he opened the door dressed in a white shirt, half the buttons undone, chest exposed, and tight black pants that left nothing to the imagination. His head cocked to the side as your stare lingered, and he knew he had his claws in you.

And so did you.

“Why don’t you come in?”

“I thought it was humans who had to invite the vampires into their home?”

“It is.” He chuckled, standing aside, barely giving you enough room to enter. You had to brush against him in the process, bare skin on bare skin. He wasn’t nearly as cold as you expected him to be. His laugh deepened, and you involuntarily flushed.

The loose cotton garment sashayed around you as you stepped into Gojo’s apartment, turning to face him as soon as you were three steps inside. The door closed with a quiet click behind Gojo as he perused your body. His eyes roamed over you as if the nightgown had melted to your frame.

“So? What is it you wanted me to come in for?”

The vampire smirked as he sauntered over to his cellarette and pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. You crossed your arms. If you dilly-dallied, you’d never get to the party on time. That meant no wine.

Gojo seemed to read your expression.

“What? You worried about lowering your inhibitions around me?” He made a show of licking his fangs.

“I’m worried about being late to our friend’s party.”

Gojo dropped to his couch and poured one glass of wine. You followed suit. He shook the empty glass at you, and you simply held up your middle finger in response. A shrug later, and he had the bottle down on his coffee table next to the spare glass and lazily sipped the decadent drink. You frowned. You were going to be late.

“Really, Satoru, we’re going to be late.”

“Answer me one question.” He eyed his wine. “And then we’ll go.”

“What?”

“Why do you pretend to act so nonchalantly around me?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you realized Gojo had leaned towards you. You held your breath as he let the tips of his fangs poke out from his smile. You needed to put distance between you, but with the armrest behind you, you had nowhere to go. He dragged a single finger down your cheek, trailed it along your jaw, beneath your ear, all the way down until he reached your pulse point. Sharp nails dug into your thighs, and you realized they were your own.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was tighter than you’d hoped.

Gojo canted his head to the side, eyes fixed on your neck.

“Your heart is racing,” he whispered almost tenderly. “Are you nervous, (Y/N)?”

“No,” you answered too quickly.

“Do I scare you?”

Deep down, yeah, he scared you. He was an insanely powerful otherworldly being. On some level, of course he scared you. But your heart wasn’t hammering against your chest out of fear. Not even slightly. Or, at least, not fear of him. But the growing ache you were feeling for him? That was worrisome. Especially since that resolve you’d had for the last few years was finally starting to deteriorate.

“No.”

“Then what,” he murmured as he leaned in and you felt his breath tickle your neck, “has your heart beating so fast?”

You couldn’t stop the image of Gojo lying you back on his couch, body pinning yours against the couch cushions, and sinking his fangs into your neck. Just one of many fantasies that have played out consciously or subconsciously. Whether his hands roamed your body, his hips rolled between yours, there was always one thing in common: Gojo bit you.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t do the same thing you always did when you thought about that. You mentally cursed the cracks in your resolve as you lifted your hand to your mouth, gently touching your canines, wondering what Gojo’s felt like.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” His mouth grazed your ear, and you sucked in a harsh breath.

“We should get going, we’re going to be-”

“If you say late one more time, (Y/N), I swear I’m going to sink my fangs into you and suck you dry.”

Curse the image that his words made you think of. Curse the ache that it made you feel.

Curse the delay that it caused because Gojo jumped on it.

“Oh.” He sat his glass down and brought his other hand up to your jaw, leaning forward until his chest pressed against yours. “Is that something you’d like?”

“Gojo.” His name was a warning.

“Usually, you have some retort, some smart-ass remark.” He dropped his mouth to your neck and pressed a feather-light kiss to it. “But it appears you’ve gone tongue-tied.”

You wanted to pull away. You wanted to push him off, but in your attempt, all you managed to do was lift your hands. Because as soon as they touched him, as soon as you felt that solid chest beneath them, all you could do was ball that soft fabric up in your hands.

For the first time, you were utterly hopeless under Gojo’s touch, and he knew it.

“Admit it.” He only hesitated a moment before you felt the faint scrape of his fangs against your skin. “You’ve been wanting me to bite you since we’ve met.”

And, damn it, you shuddered. Of all things you could’ve done, your hands tightened, your breathing grew heavy, and you shuddered.

“Party,” you blurted out.

“(Y/N).”

If Gojo’s name was a warning, yours was a promise. A promise of what he’d been saying since you’d met. A promise of pure euphoria.

“Tell me what you want.” A hand dropped to your waist and jerked you forward. Your legs parted around him. “And I’ll give it to you. You just have to tell me.”

You groaned, more frustrated than anything else. You’d already embarrassed yourself. You’d let him get this far. Fuck. Purely out of spite, you said nothing. Gojo had already gained too much satisfaction from this. From you finally starting to lose yourself in him. You wished you hadn’t accepted Gojo’s invitation to enter his apartment. That you’d bullied him until he gave in, joined your side, and the two of you made your scheduled appearance at Shoko’s Halloween party. You would’ve greeted your friends, maybe given in and danced with Gojo, gotten a tad too handsy after having a shot or two, and then gone your separate ways.

Instead, you were clutching onto his shirt like your life depended on it, trying to ignore just how fast your heart was beating--trying to slow it down, knowing Gojo was aware of it too. You shouldn’t have sat on his couch in his too-cold apartment with the last sip of blood-red wine left in his glass. You shouldn’t have thrown away years of pretending because this was going to change everything. Not just you wanting him to bite you. Just giving away that you wanted him to. That was already an arsenal accidentally gifted to the vampire. And he was always going to use it.

You had to get it together.

“The last thing I want is for you to bite me,” you spat.

But you didn’t move.

In fact, you were pretty sure you sighed as Gojo shifted until his mouth hovered over yours. His mouth that looked so damn soft. So damn tempting. Like the forbidden fruit, the Devil whispering in your ear, telling you to just take a tiny little taste. No. To let him take a taste. Let him feast. Let him take.

But you’d never admit it. Not to him. You’d never do that. But you didn’t push him away when he hovered there. And you certainly didn’t fight nearly hard enough when you felt yourself pressing up until your lips met his. You felt weightless as your mouths met. The kiss was the closest to chaste you’d imagined Gojo could muster.

He sighed against you, mouth parting just enough to tease what was going to come. He was restraining himself, barely able to hold back his grin as you held him against you, surely wrinkling his shirt. Then, when his own resolve crumbled, and your mind had just begun to process soft, delicious, addicting, he smiled, and you felt his fangs prick your lips.

If you’d known this was how good it felt to kiss Gojo, you would’ve done it ages ago.

And that thought grew tenfold when he let his grip slip, and he became hungry. Dominant. Determined. His teeth captured your bottom lip, tongue soothing the sting, as he tipped your head back. The hunger, it was like he’d been wanting this just as long as you had. Like he’d been waiting--praying, if vampires did that--for you to finally give in. You were sure you could’ve cracked a Dracula joke there, but all you could hear was Nanami’s monologues about Nosferatu, cinematic Dracula, and novel Dracula.

Gojo adjusted, tugging you onto his lap, legs splaying around him. Your head fell back as he kissed down your jaw, teasing your throat and lingering there, making your blood boil in all the best ways, and slowly undoing the tie of your nightgown. His slender fingers worked slowly, and you weren’t sure if it was to give you time to back out--which you knew was the smart decision, but since you were already in uncharted territory, you figured why not--or to drive you absolutely insane.

Most likely the latter.

His fingers grazed your chest, and you were thankful you’d decided to wear a bra. If you hadn’t, your chest would’ve given away just how needy you were. Although with all of Gojo’s keen senses and extraordinary abilities, the way he snickered as he kissed your neck told you that he was entirely clued in to how badly you wanted him.

“Let me touch you.” He toyed with the straps of your bra and pressed his hips up. “Let me show you what you’ve been missing out on for years.”

You, despite your common sense screaming at you to get up, nodded.

