Movie Enjoyers, Stop Calling Films "objectively Bad" Challenge. You're Not Saying Anything. You're Saying

AMORIA - act I

Warnings: finger fucking, humiliation, spanking, threesome, double pu**y penetration, oral (m & f receiving), squirting, asphyxiation, Dabi being Dabi, creampie, unprotected s*x, Shiggy is the boss, spit is everywhere, so is cum, more than 13k words (8k words for smut itself - you've been warned!), alcohol usage, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fem!reader

Synopsis: after a breakup, you found yourself at a club infamous for being frequented by villains, desperate to drown out all the bad memories. That’s where you encountered two of the most powerful villains — Shigaraki Tomura and Todoroki Touya, formerly known as Dabi. Upon discovering and testing your quirk, an idea began to take root in Tomura’s mind. And naturally, why stop there? Why not test your other talents too?

AMORIA - act II (to be added) AMORIA - playlist MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Waking up felt like crawling through fog, each blink a struggle against the dim, dizzy haze leftover from last night’s drinks. Blurred flashes came and went, half-formed memories that made little sense. The heaviness settled in slowly, the realization that this wasn’t your bed striking a second before something shifted against your waist. 

A scarred arm draped loosely around your waist, its calloused fingers brushing your bare skin with a possessive kind of laziness, the rough pads of fingers brushing over the curve of your abdomen. Breath, hot and slow, fanned across your nape with each rise and fall of the man's chest. Dabi lay pressed against you, his white hair a tousled mess that grazed your shoulder, his sharp features softened just enough by sleep to make you forget, for a moment, how dangerous he really was. Even in sleep, he moved with a casual possessiveness, shifting closer, pressing his frame firmly against your back, grinding his slack cock against your bare ass from time to time. The warmth radiating from Todoroki felt alive, almost searing, as though the man behind you burned hotter than anything should.

The pounding in your skull throbbed with each inhale, a dizzying reminder of just how much you’d had to drink last night. The haze hadn’t lifted yet, your thoughts murky, slippery, and impossible to pin down. Bracing yourself, you blinked slowly, inhaling through parted lips as the sheer weight of his body pressed you further into the mattress. Shifting slightly, you turned, trying not to jolt yourself awake too quickly, and that’s when you saw him.

Tomura was sprawled out on your left, his wiry frame half-splayed across the mattress. His chest rose slowly, bare and warm. One hand was tucked under his head, elbow bent lazily, while the other rested on your hip. He still wore his protective glove. If he hadn’t, you knew what a single slip might mean.

A soft sound escaped your lips - something between a gasp and a whimper - as you shifted your legs, and that’s when you felt it. The unmistakable slickness between your thighs, sticky, cold and raw, made you freeze. The memories slammed into you like a tidal wave, fragments of last night piecing themselves together.

Hands - scarred, rough, and demanding - roaming over your plushy skin, leaving trails of bruises in their wake. Mouths pressed against yours, against your neck, your chest, your thighs, your pussy, taking and claiming every inch of you. The sound of low voices, rasping commands and dark praises that made your body shudder. Your skin still felt branded, marked by their touch, every nerve tingling as if it were reliving the night in flashes. 

Shifting your hips again, the motion earned another quiet sound that you couldn’t suppress, and the arm wrapped around your waist tightened slightly in response. Dabi stirred, a low, guttural hum rumbling in his chest, his lips brushing faintly against the curve of your shoulder. His fingers flexed against your abdomen, pulling you closer with a lazy dominance that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Don’t start squirming unless you’re ready for round two,” came his voice, gravelly with sleep but still laced with that dark, teasing edge. He didn’t even open his eyes, his body already responding to the subtle movements of yours, hips rolling just enough to remind you exactly how tangled the three of you had been hours before.

On your other side, Tomura’s gloved fingers pressed lightly into your hip, his red eyes cracking open just enough to watch you through the veil of his lashes. A voice, dark and dripping with mockery, cut through the haze. "Oh, sweet thing, you’re finally awake.” Shigaraki slowly moved his hand up your body, caressing the curve of your waist and reaching your chin in the end. His thumb and index finger clamped around your chin, firm and unyielding, tilting your head with a deliberate force that left no room for resistance. "What a perfect morning for us, don’t you think, Dabi? I can’t fucking wait to ruin that pretty pussy of hers all over again. And don’t you even think about leaving us, Amoria. You’re ours, now and forever."

The club pulsed with heavy bass, each beat reverberating in your chest, and a thick haze of smoke clung to the air, a cocktail of cigarettes, weed, and cheap perfume mixing with the ever-present burn of alcohol. It was the kind of place you were warned to avoid, especially alone - one of those places where villains went to disappear, blend into the night like smoke. 

