EREN, BAKUGOU, ATSUMU, BAJI:

EREN, BAKUGOU, ATSUMU, BAJI:

another masterpiece😫

My Dirty Mind Is Saying, Lover

Day Twelve: Spit Kink + Gun Play | 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

yakuza!Megumi Fushiguro x f!reader Genre: Smut Notes: He's so sexy when he's mean Warnings: 18+, dubcon/noncon, murder, kidnapping, human trafficking, stockholm syndrome, spit swallowing, spitting, gunplay, use of puppy-names (puppy cunt etc), dumbification, degradation, praise, dacryphilia, fingering, pussy slap. Words: 5.8k

Your heart pounds as you notice him across the road. Your father sees him, too. His voice is buzzing in your ear. He’s telling you to get in the car; terror laced in his aggressive tone. And could that also be… Shame? Is there shame in your father’s words? You don’t listen, immediately. A pair of blue eyes, a blue so rich you could just drown in them as they stare daggers in your direction. He looks awfully familiar. Your father is trying to force you inside of the town car, the car he hired to pick you both up after your trip to the theatre. A refined activity you’re expected to accompany him with at least three times a month. Whether it be in or out of town. This trip, is in town. Although by your father’s fear-stricken tongue, you sense he’s wishing it had been the latter. Anything to get away from the raven-haired man looking menacingly at you both from a distance. Whispers of ‘what a cheap suit.’ tumble out of your father’s lips and into your ear as you continue to ogle the mysterious man across from you. Upon closer examination, he’s right, but that hadn’t been on your mind. His shirt is open and you can see an art galleries worth of tattoos on his body. Most of his chest and body and around his neck.

“Listen to me for once in your life and get in the car.” your father insists. You nod. With one final look, you offer a half-hearted smile to the stranger. He winks at you; you smile wider. When you hear your father clear his throat you take that as your cue to duck inside of the car.

Never to see him again.

­A few weeks passed since that evening. The man hasn’t entered your mind again since. Although, would it be shameful to admit that you fantasised about him when you returned to the privacy of your bedroom? It wasn’t much, and not to completion. It was a mere passing thought. Honestly your days have been boring since you transferred from private school to home-schooling. You opposed the idea in the beginning, but once your father argued that if it was good enough for the Kardashian-Jenner’s it was good enough for you. It has been nice, almost having the ability to go at your own pace, but it’s boring. You wouldn’t have minded nearly as much if it wasn’t such an abrupt and sudden change; and your father still refuses to give you answers. He just says it’s safer.

But you have no idea what he’s trying to protect you from.

You’ve known your housekeeper since the day you were born. After your mother passed away, she did her best to fill the roll for you. She is like a mother in most ways. She cooks, cleans, and takes care of you. She always lends a kind ear to listen to your problems. No matter how tedious.

“I think I’d like to go out tonight, Ren.” you inform her. You’re not looking in her direction as you study your wardrobe, but you can already see the way her head in shaking from side-to-side in disapproval.

“You know your father doesn’t like you being out when you have studying to do the next day.” she reminds you. Your body spins as you turn to face her, bratty attitude displayed in full as your hip drops and you settle your hand comfortably onto it.

“My father doesn’t like me being out, period.” you inform her, managing to pull a light chuckle from her. “I’ve been bored at home for weeks Ren, I’m going out tonight.” you insist.

Your attention is brought back to your wardrobe; you can’t help but scan and despise how dated it is. The plan of wanting to go out is as far as you’ve gotten. No friends have been contacted, no location scouted for your endeavour. Just, out, that’s all that matters. And you're sure if you flutter your eyelashes enough you’ll be able to convince your father that this is a good idea. But there’s something else crucial to this plan.

Money.

“Ren, please hand me my silk gown.” you demand.

The material leaves her grip and finds yours in an instant. The wine coloured silk caressing your fingertips, there is something about silk that makes you feel a gratitude like no other for your father’s fortune. The way it waterfalls when you allow it to drop from your body, if you so choose. The way it delicately compliments your gentle, sensitive skin in a way that no other material could ever dream of. The way it just looks more lavish and sophisticated. It is you. You are silk; an expensive, high maintenance darling. You pull it on slowly, admiring yourself in the mirror. You don’t bother fastening the ties. Your upscale lingerie need not be hidden from the penthouse staff. It covers your modesty well enough that your father doesn’t see a problem with it, either. It’s your home after all, why shouldn’t his beloved daughter feel comfortable here?

You remain bare foot, you find the cold flooring soothing when you venture through the penthouse. Plus, why would you cover up your new pedicure with house shoes? You're followed by Ren as you exit the bedroom. She doesn’t outright say that you should reconsider your plans, but the insinuation is very much evident in her tone. You both quieten a little as you hear voices from downstairs. They’re both familiar but you can’t quite place who the voice is that doesn’t belong to your father. But that isn’t any of your concern. You descended the staircase, just to halfway, before speaking your piece.