The groan of satisfaction and vindication that left the vampire grated on your ears, your nerves, your entire being. It was like you were drunk on him, and he hadn’t even done anything. You blamed the costume. Bastard donning some high-end version of a knock-off Dracula costume. Showed a little skin, wore some tight pants, flashed those fangs. You weren’t supposed to be this easy; you weren’t supposed to be like every other person who fawned over him.

But you hesitated. It was like you’d practically tilted your head to the side, brushed your hair away, and exposed your neck to the prick like a curious, aching dumbass you were. And he jumped on it. Pounced. You accidentally gave him an inch, and he was going to take all the miles he could. Run you ragged.

“Turn around.” You could feel his grin against your mouth and, just to spite him, you took your sweet time listening. Making sure to drag yourself over his lap in the process, rolling your hips to adjust, satisfied at the low grumble that escaped him.

But that only seemed to piss him off.

As soon as you situated yourself, his knees found themselves between yours, and he jerked your legs open. When your costume stopped him short, there was zero hesitation as he grabbed the thin fabric and tore a slit down the side. You blushed inadvertently at the action, cool air rushing your bare skin, and Gojo chuckled in your ear.

He kept your legs hooked open, holding you against him with an arm around your waist. His mouth danced over your neck, teeth caught your ear lobe, as his other hand fell between your legs. But there was no contact. He just hovered it there, the tips occasionally ticking your inner thigh. He hummed when he glanced over, eyeing your white lace underwear like you were a present waiting to be unwrapped.

“You wear those just for me?” He traced the delicate pattern of the lace, and you held your breath, trying to ignore how even just the faint touch ignited you.

“They were all I could wear with how thin the fucking costume is.”

“It’s funny,” he whispered. “They always have the maiden wear white in the movies. To symbolize innocence. Virginity of sorts before they’re bitten.”

You would’ve glared at him if you could’ve. But his fingers traded the feather-light touch that made heat pool between your legs for a pointed, purposeful one. Up and down over your cunt, sighing as he felt just how soaked you were. Your head fell back against his shoulder; each graze of your clit was agony. The momentary touch relieved the pressure only to double it when his fingers dipped lower once more. You tried to move your hips against him, chasing what he wasn’t giving you. And what was worse, you weren’t even aware that you were trying to do it until his hold tightened and he held you in place.

“Yet here you are, the image of pure desperation and need.” He slapped your cunt and you jumped. “Fucking soaked from all talk. I can only imagine how badly you want to relieve that almost painful ache.”

You thought about wrenching yourself from Gojo’s grasp, but you’d taken the first drag of that cigarette. Your entire body was shaking with need.

“Touch yourself.”

It was a command. One that was spoken in a tone as cool as his skin. Yet it made the flames erupting over your body rise.

“Give me a show, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

You bit your cheek as you moved. Your hand trembled as you draped it between your legs. When you didn’t move immediately, Gojo placed his hand over yours and guided two fingers over your clit. You gasped when he drew your fingers in tight circles over your clit, chin resting on your shoulder, gaze hot.

“What?” He withdrew his hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, making sure you didn’t move. “You needed someone to show you how? C’mon, (Y/N), I know you’ve touched yourself while thinking about me. No need to be shy.”

Each wave of pleasure you brought yourself seemed to rock your body. Gojo’s eyes on you egged you on just as much as it made your nerves spike. You couldn’t find a pace; you couldn’t get your hand to stop shaking. You tried to grind against yourself, chasing the pleasure you desperately craved, but Gojo’s arm around your waist still kept you pinned. Whenever you’d find the spot that made your eyes roll, Gojo would pull your hand away, fingers digging into your veins, no doubt getting high off of how fast your heart was racing.

You had to quiet your mind each time it wandered to what you were doing, especially who you were doing it in front of, and just how intensely he was watching you.

“Tell me,” he murmured as he pulled your hand away from your cunt for what you counted as the sixth time. “Admit that you’ve thought about me while fucking yourself.”

Never. Not in a million years.

“Do it, and I’ll reward you by making you cum until you physically can’t anymore.” He let his fingers intertwine with yours, and only his freezing skin gave away his touch mixed in with yours. “It’s easy; it’s just a few words. Here, I’ll show you.”

He licked a long stripe up your neck until his mouth brushed your ear.

“I’ve thought about you while getting off.” The arm around your waist loosened, and his hand came up to your chest. “Thinking about these tits bouncing as you ride my cock. Taking me like the good girl I know you are. Begging for me to give you more. Begging for me to bite you.”

For the first time since he’d sat you on his lap, you turned to try and see him, but a hand on your chin kept you facing forward. He’d thought about you? Like that? You thought your heart was going to explode from your chest.

“Well,” you croaked out. “Fantasies tend to be about what you can’t have.”

He barked out a laugh, dipping his hand beneath your gown, your bra, until his fingers skimmed a nipple. You didn’t need to see them to know they were hard. You arched your back as he ran slow circles around it, matching the speed he’d set between your legs. He’d retreated a tad there, however, making sure it was only you who was touching you. Free of his iron hold, you rolled your hips and unapologetically ground against yourself. Bits of cold hit you, and you chased after those. You chased after him.

“(Y/N).” He pinched your nipple. “Look down at yourself. Grinding against your hand like a fucking lust-drugged bitch. Don’t think I won’t tie you up and go to the party myself, leaving you in the agony you created for yourself. Soaked. Aching. Too proud to ask me to touch you.”

“If we’re talking about pride-”

“I’ve already admitted it, baby,” he said, voice as sharp as his fangs. “I want to see that pretty pussy take my cock, feel it squeeze around my fingers as you cum. I want to hear every sound you make when I pull another orgasm from you, even after you tell me you can’t give me another one.”

You clamped your eyes shut and groaned, your entire body shaking as you fought the internal battle. It was all pointed spears and splintered shields. You lost. You won. You spat out the words with bitter anticipation.

“I have.” But you didn’t think it was enough. The half a second pause where Gojo didn’t move solidified that. “Multiple times.”

His mouth, pressed beneath your ear, curled into what you knew was a sickening smile.

“Good girl.”

He treated the top of your costume with the same attitude as the bottom, the sound of the fabric tearing almost as jarring as his cold touch. The cups of your bra were pushed down as his hand groped and teased. His other threw your hand aside, cast away to grab onto his thigh as he snaked it beneath your underwear. You sucked in a harsh breath as his fingers grazed your swollen clit. It felt like he held an ice cube against you, and you tried to jerk away.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsked and shook his head. “Stay put.”

A throated whine left you as he pinched your nipples, going out of his way to run his fingers between your folds so every inch felt the freezing temperature before he ran tight, harsh circles over your clit. You would’ve fallen from his lap had his legs not hooked over you and held you in place. It felt incredible. It felt like too much. He already had you on edge. The last six almosts had brought you close enough, but it was embarrassing how he already had you dancing like a puppet on his strings along the crumbling edge.

“Ask for it. If you want anything tonight, you have to ask for it.” His fingers ran tighter circles, and whatever smart response you had turned into a groan.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

You wanted to kill him.

“Can I cum?”

“Did I hear a please?”

You cursed under your breath. You weren’t sure why you were trying to hold off your high as Gojo’s fingers worked that merciless pace, not seeming to care that you were moments away from coming undone. But you wanted to please him. The thought made your blood boil.

“Can I please cum?”

He hummed in contemplation and you wanted to scream.

“Go ahead.” He cocked his head to the side, and you felt his eyes roam over your body. The feeling tipped you over the edge. You refused to cry out his name as you came harder than you’d ever cum before, body buzzing, head light and floaty, muscles tense and sore.

Before you’d even finished, your walls still clenching at nothing as the stars you saw still sparkled in your vision, he slipped two fingers into your cunt. Your legs kicked out as they scissored and curled and stretched you. Slender, sure, but they were long. He hit places you couldn’t without a toy, and Gojo fucking knew it too. Your toes curled, and you tried to hide your face in his neck. It made him snicker.

“We’re not done yet.” His thumb swept over your clit. “Not nearly.”