But after tonight? Warnings didn’t mean much. The sting of a fresh breakup had driven you straight into the dark, to the kind of place that would swallow up your thoughts and leave you numb. No one you knew would set foot here, especially alone. The criminals and castaways who haunted these walls weren’t just rumors; they were way too real. But right now, you didn’t care. 

Perched at the bar with one leg hooked over the other, a tight red dress hugging your figure, and a jet-black bag draped over your shoulder, you sipped slowly on something the bartender had called a Blood Moon. A wicked blend of dark rum, cherry liqueur, and a touch of grenadine, it tasted like rebellion in a glass, something that burned on the way down but left just enough sweetness behind to make you want more.

The air grew heavier, thick with tension, and it took you a minute to notice why. 

High above on the VIP floor, two figures lounged in shadows. But it wasn’t the distance that made them unapproachable - it was who they were, and the weight of what they carried. They noticed you, of course. It was impossible not to feel their stares, the way they sized you up, cutting through the smoky air like blades. 

Shigaraki stood above, leaning against the steel railing of the VIP lounge, his posture loose and almost bored. Dressed in a sleek, dark suit that clung to his wiry frame, he seemed a creature entirely his own, something both sharp and unsettling, his presence a chill running through the pulse of the club. His hands, resting on the railing, wore thin black gloves over two fingers on each hand - a careful precaution, one you didn’t want to dwell on. The other fingers tapped rhythmically against the metal, a steady, almost taunting beat.

Next to him, more menace than man, lounged Touya Todoroki - Dabi, though that name was practically useless now. His hair, white as death, fell messily over his eyes, but his gaze - heavy-lidded, cerulean gaze, bored directly into you. It was the kind of stare that looked through you, stripping you bare and seeing every lie, every flaw. Like he’d already decided exactly what to do with you. His white hair was catching the colored lights and casting strange shadows across his face. He wasn’t wearing a suit - of course he wasn’t. His choice of attire was as casual as it was provocative: a black, fitted, buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a mess of scars trailing up his forearms, and ripped jeans that sat low on his hips, held up by nothing more than a thick, black, leather belt. 

Shigaraki’s eyes were assessing you as though deciding what to do with a curiosity he hadn’t planned on. Dabi’s smirk had a different edge - sharper, darker, a look that made your pulse spike in ways you’d never admit out loud. Whatever this was, it wasn’t simple curiosity.

There was no reason to be here. Nothing logical, anyway. The breakup had left you restless, something bitter and rebellious churning in your chest. Revenge on your ex? Maybe. A flirtation with something you shouldn’t have? Probably. Or maybe it was just the need to feel alive, if only for a night, surrounded by people who understood what it meant to live outside the law.

The bartender slid another drink in front of you - a Blow Job. Confused, you looked up. “I didn’t order this.”

He jerked his thumb toward the bar, where Dabi now stood, ordering a fresh bottle of whiskey. His eyes, that unmistakable blue, were locked on you. He didn’t bother looking away, just let his eyes roam over your body, slowly, deliberately, with an intensity that was anything but polite.

“Guess he did,” the bartender shrugged, turning away to tend to someone else.

Dabi raised his drink in your direction, smirk tugging at his scarred mouth, a silent invitation - or maybe a dare.

Dabi didn’t move at first, leaning casually against the bar, his smirk sharp as a knife. The bottle of whiskey dangled loosely from one hand, the other lifting his glass to his lips, eyes never leaving you. His gaze was a slow drag, deliberate, assessing. “Why don’t you come join us upstairs, princess?” His voice was low, gravelly, and loud enough to cut through the music. There was no question in the way he said it - more an invitation wrapped in a command, laced with an edge that made it clear he didn’t hear no very often.

Tilting your head, you gave him a once-over, matching his intensity with your own. “Not interested,” you said, your tone sharp, controlled. “I’m fine right here.”

The smirk widened, and he let out a short, amused laugh. “Yeah?” He leaned closer, setting the glass down on the bar with a sharp clink. “I don’t think you know what you’re turning down, sweetheart.”

Something in the way he said it sent a flicker of heat through you, but you held your ground, your leg crossing over the other as you turned back to your drink. “I’ve got all the excitement I need down here,” you said dryly, lifting your glass with a raised brow.

Dabi didn’t back off. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence radiating warmth that felt too intimate, too deliberate. He dipped his head slightly, his breath brushing your ear as he spoke, low and dangerous. “You shouldn’t play games with people like us. We don’t do soft. We don’t do fair.”

He wasn’t bluffing, and you knew it.

Straightening up, he looked at you again, letting his hand trail along the bar as he stepped back. “But if you’re really not interested…” His shrug was slow, his smirk still carved onto his face as though he knew exactly how this would end. “Suit yourself.”