“Daddy I need some money,” you express looking down at your feet, making sure you don’t miss a step. Two sets of eyes hone in on you. You beam as you finally realise who the secondary voice belongs to. He smiles back at you, his trademark scar pulling as he does. “Uncle Toji!” you exclaim.

“Long time no see, gorgeous.” Toji responds. You attempt to go to him. To wrap your arms around him and give him a tight squeeze to make up for not seeing him for such an extended period. Ren grabs your wrist to prevent you from going any further. You turn to her and scowl, but it soon dissipates when your father pipes up.

“Don’t call him that, and don’t come any closer!” he barks at you. Your furrowed brows turn to ones of confusion, your vision alternates between the two men in search of an answer. But one doesn’t come. You look at Toji with pleading eyes, hoping he’ll be the one to invite you into his arms. You’ve always referred to him as your uncle. He’s been an important presence in your life, and you thought he was a good friend of your dad’s. But are they at odds for some reason?

“Do as he says babe and don’t worry that pretty head of yours. Just stay put f’me, yeah?” he commands.

Tension is rife through the air. You remember your father’s terrified voice as he commanded you to get in the car that night at the theatre. And it was all too familiar in his voice yet again. What is he so afraid of? Surely not Toji. Right? Your heart beats a little quicker as Toji’s angle changes, if only slightly. You can get a better look at him.

Toji has never been one for showing off much of his body; despite his fantastic physique. Often wearing turtlenecks and blazers or dusters to compliment them. But today, he’s wearing a shirt. A grey shirt with most of the buttons popped. How have you known him for so many years and never noticed he’s covered in tattoos? He rakes his fingers through his hair, using the tie around his wrist to pull most of it into a half-bun. Those obsidian locks have been hiding a dragon tattoo behind his ear for all of your life, too. You don’t think about that too much. But when he juts out his arms to roll his already rolled-up sleeves further up his arms, you notice more tattoos. And what’s scary is, they’re reminding you of the stranger at the theatre. Are they connected, somehow?

“W-What’s, um- What’s going on here?” you wonder. Toji huffs an amused exhale through his nostrils, and that is the most response you get to your question. He has no desire to answer you, all of his attention is instead focused on your father.

“You owe me some money.” he begins. “A lot of money, in fact.”

This couldn’t be real. Your father is a wealthy, successful man. Why would he need to borrow money from someone else? You must have heard wrong. It had to be the other way around. Your father had no reason to need money from another person. He has money, and lots of it.

“Toji, please, don’t do this now. I don’t have it, don’t do this in front of my daughter.” your father speaks as calmly as he can, with a still distinct tremble behind his words. “There’s nothing I can do, I can’t give you what I don’t have so please just leave.” he pleads.

Both you and Ren are in a state of panic and unable to move. She still has a dangerously tight grip on your wrist, and you feel her frightened vibrations making your own body shake. You can’t face her. You can’t comfort her. You’re both drawn to the large, tattooed figure pacing slowly around the room below you. A sadistic grin on his face as one foot steps in front of the other. Your breath hitches in your throat, and Ren gasps quietly as you both realise Toji has a gun wedged behind his back in his trousers. His tongue runs along his top row of teeth as he alternates between looking at you and your father.

“Megumi, get in here!” he yells deafeningly loudly. You’re certain you feel the room quake from his voice alone. You don’t like where this is going. The situation is already precarious without bringing another party into a mix. And against your better judgement, against your rationale, you can’t help but feel that you are about to see a familiar face. But really, what are the odds? Apparently high, because now your heart is beating in your ears as he enters the room.

The younger man walks in, and your mind is racing. You know, already, who he is to your ‘uncle’ Toji. How couldn’t he have told you? Both him and your father. He recognised Megumi that night at the theatre. He knew exactly who he was, that’s why he was so scared. How could neither of them have told you that Toji had a son? The resemblance is uncanny, especially when they’re both dressed so similarly. They both have tattoos akin to one another. And when Megumi’s head turns away from you, you notice that very same dragon tattoo behind his ear.

You’ve never felt so stupid, so imbecilic in your entire life. Your sweet uncle Toji is actually involved in organised crime, the criminal underworld. How your father found himself in this kind of trouble, you have no idea. And actually it might be better that you don’t know. You want to call out to your father. You want to be by his side and wave a magic wand so everyone in the penthouse can escape with their lives. But a niggling sensation gnaws in your mind as you fear that people’s lives will be lost tonight.

“Did you really think you were going to get away with ripping us off?” Megumi questions as he stands proudly by his father’s side.

“Hang on Megumi, maybe, we could come to some sort of arrangement.” Toji starts stepping closer to your father. All you can think about is the gun behind his back. The gun that can easily make you become an orphan in an instant. “We’re all reasonable adults here, yeah?”

“Y-Yes! Thank you Toji, that’s what I’ve been trying—”

“For example,” Toji interjects. He’s leading up to a point you’re certain neither you nor your father will like. “You may not have the money… But you have her.” he speaks as he points in your direction.