You felt too hot as his too-cold fingers fucked you. You felt yourself squeeze around him, and the swiftness of your second orgasm approaching nearly threw you. The bastard really knew how to get people off. No. He knew how to get you off. The way his fingers slid into a specific rhythm. This was just for you. A personal torture he’d give just to you.

“C-Can I?” You hated that you asked him without much thought.

“Oh, already?” As if he didn’t know. “I don’t know, you got there pretty quick. You sure you want to cum again already? I don’t plan on stopping after this. You’re cumming until I get every last drop outta you, (Y/N).”

“Please,” you screamed. You couldn’t stave it off anymore. And you hated how your body tingled with excitement at what Gojo would do as punishment if you came without permission.

“If you’re that desperate.” He scoffed and slowed his fingers. “Then take it from what I give you.”

You did. You weren’t sure if he was trying to ruin the orgasm or delay it or knew exactly what his slow curls would do. But he strung you out, hard. Never, not once had your second orgasm been better than the first. Not fucking once. Yet the bastard had your head thrown back, toes curling, riding wave after slow wave as he seemed to wrap the puppet strings around your limbs and pull. You nearly bit your tongue as you ground your teeth together, unable to do anything else as you came around his fingers.

You huffed. You weren’t sure you could give him any more, and he’d only made you cum twice. But his fingers only paused for half a beat before starting up again. You let out a strangled no as his hand on your chest went to your clit. It was too much. You squirmed, and he laughed. Laughed. Then pressed on harder, faster. Tears slipped down your cheeks, nails dug into his thighs, teeth captured your bottom lip to stop the sobs.

“P-Please.” Your third orgasm was knocking on the door, waiting to enter. Or leave. It was all too much. You weren’t sure if you were begging for him to stop or to keep going.

“Ask.”

You hoped the one word would be enough of a response.

“Cum?”

Gojo’s body shook with laugher. It wasn’t.

“Full sentences, (Y/N).” He pinched your clit.

“Gojo.”

He slapped your cunt.

“Full sentences.”

“Can I cum again, please?”

“Yes.”

He rode you through your high. It almost hurt, his fingers fucking your cunt and rubbing your clit. Your throat felt raw by the end, and you weren’t sure if you’d screamed or if it was an accumulation from the last two orgasms as well. His fingers stopped and you thought you were free. Until he lifted you, angled you up on your shaky legs, and you felt him undo the button of his pants.

“Do you want it?” He pulled the crotch of your underwear to the side, pressing his tip against your dripping folds.

You hated that you nodded.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and you burned as he spread your folds. He lingered there a moment, surely watching as you dripped onto his lap, before he lined himself up. His fingers dug into your hips as he guided you down, groaning as you stretched around him. He fucking filled you. But your gasp wasn’t just from how fucking huge he was. You’d thought his fingers were impossible to handle with the cold. His cock was like when you’d left your dildo in the freezer before fucking yourself on it.

Even when he was sheathed entirely inside you, he didn’t move. He found your clit--puffy, swollen, sore--and his thumb ran over it with lazy strokes.

Three times. He made you cum around his cock three times without even moving his hips. You were jelly in his arms, soaked in your own cum, tears, and sweat. And the rare glimpses he gave you of his face told you he was obsessed with this version of you. You couldn’t give him anymore. You’d said that the last two times, but you were wrung dry. You were sure if he moved his hips, you’d combust like a vampire from Buffy with a stake in its heart.

But you wanted him to fuck you. So badly. With every fiber of your being you wanted him to fuck you. You just couldn’t lift yourself up to be able to fall back down onto his cock.

And then his fangs scraped your skin for the hundredth time that night.

“Bite me,” you blurted out. You hadn’t meant to. You’d been trying to ask him to fuck you. A Freudian slip.

He stopped over your pulse point and pressed his fangs against you. Just enough to let you feel the sharp prick.

“Beg for it.”

“Please.” It hurt your throat to talk. Your voice crackled with each word. “Please bite me. Please, Satoru.”

“You can do better than that. C’mon. Beg.”

“Fuck.” You clamped your eyes shut. “Please, I need you to. I need to feel it. That damned ‘pure euphoria.’ It’s all I think about whenever you flash your fangs at me. Please, I need it. I need to know.”

He pressed his fangs harder against you. Scraped them against your skin until you felt a satisfying burn.

“I’m so tempted--so fucking tempted--to leave you like this. A teary mess, begging for something I won’t give you.” Dread coursed through you at the thought. Silently, you willed him to keep speaking. “But I know whether I bite you or not, you’ll be back for more.”

He bucked his hips.

“Because nobody will fuck you like I will.”

He bucked again as you cried out as an almost painful wave of pleasure crashed into you.

“Nobody will get you off as good as me.”

Then he bit you. A searing hot pain, like a cold brand, focused at your neck. You sobbed, but you weren’t sure if that was from the bite or the way Gojo looped an arm around you and slammed his hips against you mercilessly. You’d been bitten before, but just as soon as you tried to recall the memories, you were hit with something you'd never gotten from other vampires. It felt like a wall of liquid pleasure. Or, in Gojo’s wording, euphoria.

It was like he’d injected it directly into your veins, and you laughed. You choked on the sound as another sob followed it, but it felt so impossibly good. Like you were floating on a cloud. Like you were stuck in a permanent state of almost that just kept getting better and better. Like you were dancing on the edge that never crumbled, leading you to a plummet that, as you eyed it, was waiting for you with billowing snow to cushion the fall.

“C-Can I cum? Please, Gojo, can I cum?”

Your voice sounded unfamiliar as you spoke. You weren’t even entirely sure that you had until Gojo responded a few moments later, his thrusts rough.

“Yes.” It was an order.

And you followed it.

You heard your scream leave you as if it weren’t your own. It was like two hands shoved you off the edge as you plummeted down towards the snow. It swallowed you; claimed you like a riptide does an inexperienced swimmer. Those puppet strings that had bound themselves to you earlier tightened and pulled like a torture device. Delicious, rapturous torture. Then they snapped. Like stray worn threads.

You came around his cock for the fourth time that night.

You didn’t even realize he came until you felt his cum leak out of you as you blinked up at the ceiling, coming to.

Gojo gave you a moment to catch your breath before he pulled out, licking over the two puncture wounds on your neck as he righted your underwear, either not caring that his cum was leaking out of you or extremely aware. Most likely the latter.

He laid you on your side as he got up and righted himself, his costume, his hair. He smirked down at you, eyeing your torn costume, tear-stained cheeks, and tangled hair. He knelt beside his couch and scoffed.

“C’mon, (Y/N), we’re going to be late to Shoko’s party.”

joe is constantly on cherry's ass about carla but i know he's secretly deeply impressed that cherry developed his own artificial intelligence.

joe internally: omg ur so smart & pretty & cool & i wish u would date me 🥰

joe out loud: nerd

“I’ll make this feel like Home”-a Dabi x Reader fic

Hey, everyone! This is my first ever piece of Dabi x Reader! Apologies in advance if there’s any grammar mistakes! There’s a slight bnha manga spoiler, so be warned about that! 

Calling out for somebody to hold tonight When you're lost, I'll find a way, and I'll be your light You will never feel like you're alone I'll make this feel like home

- “Home” by One Direction 

Dabi’s kissing you along your right collarbone. One hand cupping your breast as it squeezes a bit—not enough to hurt, but just enough pressure that has you sighing from it. And, your eyes flutter close. His other hand hidden between your bodies, trapped from the angle he’s in. Your hands grip the book—the one you were reading before Dabi started slowly tracing a hand up your stomach. His fingers feather-like, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He bites down against the juncture of your shoulder and neck, and squeezes your boob.

Your eyes open from the sensation. You look at him. Blue eyes danced with mirth and he smirked against your skin as he nipped the same spot again. You smack him with the book with a sigh.

Dabi gives you another grin before rolling on top of you. He blows raspberries against your neck and you huff giggles from the sensation. The book slips from your fingers and your hands come up to his hair. You whisper his name.

Dabi pulls up, and looks at you. Your breath hitch from the way his blue eyes shined with something that you rarely see from him.