Too many voices are speaking at once as Ren finally lets you out of her grip. Your father yelling about how you’ve done nothing wrong, and that they need to leave you out of his mess. Megumi is yelling at him to shut up. Ren grabs both of your hands. And she’s screaming at you. Really screaming her lungs out. It captures Toji’s attention as he observes your interaction.

“You need to run!” she screeches.

But before she can turn around to help you run away, splatters of red fly through the air. You feel it collide with your face and your eyes instinctively close. There’s a ringing in your ears, it’s like nothing you’ve ever heard in your life. When your eyes re-open, you see Ren in an uncomfortable position on the staircase and about to slump downwards. There is impact on the right side of her head. And an exit wound on the left. It looks like her head has detonated from the inside. You feel sick as you examine your surroundings and taste copper on your tongue. There is an explosion of blood against the pristine white walls, a mixture of blood and brain matter. You want to gag as you realise it is in your mouth, too. But you can’t. All you can think about is how your surrogate mother is just as dead as your real one.

Your head turns like machinery. Small stops and starts as your face turns to see the source of the gunfire. But you already know. Toji is standing with a viscous look on his features, eyes wide and yet still chillingly calm. Like he does this thirty times a day with no remorse. Your mind plays how seamlessly the man must have reached behind his back and positioned the gun forwards to target your dear housekeeper. You're shuddering and shaking, unsure how to proceed. Toji’s eyes move to find Megumi’s. He tilts his head in your direction, and it is a clear instruction to his son. He instantly moves in your direction.

“DON’T!” your father bellows, “RUN, GET AWAY FROM HERE!” he calls to you.

There’s no chance you’d get away from either of them if you continued downwards. Megumi was already at the bottom of the stairs before you can blink, and Toji could easily shoot you if you tried to sprint out to the elevator. It’s going to lead to your inevitable capture, but if you’re smart you’ll be able to fight him off and hide. You run upstairs. You try your best to not slip over in Ren’s blood while your feet are bare as you hurry upwards.

You hope Megumi has never been here without your knowledge. You’ll have the advantage of knowing your home better than him. You turn the corner and Toji watches on nonchalantly as you do your best to evade capture. Megumi isn’t running, either. He’s stalking. Hunting for his prize, and he too knows that it’s an imminent capture.

“She’s worth a fortune, that kid of yours.” you hear Toji tell your father before you completely disappear from the scene.

The surge of adrenaline is keeping you going as you try to decide where to go first. You’re hoping to lure Megumi away enough that there is a chance you can run downstairs to safety. But your legs take you somewhere you didn’t want to go. The last place you wanted to fucking go.

Your bedroom.

It’s too late to run back out now, he’ll spot you instantly. You have to think. And think, carefully. You grab your phone from your side table and run to hide in your closet. Little fingers typing as quickly as they can to alert your friends of the situation, hopefully one of them can call the police and they’ll be able to rescue you from the fate of being trafficked. You hear footsteps in the distance, nearing closer, and closer. You pick up a shoe, although you feel stupid. If Toji has a gun it’s very likely that his son does too. And what the fuck are you going to do with a shoe? You cover your mouth in an attempt to stablize your breathing as you hear him open the creaky bedroom door. You’re a fucking idiot. Opening a creaking door and slamming it closed after yourself. No wonder he found you so quickly.

“Not very smart to hide in your own bedroom.” he taunts. Clearly trying to rattle you even more so he can detect your location. “Are you under… here?” you hear him question as he drops to one knee, peeping under your bed. He stands tall again and kicks the bedframe when he realises you aren’t that stupid. But that only leaves one more place that you could be hiding.

His intimidating presence looms on the outside of the wardrobe door. He kicks it. Sending shivers down your spine. You jump in fear and an involuntary yelp exits your throat.

“Theeeere she is, my fuckin’ pay day.” he smirks when he hears your exposing whimper. You’re quivering like you never have before. The pathetic shoe in your hand is your only weapon, and you’re unsure this is even worth the effort. It’s an unfair fight, after all. “Come out… Come out.” he enunciates as he rips the doors open so harshly you’re surprised they didn’t tear off their hinges.

He looked a little confused as you weren’t standing in his line of sight, he had assumed you’d be standing up ready to run when he opened the doors. His manic smile dropped as did his vision as he noticed you crouched down on the ground. With a loud grunt you drove your high heel into his right thigh.

“Fuck!” he yelled as he reached down to hold his leg in an attempt to assuage the sting.

The heel was wedged in tight, even without you driving it in further it stayed in place. You took the opportunity to stand to your feet and make your get away. Before you ran, you twisted the heel in deeper and shoved the assailant backwards onto the ground. You didn’t hesitate to kick him in the ribs and stamp on his head a few times for good measure.

Before you flee from your bedroom, you pick up a trophy from your shelf from your school days. A heavy hockey trophy, gold of course. It’s bound to be a better weapon than the shoe you used. You make a beeline for the stairs. You know Toji will stop you from leaving but you need to at least try to get to the elevator.

“Hey, you fucking cunt.”

You squeal as you realise Megumi is hot on your tail. A plan formulates in your mind and you run inside the nearest bathroom. He’s quick to anger when he hears the door lock behind you. Do you really think he won’t kick it in if you don’t start to co-operate? He gives you the benefit of the doubt; knocking loudly in hopes that you’ll answer to him. His voice gets louder and louder as he beckons you to open up for him. And to his surprise, you do. He doesn’t see you immediately. So the further the door opens, he peers inside.

With all of the strength you have, you crush the door against his body. A string of obscenities tumble from his lips. He’s forced to stumble backwards, giving you yet another chance to escape. It doesn’t quite work out that way though. As you try to run by him, he grabs your wrist. With your free hand, you raise your heavy trophy high threatening to cave his skull in. But as you raise your weapon, he presents his own. A handgun as black as his dilated pupils pointing directly between your eyes.

“What d’ya think baby? S’that lil trophy of yours gonna get me faster than this gun’ll get you?” he questions, mockingly. “You put up a good fight, you’re not the dumb princess I had you down for.” he adds.

“You don’t have to do this…” you whisper pointlessly. He’s right, you aren’t a dumb princess. And you know as well as he does that there’s nothing you can say to change his mind about taking you. Your father may as well be pointing this gun at you himself. And then a realisation shoots through your brain. “You’re not going to kill me. Because I’m worth something to Toji, aren’t I?”

“Clever girl. I won’t kill you but that doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you, maybe take your fucking kneecaps out so you’ll stop running from me.” he expresses with a wicked grin on his face, very reminiscent of his father’s. “And my father won’t hesitate to put a bullet between your father’s eyes. So are you going to start being a good girl?”

Your father’s death on your conscience was not something you could bear. You nodded. And you let your trophy fall out of your hand and put a dint in the floor below you. He lowered his gun, inching just a little closer to you. He gently tucks a stray hair behind your ear, and when you turn your face away from him, he uses his gun to force your vision back to him. You do your best to keep your composure as the cold metal ventures down your body. He’s studying the way your skin interacts with it. You jolt when you feel it traverse over the raised flesh of your breast, the action causing Megumi’s eyes to snap back to yours.

“Is it cold? Or, did you like it?”

You ignore him as he uses the end of his gun to force your silk gown open so he can have a better look at your body. You’ve never regretted the decision to not dress more appropriately in your life. He’s drunk on the sight of you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted you for himself, not a client. Your clit throbs as he cups one of your breasts and rubs his thumb over your clothed nipple. Regardless, you stay strong, you can’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. A gasp leaves your lungs as you’re spun around. The barrel of the gun poking directly into your lower back and a handful of your breast grabbed once again by your attacker. He settles his head next to yours, and you find yourself tilting yours so he can whisper in your ear.

“That’s more like it… Good. Good fucking girl.”

“Please—”

“You look good in red, y’know?” he declares. Interrupting your sentence with no care or remorse. “Toji! I got her, lets go.” Megumi calls down the stairs as he begins leading you towards them. The comment about you wearing red was a crushing reminder that your housekeeper’s blood was splattered all over your body and you’d soon have to walk passed her corpse.

“Please don’t hurt my father.” you request, too confident to be considered begging. The cool gun jabs harsher into the base of your spine causing you to wince. Megumi snarls, clearly irritated with your bold sentence.

“You’re not calling the shots around here babe, we’ll do whatever the fuck we want with him.”

It was surprising that you weren’t brought to some sort of criminal hideout and locked away in a dank, dreary basement. For some reason, you’d been brought to the Fushiguro’s home. It was just those two, as far as you were aware. They took care of you, all things considered. Days turned to weeks. Pleads to be let free turned to warm greetings to your abductors. Toji seemed to be back to the Toji you’d always known, uncle Toji. Whereas Megumi was a little colder. But you were sweet to him nonetheless.

One day he brought an iPad into your room and showed you a photograph of someone. It was a man. A large, obese, man. He looked perverse in more ways than one and had the creepiest smile on his face.

“What do you think of him?” Megumi asked. You didn’t speak. Your eyes watered a little as you shook your head. “He’s paying a high price for you, baby. So you better start liking him.”

“N-No! Don’t wanna go with him! Wanna stay… With you.” you told him.

He smiled, earnestly. Crouching down on the balls of his feet as he stroked your cheek. It was so gentle and sweet. And it made him grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back all the more shocking.

“Open.” he instructed. You did as you were told, opening your mouth wide enough for him to deposit a spit glob into. “Swallow it.” and you did. Because despite everything he’d done to you, you wanted to be good. To prove yourself to him.

“Megumi—”

“Don’t like the man who wants to pay us a good fortune for you? Hm? Don’t wanna be good and make me rich?” he quizzes. You shake your head again, scrunching your eyes shut tight.

“Just wanna be with you, Megumi.”

“Tough.”

“Do you want to keep her?” Toji asks his son as he stands casually stirring a spoon in his coffee mug. He looks at Megumi with a teasing, knowing look in his eye. He knows his kid better than he knows himself, and he can tell that one way or another, he’s fallen for you.