The blue that meets you is warm like the entire sky decided to make a home in him. Like the peaceful waves from the ocean decided to bottle itself up and live in his eyes. Like...like...like he wanted to be a home for you. And, he was. You wonder if your eyes say the same thing. That this was a home you both built and that you saw the stars and  moon in him. That he meant home. Love.

You lean up and he leans down.

You kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him. Until, all you knew was his breath, his scent and his taste.

He presses against you and you pull him down, trying to close any space between you both, like you wanted to feel nothing but him. But then, he pulls back.

“Let me worship you, my love.” All you could do was nod.

He kisses you again, steady and deep. He nips your lip as he pulls back. Your chest heaves. Your fingers trap between his locks and he smiles. His gentle smile that is reserved just for you. It makes him look younger, boyish, like the past few years stripped away from him. Like the gentle man, you know he can be. It was the smile that made you fall in love with him. You wanted to kiss it. You wanted to catch that smile and keep it safe.

Your fingers fall from his black locks, and you trace the staples along his cheeks. Gentle. Dabi rarely lets you touch his scars, but it seems that tonight he’s allowing it. Allowing himself to be trapped in this cocoon, in this bubble you both created.

Dabi moves his head slightly, kissing the palm of your hand. His stare never wavering from yours. He slowly begins to kiss his way down your arm. Kissing you along your collarbone, nipping at your neck. All you could do is sigh from his touch. He kisses you down your chest. His fingers light as they move, almost like a ghost of a touch that leaves your body begging for more. Dabi kisses you everywhere.

When he gets to your stomach, your breath hitch. You feel him smile against your skin.

He tongues your belly button. Kissing and licking the scars scattered across your stomach. Slowly nipping his way. He's far too gentle, but god, you can feel yourself getting wet with each kiss. He starts against your inner thighs. You squirm from the sensation. You wanted more. You needed more.  

Dabi hitches one of your legs up. Hooded eyes with pupils blown. He places it over his shoulder. And, he sends you a smirk that has you melting into the bed.

Dabi’s still looking at you under his eyes. A finger slips into you. Your eyes flutter close, and you let out a breathy moan. His lips continue peppering kisses and bites along your thighs—leaving marks that only you and him will know about. Marks that remember his lips against your skin until he decides to take you again.

His finger languidly pumps in and out. Before you knew it, you had three fingers in you. His tongue pushed in along with his fingers. He licked and sucked and you kept repeating his name like a prayer. One hand clutched the bedsheets and the other his hair.

Your buildup was slow and unexpected. You came from his fingers and mouth. You wanted more. You needed him in you. He continued pumping his fingers, until felt another heat pool in your stomach.

You whispered his name.

Dabi pulled out his fingers.

He kisses you. You plea against his lips. He shushes you between pecks. His fingers brush away the sweaty matted hair, and you look at him and you softly say his name. He kisses you again.

Your fingers in his black locks and you pull him against you.

Please please please.

You felt him push inside you. You gasp. He waits before he continues. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper. His forehead touches yours. You both huff and look into one another's eyes. You wanted to feel every inch of him. He removes an arm of yours from around his shoulder.

Dabi weaves your fingers together, placing your locked hands next to you. He begins to thrust. Deep, shallow thrusts. Your eyes locked with his. Your tangled hands remain locked and you both give gentle squeezes.

You sing his name between moans. Between him pulling out and slowly thrusting in again. He was taking his time taking you apart. You never felt this much love before. You never thought Dabi would show this side of his, not with everything y’all been through. But, he is. He’s there whispering words of compliments about your body, whispering his devoted love. And, you whisper it back. You cup his cheek and pull him for a kiss. You swallow the moan of your name as he thrusts deeply into you. You feel him fill you up and you come with a strangled moan and a Touya.

Dabi maneuvers you and you’re both sitting on the bed—him still inside you and never breaking the kiss. You moan from the sensation and he swallows that. His arms wrap around your waists, pressing you closer to his body and your arms wrap around his shoulders. His fingers hot against the small of your back, and yours against his nape, twisting strands between each digit.

He begins to thrust up into you. Squelching noises mix in with the moans. You feel some of his cum coming out of you and you feel yourself clench around him.  You wanted to keep every single drop inside of you.

You began to meet his slow thrusts. Moans, huffs of breaths and slaps of skin filled the air.

His finger wipes away the tear that spilled from your eyes, and he kisses you hard.

You breathed out his name as you clenched around him, you came again. Your strangled moan against his neck. You kissed his throat, licking against the edge between his burnt and normal skin, kissing gently at the staples. You wanted him to feel equally as loved as he made you feel.

Dabi pulled you from kissing the mark, and kissed you hard as he thrust one final time and came deep. His fingers pressed against your head. He kissed you as he kept moving until he stopped.

Dabi flopped backwards bringing you along with him. You laid there with your head against his chest. Listening to his heavy breathing and the slowing hum of his heart. You wonder if he can feel your own thumping heart against him. You kiss his chest. You tried to roll off him as you felt his softening dick inside of you. You wrinkle your nose against the sensation, but his arms stopped you. He rolled you both to be side-to-side.

His blue eyes dance over your face. His finger came up to trace against your cheek. Dabi presses his forehead against yours. Eyes peering into yours. He looks scared. He looks vulnerable. He smiles.

“I love you,” he breathes out.

Your breath hitches. You knew that he accepted his love for you. He accepted this version of home. You knew that it took everything in him to say those words. To trust you with his heart, like you trusted him with yours. You knew that you fell hard and fast for Dabi, and you knew he fell the exact same way.

“I love you, too.”

Both of you are smiling against each other’s lips. Knowing that there’s no turning back. That this is home.

Dabi kisses you. And, kisses you. And, kisses you. And kisses you, until you can only taste his name.

Since dumbassery runs in my veins, have this 1 am thought

Reki and Langa have TikTok accounts to which they post.

Reki's is just a compilation of things he loves: his skateboarding (and Langa's, a lot of "so this is what's happening and how to do it"), his art, little personal rants, and tiktok equivalents of shitposts. He's got a small fan base, mostly people who want skateboarding instructions from him since he's a good teacher

LANGA HOWEVER ACCIDENTLY BLOWS UP. He didn't mean to at all, but this kid is very gay and very much with Canadian settings, which means he ends up on the English speaking FYPs. And if there's one thing GayTok likes, it's funky little gays. So when he has a whole minute of him filming Reki doing tricks on his board with a voice over of him just gushing about how cute Reki is, he goes viral. (and yes, his comment section is filled with "HE WAS A SKATER BOY BUT DID YOU SAY SEE YOU LATER BOY?")

Langa has no idea what to do when his follower base skyrockets overnight. And Reki's account also blasts off since Langa did tag him. And it ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT HELP THAT REKI HAS NO IDEA WHY LANGA'S VIDEO WENT VIRAL AND LANGA REFUSES TO TELL HIM THAT ITS BECAUSE HE WAS GAY ON MAIN.

Anyway, one crisis later, with god knows how many people screaming about how they'd be so cute together, they cause a shitton of confusion and chaos with a 10 second video which is just they stare at each other, smile, and Langa pulls Reki close, but before it's seen if they kiss or not, the screen goes black. And the caption is "Two best friends in a room, they might kiss."

So they mess with the hearts of way too many people. Between their usual posts, Reki's skating instruction videos, Langa's "you weebs all want to live here but you don't actually know what it's like" rants, they post the chaos videos, the ones where people just want to know if they're together or not. They even post one that's essentially "I'm sorry everyone, but we're extremely straight best friends" when there's very clearly a gay flag behind them.

After months of causing chaos, they finally do confirm that they are in fact dating with a blooper vid of them laughing before kissing. The internet explodes at that moment and they're left high on the feeling of all the chaos they caused

Flame Play with DabiHawks - Kinktober Day Eight

Dabi x Reader x Hawks (NSFW)

Synopsis: While attending an event thrown for the heroes, you run into your long-time crush: the one and only Winged Hero. Except, when Hawks sneaks off, you can't stop yourself from wandering after him, wondering where the hell he ended up. Little did you know you'd find him fooling around with none other than one of the most wanted from the League of Villains.