“No, I—”

“Look, I’m not asking if you want to marry her. Do you wanna fuck her, ‘cause ya can.” he informs Megumi.

“Yeah?” Megumi questioned, genuine happiness seeping into his speech.

“Course you fuckin’ can, who’s gonna stop you?”

“What about—?”

“That fat prick hasn’t paid a penny, so she’s ours. He can go fuck himself, if you want her – she’s yours. What’s he gonna do? Kill us? I’d like to see him try.”

Once Megumi had been given the green light from his old man, he found himself back in your presence. He instructed that you lie with your body back against his. And of course, you complied. Anything to please Megumi. You were in complete silence as he stroked his fingers through your hair. It was nice. The nicest he’d been since you got here, actually.

“When was the last time you had sex?” he asked you, so fucking casually. As if you hadn’t been sitting together without a word exchanged for over an hour. You tried to sit up to face him; but he pulled you back down into his chest once again. “Tell me.”

“I can’t remember. Over a year ago now, I’m sure.” you admit.

“Okay.” he tells you. You’re worried. Unsure if that was the right or wrong thing to say. Uncertain of whether he was going to get angry with you. Should you have lied? “I want to fuck you. Today. Right now, actually.”

“That makes sense. Your erection has been digging into my back for thirty minutes.” you tease.

Air is knocked from your lungs when he throws you down so you're flat on your back and cages you in beneath him. A hand sinks into your panties and your eyes roll back at the contact.

“Are you really going to try and mock me when your pussy is this wet?”

You shudder when his fingers are taken away from your heat. He stands to his feet and you worry he might be leaving again. In an even worse turn, he’s holding his gun. He holds it by his crotch, snapping his fingers and summoning you to your knees. You comply, quickly scurrying to the ground to appease him.

“Suck. Get it nice ‘n wet for me.”

Your jaw drops low to welcome the intimidating, phallic weapon into your mouth. The barrel is wider than you anticipate, making it a little more difficult than you were prepared for. It tastes horrible; but you aren’t sure what else you’d expected. It’s metal, it was never going to be a pleasant experience. You gag when he forcefully pushes your head further onto it and you feel it assault your uvula, your mouth painfully stretched open to accommodate the girth. He yanks you off when your eyes water and you sputter and cough from the abuse. But he forces you on once again when you catch your breath. He didn’t say you could stop, after all. But your licking and sucking soon fails to amuse him any longer.

He sets his gun aside as he helps you to your feet. You feel him grab fistfuls of your panties and tear them apart. The aggressive act makes you whimper ever so slightly, and you whimper even more when he pushes down on your shoulders – indicating that he wants you on your knees again. Your heart stops when he picks the gun up once again. He forces the length against your slick heat, biting his lip when he sees you squirm a little on it. He can already see how drenched it is without you doing anything at all.

“Fuck yourself on my gun.” he commands. You’re reluctant, it’s dangerous. You don’t want to do that. But Megumi isn’t the type to take no for an answer. “One call and you’re getting shipped off to be another man’s whore. Do you want that? Or do you wanna hump my gun like the dumb puppy you are?” he challenges.

Without speaking, you begin to rut on the sopping wet weapon with tears streaming down your eyes. Megumi thinks it’s cute. You look good when you’re doing as you're told. When you’re being obedient. But that isn’t good enough for Megumi. You need to answer his question. He uses his free hand to grab a fistful of your hair.

“What are you? Humping my gun like this, tell me what you are.”

“I-I’m a, I’m—” you sniffle, finding it difficult to get the words out. “I’m a dumb… A dumb p-puppy.” you confess.

Without warning, Megumi hocks a spit glob onto your face. “That’s right. My dumb puppy. My little slut.” he speaks, his words are degrading but you feel warm and fuzzy at the thought of being his. It’s loving, affectionate. “Y’look so fuckin’ good riding my gun like that.”

“Want you Megumi, please? Fuck me properly.” you plead.

Desperate to feel his cock stretch you out for the first time. He spits at you again, the glob landing directly on your eyelid. You don’t complain though, like the good girl you are you just sit and take it. He thinks you look so pretty with his spit covering your face. The picture of perfect obedience.

“Make yourself cum first.”

And you can’t. You can’t! Doesn’t he understand? You just can’t. But he looks so angry. He looks disappointed, too. All in one devastating expression. You’re meant to be his good girl. So you try harder. You rut against his gun harder. Doing your best to get the friction you need from the cold metal against your sensitive clit. He tucks your hair behind your ear and holds your cheek delicately. His forehead rests against yours. He’s telling you that you can do this. That you’re incredible. Such a good girl for him. So you cum with a cry. He kisses away your tears and praises you as you unfurl around the metal weapon.

“Thaaaaaat’s it! Good girl. That’s my little slut.”

He slides the gun across the floor out of reach from you both and relief washes over you. Thank God you won’t have to do anything like that again. You’re soon hoisted back up onto the bed with your legs spread open. Your knees are to your chest and your breathing is erratic. You keen for him when you feel him spit twice onto your sex. Once on your sensitive clit, and again directly into your hole. Your eyes roll back into your head when he forces two fingers in your unused hole. He curls them upwards and revels at the sight of you gripping the bed sheets until your knuckles turn white.

“So sensitive for me… Wanna get this puppy cunt ready for my cock.”

His free hand flies up to cover your mouth when the beginnings of a scream fall from your lips as his latch onto your cunt. He normally wouldn’t care, but he doesn’t want to risk disrupting his erratic father. He sucks harshly on your clit, the suction making your legs writhe and beneath him. The lethal combination of his tongue and fingers have you nearing your undoing almost instantly. You hum through his hand, and he understands. You’re close. You’re gonna cum for him. And you do. Your slippery arousal covering his pretty face. You feel a hand connect with your sex and your body jolts, hips bucking towards him.

“Hands and knees, now.” he spoke menacingly. You flipped over and crawled further onto the bed so that Megumi could get comfortable behind you. He stood to his feet, finally getting undressed. You didn’t get a good look at his cock since he shoved your heads down into the mattress. “This isn’t for you; this is for me.”

He was rough with you. Not caring to make it last long or having any interest in your pleasure. Why should he? He’s made you cum twice already. And yet, even without trying, you’re close once again as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. The sound of your gorgeously wet cunt squelches obscenely and you can’t help but feel embarrassed. You’re so sensitive from cumming twice already, you’re on the precipice of your third. You feel more of Megumi’s warm spit on your body when some lands on your back.

“M-Megumi, can I? Can I cum?” you cry into the soft foam beneath you.

“Y-Yeah, you can… – shit baby – fucking cum again for me.”

So you do. Your walls grip his cock tight and attempt to squeeze him for everything he’s worth. But he remains strong. He doesn’t want to cum inside. While your pulsating cunt eases up on him, he slips his cock out of you. As desperate as you are to be filled to the brim with Megumi’s milk, he tells you that is something you’ll have to earn. He fucks into you until the last possible second, pulling out to paint your back in his creamy white seed.

He watches on, beguiled by the way his spit and cum merges and creates a pretty shimmer on your back. He’s always enjoyed spitting on his favourite sluts. His best girls. The ones worthy of his DNA.

But you… You’re definitely his favourite.

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𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐒 | 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the journey of how you meet dabi one night and slowly soften him up for you

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a repost from my old blog

It was always risky walking home late at night at this hour on this side of town, and you only had to live here for a little while longer, but you hoped, silently prayed, that you could make through the next few months without having an encounter with villains—which had grown all too frequent in this area. You’d been hoping to be able to evade their plots as they lurked through the shadows until you could move closer to where the heroes were seemed far. And this side of town wasn’t for those that were naive like you—tonight was full proof of that.

You heard a small groan, almost inaudible, but you’d caught it come from the alley right by your apartment. You shouldn’t look, you knew that. But as you took another step, you heard a hiss of pain, and a force brought you to turn and head straight to the dark alley, hesitantly speaking up.

“Uhh hello? Is someone there?” Silence. Utter silence. But you stepped forward closer. The more you walked in, the hotter it got, heat radiating around you. “Are… are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?”

“Call someone and see if you make it out alive,” the voice spat. A shiver ran down your spine. And suddenly, you were able to make the figure out clearer. A man with singed scars and staples littering his body, slumped against the wall, smoke emitting from his skin. Poor thing, you thought like a fool. He’d threatened to kill you, and here you were, feeling sorry for his condition.

“Okay,” you said softly. “I won’t call anyone. You need help though, wanna come to my apartment? You can take a cold bath.” He looked at you, gaze piercing through your figure, trying to decide whether you were just an utter fool, or if you were trying to (but poorly failing to) play smart with him. He quickly realized you truly were just dumb, and had he not been in pain, he’d have laughed.

“You’re offering me a cold bath in your apartment to help feel better?” You nodded. “You’re kinda stupid. Just so you know, you should say your prayers when it comes to me, doll.”

“I have food if your hungry, you seem like you’ve been here for a while.” This time, despite the pain that shot through his skin, he did laugh.

-

“Here, just drain the water when it starts to get warm and refill the tub with new cold water. Here’s a rag you can put on your forehead if you’d like. I’ll go make dinner. Is there anything you’d like?” The man looked at you with a raised brow. He decided he might as well make good use off of you, his strength had returned enough to where he could just kill you if you’d turned out to try and cross him.

“I don’t like fish. Don’t make that.”

“Okay, it should be ready in about 30 minutes. I uh… I have old sweatpants and shirts from an ex. They’ll fit you, so you can wear those while I wash your clothes.” He nodded.

“Okay, whatever you say.”

And so began your tradition of starting a cold bath for him and making him dinner as he came into your apartment every few days, finding shelter in your unsuspected home from the authorities as he tried to soothe his burning skin. He didn’t talk too much to you at first, and questions about him were absolutely not a possibility, but eventually, he began to ask you little bits about yourself, piecing together a basic story to your background.