Warnings: "flameplay" (more like Dabi just kinda heats up his hands while touching you), humiliation, dirty talk, biting, nipple play, choking, fingering, anal fingering, female-receiving oral, hint of overstimulation, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration, threesome, cream pie

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Apologies for this coming out late. I really enjoyed writing this piece and it took a lot out of me, so I hope the editing process went okay (I'm very tired). Anyways, I hope y'all like it!

Having a crush on the Winged Hero was difficult. It was all anxiety, wondering if he could read your feelings with those sharp gold eyes. If he knew how badly you wanted to know if his hands were rough and calloused or gentle and soft beneath his gloves. Or if he kissed with fervor or if he drew it out, savoring every moment of your lips touching. Maybe beneath a tree in the moonlight or on a roof as you tried to squint at the stars drowned out by the city lights.

Even worse, the bastard never made it clear whether--if he knew about your feelings towards him--he reciprocated them or not. It was no secret that Hawks’ personality was charismatic, goofy flirt. So you never knew if those sly touches grazing sensitive skin or whispered words with breath tickling your neck were anything more. And nine times out of ten, you could handle that.

Tonight was the exception.

You weren’t paying attention to the extravagant dance hall decked out to appear like a snow-covered forest. As soon as you’d entered the vast room and heard that all-too-familiar, room brightening laugh, your eyes shot to Hawks’ golden locks. But he wasn’t donning the typical hero attire--no one was, this was a strictly formal attire event. His red wings framed him per usual, except there was no tan coat and pant set. Not tonight. No, this was going to be burned into your mind for as long as you could retain it. The whole night would be, you would later learn. But right now, it was Hawks dressed to the fucking nines.

Hawks was lean. There was no doubt about his petite frame--or at least petite compared to the Number One heroes, past and present. But the three-piece suit he wore hugged every rope of toned muscle. His shirt was white, blazer, slacks, tie, and shoes a deep obsidian. But his vest, that was a deep, rich burgundy that matched his wings expertly. Every breath he took made the silky material stretch across his torso, and his fingers--rarely gloveless around you--toyed with his cufflinks.

The intensity of your stare must’ve been as hot as the warmth consuming you because just as you sucked in a desperate breath, heart hammering in your chest, Hawks turned, eyes scanning the crowd until he found you. Your heart skipped a beat, or maybe it stopped. You weren’t entirely sure. Your dark navy dress wasn’t a snug fit, but the moment his gaze locked on yours and his mouth tipped into his laidback, amused smirk, everything felt too tight.

You weren’t even sure who he’d been talking to when he excused himself, never taking his eyes off you. Best Jeanist, maybe? Perhaps Miruko. It wasn’t Endeavor. Hawks would’ve made more of a scene leaving mid-conversation with the Number One Hero.

And, suddenly, he was all too close in front of you, and all you could breathe was him.

He smelled like the sky, like clouds. With a hint of apricot.

You could get drunk on the smell.

“Hi,” he murmured, eyes dropping as he seemed to inspect every inch of your dress. You felt like you were on fire, standing so close to him. No. No, you thought you were on fire then. You truly erupted into flames when he continued. “Would you care to dance?”

“Okay,” you breathed out.

It took every ounce of self-control not to gasp when he took your hand in his and guided you towards the dance floor. Soft and gentle. His hands, as he spun and placed them on your hips, tips of his fingers grazing your back--courtesy of your backless dress--were so fucking soft. You didn’t breathe for a solid twenty seconds as Hawks closed the gap, leaving only a breath between you as you swayed to the slow song that played from the surrounding speakers.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, eyes meeting yours and practically pinning the words to you. His mouth curved up, and you realized you’d been looking at his lips.

“Thank you.” You needed to get a handle on yourself. “So do you.”

His amused expression told you he didn’t need you to verbalize that for him to know. You made an effort to ignore how hot your cheeks felt. An effort that immediately went out the window as soon as Hawks chuckled, low and teasingly.

Yeah, there was no way in hell he didn’t know you had a crush on him.

His fingers danced along your back, and you sucked in a breath so abruptly you nearly choked on it. The song was short. Frustratingly short. You already knew it was coming to an end as Hawks was just starting to draw tiny, lazy circles along your skin. He pitched himself forwards as the song decrescendoed and the partners beside you began to part. His mouth brushed your ear, and you fought a shudder.

“Save another dance for me; that one was far too short.”

He stole a final glance before his eyes shot over your shoulder, and he disappeared.

You exhaled, as slow and steady as you could manage, only maneuvering off the dance floor once the next song started. Yeah, Hawks had to know how you felt towards him. And if he didn’t reciprocate those feelings, he was at least having fun poking and prodding at them. A hint of anger simmered beneath the tingling sensation his touch had left on your back. God, even if he were just...well, being Hawks, you wanted more. You also wanted to smack him if he was just toying with you.

Both would come later when he inevitably tracked you down for dance number two. So, until then, you did your part. Conversing with the other heroes present, ignoring Miruko as she noted your wandering gaze--Looking for a particular bird brain, (Y/N)-- and snacked on the massive buffet table. And then you grew antsy. You’d met Hawks’ eyes a few more times throughout the night, but you’d never met in the middle. Something was always there, tugging you two apart just as your feet started to move in your direction. Then, somewhere around the middle of the event, when more had started dancing, drinks were being refreshed, and the buffet table had more gathered around it, you scanned for Hawks.

But the Winged Hero was nowhere to be found.

You frowned. His wings always made him stand out in a crowd, and no matter how many times you looked for those red arches, there was nothing.

“Rumi-”

“Last I saw, he was headed out into the hall to take a phone call.” She eyed a steak kabob. “You finally going to confess your very obvious feelings?”

“No,” you lied. “I wanted to know where the bathrooms were.”

“Liar.” Still, she pointed. “Coincidentally, they’re out the same door the bird went out of. Down the hall, on the left. Few doors down.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in a few. I just need to freshen up.”

Miruko snickered and, behind you, you heard her quiet, “Uh-huh, sure.”

The problem with Miruko telling you Hawks had also gone out this way was that as soon as you entered the all-too-quiet hall, you turned to the left and walked until you found the restrooms. Sure, you went in, used the bathroom, washed your hands, and freshened up the mirror. But as soon as you stepped back outside, your damned curiosity--or, if another c-word wished to take the blame, your crush--had you turning left instead of right.

You had no idea if this was the way Hawks had gone, but your feet carried you down the empty hallway nonetheless. And they continued to do so until what you thought had been silence grew into true silence. The sounds of the party were no longer heard, the AC was only a mere hum above you, and the only movement came from your unsure steps. And even those were quiet against the carpet as you came to a stop and frowned. If Hawks were on the phone, you surely would’ve heard him already. And there was no way in hell he’d walked farther than this, either.

You opened your mouth and-

A sigh.

Not the sigh you've been about to exhale. A muffled, hidden sigh.

You furrowed your brows and inched towards the sound. It was a door down on the right, the wood thick, but left ever so slightly ajar. You knew you should’ve turned around and gone back to the party, it was rude to peek in on whoever was behind the technically almost closed door, but you weren’t even thinking of Hawks when you approached it. Well, you were, but the thought of a villain sneaking in or some other potential threat was also on your mind.

One hand perched on the doorframe as you narrowed your eyes, holding your breath as you dared a look in. And you were ever thankful you’d held your breath. Had you not been, you were sure you would’ve choked on it as your sight adjusted to the low lighting.

Hawks had his back pinned against the wall of what looked like a janitorial closet, his wings bending around him. His brows were pinched teeth capturing his bottom lip, a dark, crimson blush covering his cheeks. He huffed as a hand fell down his chest, his abdomen, settling where a thigh was pressed tightly. A hand and a thigh that didn’t belong to the winged hero. No, his hair was spiked and as dark as Hawks’ suit. His smile was wicked as he shifted his thigh and replaced it with his hand. He chuckled so darkly you shivered, eyes scanning his patchwork skin before shooting back to where the man palmed the Winged Hero. So slow, so teasingly, each movement with an agonizing purpose.

He kissed Hawks’ jaw, nipped at his skin.

Shamefully, as you watched the two, a spark ignited in your stomach and traveled deep between your legs where it pooled, throbbed, ached. A hint of jealousy, sure, but that was quickly washed away by other guilt-ladened feelings. Feelings that had you pressing your thighs together that only made the building pressure worse.

“If you’re not quiet, we’ll be caught, Hawks.” He pressed harder against Hawks’ bulge, and the Winged Hero cursed. “Unless you’d like to get caught. Found all strung out by a member of the League of Villains.”

Hawks muttered something incoherent under his breath as I, mistakenly, stupidly, idiotically, gasped. It was quiet, barely audible. Any other two lovers stowed away, lost in the touch of lust and passion, wouldn’t have heard it. But this was Hawks. And you knew how observant he was. You knew what his feathers had been trained to do. You should’ve known better.

In an instant, those gold orbs shot to you, and you stumbled back.

A heated grip latched onto your wrist before you hit the floor, but the impact you’d been bracing yourself for still came in the form of a door against your back. The air was knocked from your lungs as eyes so blue you thought he’d stolen the color from the sky looked back at you.

“Looks like we have a peeping Tom, Hawks.”

“Dabi,” Hawks said, breathing heavily as he peered between you and the villain. The name held an edge to it. Dabi grinned.

Those blue eyes tore from you as he peered over his shoulder at Hawks. His smirk ever the more wicked. For half a second, you expected him to unsheath a blade and slice your neck open with precise ease. Instead, when his gaze came back to you, he leaned until his mouth was next to your ear.

“And I think she liked what she saw.” He danced a hand along the front of your dress, hovering above your chest. Your backless dress that, when you got dressed at the last minute, decided to don without a bra, gave you away in the very much not cold room. “Isn’t that right?”

His thumb grazed your hard nipple through the thin fabric, and you let out a shaky breath. You liked it. You shouldn’t have. You really, really shouldn’t have. His whole hand fell to your breast, and he rolled the hardened peak between his thumb and forefinger, mouth dropping to your neck to press a kiss to your pulse point. He pinched as he bit, moaning at the surprised gasp he had elicited from you.

“Tell him,” he whispered--no, ordered--against you. “Tell the bird over there that you liked what you saw, that it got you all wet and needy.”

Hawks jaw set as his eyes fell over Dabi and you. You moaned when Dabi rolled your nipple between his fingers, and Hawks’ eyes jerked to yours. You had a choice here. A fairly obvious choice. You should’ve put your hands up, said you saw nothing, turned, and left. Hawks knew you wouldn’t say a damn thing, not if it were related to him. Even if it included him fraternizing with a member of the League of Villains. He knew. His gaze practically screamed that at you as he watched you.

But, and maybe this was how Hawks found himself in his current predicament, Dabi’s touch was addictive. As soon as he touched you, it was like a matching being dropped onto kerosene-soaked kindling. And the damn villain knew it, his smile only growing against your neck. His next bite was sharper, meaner.

“Tell him,” he repeated, and Hawks remained stiff, watching your every movement.

Humiliation fell over you as Dabi continued his assault on your chest, your neck, his words a heavy hum in your mind.

“I-It did,” you said at last, and even in the low lighting, you could see the muscle in Hawks’ jaw tense.

Dabi nudged a leg between yours, the same way he had to Hawks earlier, and his other hand came down to your hips. Roughly, he drew your hips along the taut thigh muscle, and the friction that should’ve soothed the ache only made it worse. You closed your eyes, unable to withstand seeing Hawks look at you. Feeling it was already a pleasant torture.

“What were you doing this far out from the party?” Dabi’s voice fanned your shoulder as he pulled the strap of your dress down with his teeth. He nipped along your collarbone and shoulder.

“Bathroom.” It technically wasn’t a lie.

“I asked you what brought you out here. Not why you left it.” He pressed his leg harder, and you reached out, grabbing a fistful of his dark jacket, nails digging into his skin.

Your eyes opened for a brief second and fell to Hawks. And even with his attention elsewhere, Dabi saw. His hand fell from your chest and joined the other on your hip, being reminded of how thin the fabric of your dress was. He lifted his head and peered over his shoulder, staring at the Winged Hero with wild amusement.

“Oh,” he practically sang. He stopped your hips, and you whimpered. “You were out looking for Hawks here.”

Something mischievous glinted in Dabi’s eyes.

“Did you have something you wanted to ask him?” Dabi lowered his leg and jerked you away from the door, flinging you into the Winged Hero’s arms. He caught you without a second thought, eyes giving Dabi an unreadable look before meeting yours. “Or maybe you were hoping to be the one hidden away in a back room with him.”

Your entire body felt flushed. The fabric around your chest was puckered and wrinkled from where Dabi had been teasing your nipples.

“I-I…” What were you supposed to say?

Hawks tipped your chin up, and any semblance of coherent thoughts was gone. The way his mouth twitched told you he already knew the answer was, yes, I wanted to be the one stealing kisses from Hawks. But he didn’t dare let that smile slip. Not enough for Dabi to see.

You were entranced. The way Hawks looked down at you with such heat in his eyes. The way the tension in the room seemed to wrap around you like thick, scratchy rope, tying you between the two men. A trembling breath, a rapidly beating heart, a low chuckle behind you as Dabi sauntered up and sandwiched you in. One of his hands played with the only piece of fabric holding your dress up around you.

“Go ahead, Hawks.” Hawks’ eyes went over your shoulder, no doubt meeting Dabi’s. They held for a long moment; the expression on Hawks’ face didn’t change. “Kiss her.”

Hawks didn’t hesitate. Not even half a second's pause. Before Dabi had even finished speaking, Hawks had his lips on yours. And even with the man behind you--or maybe that part only made it feel far better--Hawks felt perfect against you. He kept the distance between you as his lips touched yours for the first time, feeling like a dream, a fantasy, the impossible that you never thought would come. And then his teeth grazed your bottom lip, tongue following, and you whimpered. So quietly, like you’d meant it only for his ears, and the gap was erased. Nonexistent. It was just his body against yours, yours against his. The faint warmth of the man behind you.

His hands found your cheeks, grazed down along your neck, your arms, waist, hips. If he’d lost the erection between you discovering him and Dabi until now, it was back in full force, pressing firm against you. Fuck. You wanted him to fuck you, right there. You didn’t care about Dabi, even though that should’ve been the first reason why you shouldn’t have wanted Hawks to take you right there.

He broke the kiss, and his grip on your hips tightened. Unsaid words were in that hold. His eyes went to Dabi. It was almost possessive. Protective. Of you.

“What?” Dabi leaned against the wall, grinning smugly. “Not going to share? That’s no fun, Hawks. I think we should ask the lady. She seemed to enjoy my company a few moments ago, didn’t you?”

Your cheeks burned as you peered at the door the villain had you pressed against not more than three minutes ago. You didn’t even need to close your eyes to feel how well his fingers felt against you. How precise he had touched you. Like he knew exactly what you liked. You shouldn’t have enjoyed it. You shouldn’t have wanted more. And, damn it, it was written all over your face.

And for the first time since he said the villain’s name, Hawks spoke.

“Answer him.” His voice was soft yet stern. You swallowed your exhale.

“I did.” You had to force the words out. There was no anger, just the nerve-burning embarrassment that made you want to hide in your room for days.

“Tell ya what, Hawks.” Dabi stepped close against, hand on your shoulder, chin atop that. “I won’t put my dick in her unless she begs for it. My gift to you since you seemed to bring this little gift to us. Deal?”

Hawks hands on your hips twitched, and you could tell he wanted to look at you. His fingers were practically bruising you as he held you. But he kept his gaze fixated on Dabi.

“Deal,” you spoke for the Winged Hero, and Dabi laughed loud and proud, clearly not caring about anyone hearing. Hawks’ hold remained like iron.

“Then,” Dabi muttered as he lifted his head and hooked his finger under that final strap holding up your dress, “why don’t we unwrap our gift?”