“What’s your name doll? First name.”

“Y/n.”

“This side of towns not for naive little fools like you, you know. What’re you doing here?”

“Well, it’s cheaper here while I finish my studies. I’m almost done, and then maybe I can get a better job.”

“What you got no parents to stay with while you do that?” You looked at your plate for a moment, pondering your next words.

“I moved in with my ex boyfriend, but he uh… he wasn’t exactly who I thought he was.” He raised a brow at you.

“Same one who’s sweats I’ve been parading around in?” You chuckled softly, nodding. Somehow, seeing you laugh didn’t make him want to burn a hole through your chest.

“Yeah, that’s the one. He left me after a few months, and I’m kinda to ashamed to go running back to my parents and admit they were right. So here I am.”

“You’re living in the worst part of town alone because of your pride?” Well, that was one way to put it. You blinked at him for a moment before shrugging.

“I guess you could say that.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’ve got more guts than I gave you credit for. I like it, y/n.” And you liked the way he said your name. You didn’t dare ask him for his, content with the progress you’d made tonight. He’d call you by your name. He wouldn’t just get your attention through a quick ‘hey’ anymore.

-

A few weeks passed by, and dinner with him became something you looked forward to every few nights. He always knocked on your window three times, a pause in between the first and second knock, letting you know it was him. Slowly, things had changed slightly around your apartment to accommodate him. More sweatpants and shirts had been bought, groceries were brung home a bit more in quantity, and the silverware and dishes began to sit in the washing machine as enough for two now, instead of one. His visits were a bit more frequent now too, not just for the cooling down after a particularly nasty use of his quirk anymore, but sometimes to just relax somewhere more private, and bask in the peace your presence had brought him. You knew he wasn’t exactly a good man, you could tell there was blood on his hands that even though he didn’t point out, it was obvious. But he didn’t hurt you, and he didn’t seem to reach over and burn random civilians. So, you assumed there was more to him, a man who did not good things because of his own personal beliefs, law and rules be damned. You couldn’t exactly hate him for that, the world was a bit skewed, it favored certain individuals while discarding others to the side. Maybe he was one who was discarded, feeling the cold and unforgiving reality of not being enough. So you looked the other way, not warning to break the rhythm that had developed between the two of you. Tonight, the rhythm had further developed.

“Gonna need to spend the night on the couch again doll, the police have been on the streets a bit more than usual.” You smiled, washing the dishes as he watched.

“That’s okay. I’ll set up the blankets for you in a minute.” Nodding, he drummed his fingers on the edge of your table, looking around.

“You ever think about redecorating your place? It’s kind of a drag in here.” You turned to him with a raised eyebrow, and he looked at you with a wide grin.

“Are you really in a place to be picky about interior design? What other interiors do you get to compare this to anyway?” He chuckled a little.

“Guess you’re right. But my points not exactly wrong either.”

“Well, maybe if someone carried their weight around here, things would look a bit better,” you said playfully. He raised his hands in mock surrender.

“You don’t seem to appreciate my company that I offer your cold lonely life anymore.”

“Who said I was lonely?”

“Name one friend you’ve hung out with in the last few weeks.” He had a point.

“Whatever, I’m just a rare gem that people haven’t found yet. Quite underrated if you ask me.” In truth, you avoided making friends, too focused on finishing school, and too cautious of scoundrels like your ex. You supposed the two of you were similar in that way, only focused on your goals and no one else in between. But somehow, you’d wormed your ways into each other’s hearts, as much as neither of you liked to admit. He chuckled once more, shaking his head.

“If ya say so.” You set up the couch for him and made your way to your room after quietly saying your goodbyes, he’d be gone by morning time after all. Turning onto your side in your own bed, you slowly drifted off to sleep, sighing as you entered a peaceful slumber. But you were rudely awakened a little while after. Someone was screaming inside your apartment. Jolting up, you ran to the living room, seeing him thrash around on your couch, panting heavily. He grunted loudly, before screaming once again. Quickly, you made your way over to him.

“Hey! Hey, wake up! It’s just a nightmare!” You shook his shoulder, hoping he’d open his eyes soon. Just as you went to speak up again, a scorching hot hand grasped your wrist, and wild eyes burst open, glaring at you, animalistic and crazed. You stopped moving, frozen in your spot. Your wrist was hot, and his grip was tight, but you didn’t fight it. “It’s just me, y/n.” He frantically looked around, studying his surroundings, hand still holding your wrist tightly. Slowly, he loosened his grasp, but he didn’t let go. With a surge of courage, you hesitantly reached up, smoothing a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, it was just a nightmare.” He relaxed a little, closing his eyes as you stroked through his hair, letting himself embrace your comfort. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt right, and he didn’t have the will to fight it right now.

“Sorry I woke you doll,” he croaked out. Smiling, you shook your head.

“That’s okay. Here, let me get you some water,” you tried to get up, but once again his hand tightened around your wrist, keeping you in place.