He flicked your strap off faster and easier than you’d been expecting; the dress dropped and pooled around your waist, Hawks’ hands keeping it from falling to the floor. His eyes dropped instantaneously, and he sucked in a harsh breath. Dabi’s hands came up from around you and cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples as he kissed your neck. His skin seemed to spark against you, and you moaned. Hawks cursed under his breath.

“Such nice tits,” Dabi muttered as he started to roll his hips against your ass, and you realized Dabi was in the exact same boat as Hawks. “Don’t you agree, Hawks?”

Hawks’ hands twitched once more before they lifted, and your dress pooled around your feet. But that was only a momentary thought before Hawks traded places with Dabi, his head dipping into the crook of your neck to kiss, lick, bite, suck as his hands found your chest. They moved with an ease that masked nervousness, but the way he breathed unevenly against your pulse point, pausing before he ran his thumbs over your nipples, gave him away.

Behind you, Dabi kissed your shoulder before abruptly grabbing a fistful of your hair. You gasped, and Hawks pinched your nipples hard. You met Dabi’s merciless gaze, and his lips were on yours. Unapologetically dominant, hungry. He tugged on your hair, making you gasp, and he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. A moan escaped you, and Hawks dared to travel downward until his mouth hovered over a nipple. Dabi gave you only a second to meet Hawks’ gaze before Hawks wrapped his mouth around you and sucked sharply. Dabi swallowed your whine as he pressed his bruised lips against yours.

Trembling legs barely held you up as Hawks didn’t stop at your chest. He was on his knees, fingers playing with the tiny bow on your underwear. Two fingers found themselves between your legs, and your eyes widened at how good it felt.

“Oh, Hawks.” Dabi dragged his hand back, grabbing a handful of your ass before smacking it. “She’s soaked. Practically gushing for you.”

You went to bury your head in the crook of Dabi’s neck as if he’d let you hide. Instead, his hand found your chin and jerked you to watch Hawks. You bit your lip as Hawks frustratingly slowly pulled your underwear down your thighs. He sucked in a breath and groaned as he stared at you bare. Your body flushed as you squirmed in Dabi’s hold, unable to withstand Hawks’ sharp, observant stare as he seemed to memorize every naked inch of you. Like he was committing it to memory.

And then his fingers dragged between your folds, and had Dabi not wrapped an arm around your waist, your legs would’ve buckled.

Hawks fingers were precise as he spread your folds and found your clit. Slowly. Gentle. Purposeful circles. Your head fell back against the villain, and he snickered. Then Hawks lowered his head and--oh--that’s when you started to see stars. Dabi had to hold you still. If you thought you were squirming earlier, now you were writhing. It felt impossibly good. Thigh-shakingly good. It was better than you’d ever thought. Better than any wet dream. And that was just his mouth. Then, his fingers teased your entrance and you melted.

The way they curled in time with his mouth sucking, how his speed matched his tongue kitten-licking your clit. You moaned his name unapologetically and he chuckled against you. Dabi’s voice cut into your pleasure-clouded mind.

“Mind if I have some fun too?” His hand lifted to your mouth. “Open.”

You obliged, mostly because Hawks’ fingers curled against your sweet spot, and you couldn’t stop your mouth from gaping open.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now suck.”

Dabi stuck two fingers in your mouth, and you did as you were told. He hummed in satisfaction behind you, the vibrations rocking your whole body. When he finally pulled them free, you were starting to lose focus on anything that wasn’t Hawks. Until Dabi’s hand found itself between your legs, and very much not where Hawks was. You yelped as he pressed one finger against your asshole, pulling it out and running teasing circles over the sensitive skin.

Then he pushed it in again.

“So fucking tight.” Dabi didn’t stop when you pulled against his hold, the pleasure growing as a sharp coil began to twist in your stomach. “Oh, this close already? I know Hawks is good with his mouth, but you really must enjoy having both holes filled if you’re ready to cream all over his fingers. Don’t you?”

You whined in response as Dabi slid another finger into you. His foot nudged Hawks, and the Winged Hero’s movements slowed. Your eyes cracked open, and you saw Hawks waiting with a hint of curiosity behind his gaze.

“I-I do.” You nodded, and Dabi’s arm around your waist tightened.

“Dirty girl.” He curled his fingers. “If we hadn’t noticed you, how long would you have watched us in here?”

“H-Hawks would’ve noticed,” you said.

“And if I hadn’t?” Hawks’ voice was like honey compared to Dabi’s. Rich, golden honey. His next movement was dragging his tongue between your folds, from where his fingers curled inside you to where your clit sat swollen.

“Would you have watched as I would’ve stuffed his tie in his mouth, pressed him against the wall, and fucked him?” Dabi’s voice was no higher than a whisper, and Hawks shuddered below you. “Would you have touched yourself as I did? Enthralled, dripping wet, watching him beg against the fabric to cum?”

Your toes curled in your shoes, and Dabi kicked your legs slightly more open.

“Do you think I’d let him? Hawks is always great at making a convincing case when he fucks himself on my cock, practically using me like a fucking toy. Or, I guess, letting me use him like a toy. A tight fucking toy.” He tried to nudge a third finger in and you yelped. “Just like you.”

The coil tightened. And it tightened hard.

Dabi nudged Hawks again.

“You want to cum? Answer the question.”

Hawks slowed his movements once more, and you wanted to cry.

“Would you have stayed there and gotten yourself off while watching me fuck Hawks? It’s a simple yes or no answer.”

You could hear Dabi’s grin.

Tentatively, not wanting to think about your answer too much, you nodded.

“We need to hear it,” Dabi said. “Yes or no.”

You wrestled with the word for a few seconds, practically spitting it out.

“Yes.”

Dabi laughed as he matched Hawks’ almost desperate pace as he devoured you. Mouth and fingers, he was chasing the orgasm he’d built up within you. Dabi’s hand found your chin, and you opened your eyes, unable to hold Hawks’ gaze as your orgasm, suddenly, unexpectedly, like a bolt of lightning tore through you. Dabi covered your mouth with his hand to muffle the cry that escaped you, a strangled version of Hawks’ name.

You came over his fingers, both sets of eyes watching you like the Winged Hero’s namesake.

Your eyelids felt heavy as Hawks pulled his fingers from you--Dabi next--and you caught Hawks wiping his glistening chin with the back of his hand as he tried to steady his breathing. Dabi walked you back towards the wall, lifting one of your legs up and bringing his other hand to your throat.

“Do you want him to fuck you?”

You nodded. “I do.”

“How badly?”

“Desperately,” you croaked out as Hawks rose to his feet. The way he looked at you, leg held open by Dabi, body still strung out from your orgasm, dripping just for him. Because of him. Well, mostly him.

“You going to give the lady what she wants, bird? Cause I wouldn’t mind hearing her beg for me.” Dabi rolled his hips forward. He felt huge against the swell of your ass.

But you weren’t left thinking about that long as Hawks closed the space, hand on your chin, mouth on yours.

“Aw, look at him, being all tender. How sweet.” Dabi’s voice was thick with mockery.

Hawks responded by kissing you harder, guiding your hands down to his belt. His fingers wrapped lightly around your wrists. You looked at him with wide eyes as he broke the kiss for a moment. While you looked at him, he licked his lips and smirked. But there was that nearly impossible to see glint in his eyes. Silently asking if you wanted this. As if you hadn’t made that abundantly clear to him.

You undid his belt, and with swift hands, he undid the rest.

Your mouth watered as he freed himself from his pants, and you reached a hand down, carefully fisting his cock. That earned the quietest, breathiest moan from him as he leaned forward, arms on either side of you, forehead against yours. Dabi scoffed, and you ignored him, continuing the motion until Hawks cursed and pulled you from him.

“Any more of that, and you’ll kill me before I can fuck you.” He nudged your nose with his as he lined himself up and slowly pushed himself in.

For the first, when he was half-sheathed inside you, he waited. He kissed you, his hands went to your hips and took Dabi’s place underneath your knee, pinning your leg up beneath him, and he waited. You stretched around him, adjusting to his cock, and he only moved when you whimpered his name. Not when Dabi muttered, “what a gentleman.” Not when you adjusted your feet, and your abdomen flexed, squeezing Hawks’ cock. Only when his name left you in the sweetest plea.