“That’s okay, I don’t need water.” You knew the hidden implication behind that statement. I just need you. You went back to sitting on the edge of the couch, running your fingers through his hair as he grounded himself through your touch. “You… you can call me Dabi. That’s what I go by now.” Suddenly you beamed, finally having a name after weeks to put with his existence. Dabi. It fit well, and you loved it.

“Okay. Well, the couch is kind of small Dabi. Want the bed?” It was bold, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Finally opening his eyes, he looked at you uncharacteristically soft, and slowly nodded.

“Yeah, the bed sounds nice y/n. Let’s go.” That night, you lay on his arm, wrapped up in his warmth. Your hand rubbed circles onto his back, and he let himself feel the way you took care of him. It was nice, he had to admit. It was nice to be valued, to have someone show you small bits of affection to get across to you that they cared. You cared. And suddenly, Dabi realized he did too. He cared about you a lot more than he really should, but he refused to let go of this feeling. Somehow, you’d gotten the roles to reverse. It wasn’t you saying your prayers. It was him. He prayed this time, for once, someone would actually stay. He hoped someone would actually need him, only him, just the way he was.

-

But you were a liar. A cold-hearted scoundrel. You were an untrustworthy low life was what he told himself when he came to your apartment, looking through your window. It was empty. Furniture was gone, and the few decorations had been taken. The apartment was clearly moved out of, and you were nowhere to be found. He laughed, mirth laced in his expression bitterly. He’d told you he’d be gone for a bit longer this time, and you’d gone and run away from him now that you’d had the chance. He’d find you, oh he would. He’d find you and he’d make you regret toying with his heart. But deep down, he knew he’d never be able to hurt you. And for that, he cursed you with his entire existence.

You entered your new apartment, setting down your belongings onto your couch. Suddenly, you froze as you heard the voice behind you.

“Thought you’d be untraceable doll?” The familiar voice spat. Your heart hammered in your chest. He really had found you.

“Dabi,” you breathed.

“Yeah, it’s me. Surprised?” You could hear a small trace of hurt in his voice, and it made your heart shatter a little. Turning to face him, you grinned at him.

“Dabi, you found me!”

“Yeah, I did! I found you after you packed your bags and left, thinking you could run from me! It’s almost like you don’t know who I am,” his voice got deeper at the end, and his eyes narrowed at you. You stood there shocked, not expecting him to react this way. But then again, you supposed there wasn’t much else he could have deduced from your disappearance.

“Dabi I… I didn’t leave. Well, I did, but not to run. I waited for you, I really did! I waited an extra two days but they said I had to let the apartment go, my lease ended, so I left. But I left a note folded on the window, didn’t you see?” He stopped and stared at you, eyes wide. You were lying. You were just like everyone else, he was an idiot for thinking any differently.

“Don’t you try to trick me y/n, don’t forget I’m not the fool here.” Stepping forward, you reached a hand out for him, but he stepped back, flames erupting in the palm of his. For a moment, you paused, but then you only continued closer to him, flames thrown to the back of your head. You were only focused on Dabi.

“Dabi, I’m not tricking you. I wouldn’t. But I guess I am a fool, you’re not entirely wrong. But it’s only because… well because I love you.” The flames slowly withered away, and he stood there, staring at you. His eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of lies, but he couldn’t find a single drop of anything other than truth in your demeanor. Slowly, your arms wrapped around him, and his body began to tense up in your hold. “Dabi, it’s okay,” you whispered. “It’s me, you can always trust me. I knew you’d find me, I’ve been waiting for you.” If he could cry, maybe he would have in that moment. Somehow, you’d effortlessly stitched back the gaping hole you’d left in him, leaving no trace of a scar. All at once, the waves crashed in on him, and he grasped your waist tightly, burying his head into your neck.

“You waited for me?”

“Every day.”

“You love me?”

“So much.” He let out a shaky breath.

“Why?”

“Because you’re extraordinary.” And he was. He was amazing in every way. He was broken glass, shattered and ruined, sharp and dangerous. But slowly, he’d taken the pieces, sat through sharp cuts and bleeding hands, and rebuilt himself, turning himself into a mosaic that was an utterly beautiful sight once given the chance to see. He’d given you that chance to see, and how could you not fall in love with the sight? How could you not be pulled into the perfectly crafted piece of art that was Dabi, once the rough edges and tough exterior had been looked past? He was everything you wanted and more. And slowly, as he began to shake in your arms, you brought him closer, rubbing circles into his back like you always did when he needed something to ground him. Only this time, you planted a soft kiss to the side of his head, something that further healed the wounds he’d been nursing.

“I… I love you too.”

“I know. I can see that. I’m not that much of a fool.” And finally, he let out a breath, this time one of relief, as he let himself chuckle at your claim. You were most certainly a fool, but he was ever grateful that you were. Only a fool could love him, but he’d spend his days shielding you from anything that tried to harm you. He pulled his head out of your neck before cupping your cheeks and kissing you with more emotion than he’d had in a long time. Dabi loved you, and if anyone ever tried to come between the two of you, they’d better say their prayers.

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