Then he moved. His head pressed into the crook of your neck, mouth parted, breath fanning against you. Then his hips were flush against yours. And your arms came around him, digging into his back through the jacket, the vest, the shirt. You wanted to feel all of him against you, but you couldn’t. Not here. This was a quick fuck. A quick fuck that, as Hawks languidly pulled out, he seemed to be making last as long as he could.

“Wow, Hawks, should I be jealous?” Dabi’s hand tightened on your throat as the other snuck between you and Hawks, tweaking your nipples as Hawks slowly fucked you. “You’re never this tender with me.”

Hawks laughed and it practically made you float.

“Don’t underestimate this one, Hawks.” Sparks ignited beneath Dabi’s hands, and you moaned. It was just hot enough to sting, but, surprisingly, he kept it dialed back. “I think this one’s kinkier than even I thought.”

The heat intensified, and Hawks’ hips started to snap against you harder. Faster.

Dabi’s hand moved from your chest, and for a second, you thought he was going to go between your legs. If he would’ve touched your clit, you would’ve been done for. That much you knew. But he didn’t. He drifted back to where he’d been before, spitting on his fingers before filling you the same way as before. His fingers were still warm as he stretched you. Hawks’ fucking your cunt and Dabi’s fingers fucking your ass made you clamp your eyes shut. Hawks bit down on your neck, and you threw your head back.

That shame was back. The same shame you’d felt when Dabi first touched you.

You wanted more. You wanted more of him.

“D-Dabi.” His name felt heavy in your mouth. This was your first time with Hawks. Dabi shouldn’t have been on your mind. Tucked into your neck, Hawks’ jaw tensed. His hips snapped against yours with a different fervor.

“Yes?” He didn’t hide the surprise in his voice; in fact, you were sure he heightened it to piss Hawks off.

“I…” You wanted more of him now. “F-Fuck me.”

“Hawks is currently doing that.” He was able to slip a third finger in now. He only pumped it a few times before adding a fourth. You burned, but you weren’t sure if that was from his quirk, the stretch, or both. “And with how tight you’re squeezin’ my fingers, I’d say he’s doing a decent enough job.”

Hawks growled. Growled. And kissed you. Part of you thought it was to shut you up, to keep you from asking--from begging--but it felt a lot more like he was trying to mark you. You were his.

“Remember: beg.” He twisted his hand, curled his fingers. God. Mixed with Hawks, you weren’t going to last much longer. And you wanted to cum with both of them inside of you.

Both of them fucking you.

“Please,” you sobbed as Hawks angled your hips and he hit your sweet spot. “Please fuck me. Please.”

“I’d be happy to.” His belt buckle clinked as he undid it behind you, and you sighed as you felt him spit again and run his cock over your ass. You could feel the same staples along it that ran along his patchworked skin. “Hawks.”

Hawks dropped to lazy thrusts, grumbling curses under his breath.

“Unless you’d prefer for me to go in dry--and you know exactly how that feels--I suggest you-”

“I got it,” the Winged Hero shot back.

He pulled out and you felt empty. You clung to him, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere, but held onto him nonetheless. He kissed your jaw as Dabi ran his cock between your folds, gathering your slick--for almost a little too long--letting the tip of his cock repeatedly hit your swollen, throbbing clit. You twitched each time he did, and he snickered. He only lined himself up when Hawks shot him a predatory glare, and you felt Dabi smirk against your shoulder.

Hawks let Dabi go first, murmuring praises in your ear as you took the villain. It burned. It ached. It felt phenomenal. And Hawks pinned Dabi beneath you--clearly knowing the man’s mannerisms too well--and gave you the moments you needed to adjust to the villain’s cock. Rendered speechless, you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. Even slower than before, Hawks pushed himself back in.

Dabi didn’t let you adjust to having both holes filled. With surprising strength, he had one hand on your throat--which continued to burn--and the other on your hips, and he snapped against you. Then Hawks’ hips jerked forward.

All you could do was stay between the two, mouth trapped between your teeth, tears streaming down your cheeks--that Dabi seemed to thoroughly enjoy licking--and take every wave of sharp pleasure they gave you. Then, as Dabi’s thrusts grew rough and Hawks’ grew uneven, Dabi’s hand on your waist dropped to your clit.

“Wanna fuckin feel you cum while you get both holes fucked,” the villain whispered like a threat.

It was almost painful. Not the harsh circles, not Hawks or Dabi slamming into you, not the prickling heat from Dabi’s fingers. The potently, almost unfiltered pleasure that slammed into you as soon as Dabi’s fingers touched your clit. You hadn’t even felt your orgasm building until then. Not until Hawks reangled you, Dabi’s fingers touched you, and the heat around your neck intensified. Then you came.

Hawks’ mouth swallowed the half sob, half cry as you came. He kissed you hard, hips stuttering until his hand slammed on the wall next to you, and he came. Hard. You felt him fill you, his other arm wrapped around you--your leg falling--as he held you as close to him as he could.

Dabi cursed, and you whined as his grip on your neck tightened, and just as blackness started at the edge of your vision did Dabi cum. His hips were flush against yours as he, like Hawks, filled you, and he hummed in satisfaction.

He pulled out first, pushing you forward, spreading you as he watched his cum leak out of you. Then Hawks followed suit, unable to fight the urge to do that same. He kissed you what felt like was going to be a final time as Dabi slid out from beneath you and buckled his belt.

His hand found your chin, still hot, and through teary eyes, he held your gaze.

“If I had a say in it, you’d be keeping that in you until the party ended.” His eyes glittered, and you subconsciously clenched. “Not a drop spilling out.”

“Dabi,” Hawks said. This time, it was his voice with the threat laced in it.

Dabi smirked.

“But, sadly, this is where I say goodbye.” He looked at the Winged Hero. “Bring her to the next meeting. We can do this again.”

He lingered only for a heartbeat before he slipped out the door and you were left with Hawks. Twenty minutes ago, you’d been out standing with your friends, daydreaming about a second dance with the hero. Now, you’d just been fucked by him and one of the most wanted villains.

“Ha-”

“We need to get you cleaned up.” He bent down and picked up your dress and underwear.

“I’m not going to say anything.” He didn’t stop as he guided your underwear up your trembling legs. But he did twitch. Every so slightly. “Not a damn word.”

“I know you won’t,” he muttered.

Next came your dress. Guilt twisted in your gut. Then something much, much deeper. Sharper. Blood-chilling.

“I-If you hadn’t wanted to...with me...and you felt pressured to-”

His eyes widened, and he dropped the straps of your dress before he could right them on your shoulders. Two red deaths came down and finished the process as he cupped your cheeks. There was a desperation in his eyes. On his face. He kissed you, tenderly. Carefully.

“I promise you, I promise you with every feather on my wings, I wanted to. I’ve been wanting to.”

“Then…”

“I just wasn’t imagining fucking you for the first time with...another person there.” He raised an eyebrow at you, eyes dropping to your ass as you turned.

You nodded. You wouldn’t have imagined that either. But...he had been imagining. He’d been imagining being with you.

It seemed that crush was more than just reciprocated.

“So,” he said as he wiped the mascara from underneath your eyes, hand on the small of your back as the two of you left the quaint room. “Next time, it’s going to be just you and me.”

You walked beside each other, hyper-aware of both the men you’d just been with. From the pleasure and the pain radiating through you with each step, from the liquid seeping out of you with each little movement. Hawks stopped next to the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe and eyeing you from head to toe. He leaned in, mouth grazing your ear.

“And next time, I’m going to absolutely worship you.”

You inhaled quickly and held that breath as Hawks stepped back.

Footsteps sounded nearby, and you and Hawks parted as a group muttered an excuse me as they stepped into the bathroom.

Hawks stared at you a second longer. Eyes full. Mouth tipped into a sunny smile.

He started to back away and scanned your body once more.

“I still expect that second dance.”

And of all things, as he shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned that boyish grin you’d seen countless times before, he winked.