You hated how your pulse quickened, hated the way the challenge lingered in the air between you. The words don’t do soft repeated in your head, pulling at the threads of your resolve. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the week you’d had, but before you could stop yourself, your feet were moving, heels clicking against the marble floor as you followed him.

He didn’t even check to see if you were coming. The bastard already knew.

The staircase was tucked into the far corner, shadowed and out of sight of most of the club. 

Dabi’s shoulders led the way, the bottle swinging lazily in his grip as if he didn’t care that every eye on the dancefloor followed his movements. The music faded slightly as you ascended, but the air grew heavier, thicker, as though the space above carried its own gravity.

The VIP lounge was dimly lit, the low, amber light reflecting off a sleek, black leather couch where Shigaraki sat sprawled out, one leg hooked lazily over the other. His white hair fell messily over his forehead, a cigarette dangling between two fingers as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke. A lowball glass sat in his other hand, whiskey and ice swirling in lazy circles as he tilted it absentmindedly. His red eyes flicked up as you entered, sharp and cutting, taking you in with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

“Finally brought her up, huh?” His voice was smooth but tinged with that unmistakable edge of boredom, like he couldn’t care less, yet his eyes told a different story. They lingered on you a beat too long, assessing, weighing, before he took another drag from his cigarette.

Dabi shrugged, tossing himself into the opposite end of the couch. “Wasn’t easy,” he said, his smirk never wavering. “She’s got a mouth on her.”

Shigaraki’s lips twitched into something close to a grin, a humorless thing that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good. It’ll make things more interesting.”

You stood at the edge of the room, every instinct screaming at you to leave, but the weight of their gazes pinned you in place. 

Dabi poured a generous amount of whiskey into his glass, then tilted the bottle toward the empty one next to Shigaraki’s. He didn’t ask if you wanted a drink; he poured you one anyway. “Sit,” Dabi growled, nodding toward the space between them on the couch, his voice casual, but there was a command in it that left no room for argument.

Shigaraki’s hand rested on the back of the couch, fingers drumming slowly against the leather as he watched you, waiting. “Unless you’re scared,” the white haired man said, his voice soft, almost mocking, a challenge hanging on every syllable.

Something in your chest tightened. Pride or stubbornness - maybe both - kept your feet moving until you lowered yourself onto the couch, your body painfully aware of the heat radiating from both sides. The glass of whiskey was pressed into your hand, Dabi’s long fingers brushing against yours as he handed it over.

“Good girl,” the leader of the League of Villains murmured, leaning back into the couch with a smirk that promised nothing about tonight would be soft.

The leather couch felt sinfully soft beneath you. You cradled the glass of whiskey in your hands. 

The air in the room thickened like tar, suffocating and inescapable.

Shigaraki tilted his head, studying you with the same detached curiosity as a predator playing with its prey. His crimson gaze burned with an intensity that seemed to peel back your skin, exposing something raw and vulnerable beneath.

Your throat felt dry despite the whiskey still warming your hand. Steeling your nerves, you met his gaze head-on. “You’re the leader, right?” Your voice was steady, though you hated how breathless it sounded. “Why would someone like you want someone like me around?”

Shigaraki’s lips curled slowly, something far too knowing glimmering in his eyes. “Someone like you?” he repeated, voice smooth, low, and entirely dangerous. “You underestimate yourself.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearm on his knee, letting his fingers hang loosely, inches from where your thigh rested against the couch. Shigaraki chuckled, a low, dry sound that barely stirred the air. “Let’s say I’m a connoisseur of beauty.” His words were slow, deliberate. “And you,” he continued, letting his eyes drag down your frame in a way that felt like a physical touch, “look exquisite in that dress.”

Dabi snorted from the other end of the couch, his smirk widening as he poured himself another drink. “Connoisseur of beauty,” he repeated mockingly, shaking his head. “You’re so full of pretentious shit, boss.”

Shigaraki didn’t so much as glance at him, his focus locked entirely on you. 

Heat bloomed in your cheeks despite yourself, and you took a longer sip of your drink, hoping it might disguise the faint blush. 

Shigaraki noticed, of course — he didn’t miss much, apparently. His grin widened, a touch of smugness slipping into his expression.

"You're blushing, doll," Dabi pointed out bluntly, his voice dripping with mockery. "That’s fucking adorable."

Shigaraki, clearly entertained, shifted closer. His partially gloved hand reached out, resting lightly on your knee. "So," he drawled, his voice conversational, as though he weren’t sitting far too close for comfort, "what’s someone like you doing in a place like this? This isn’t exactly the scene for someone so soft."

You glanced at him, the faintest flicker of a challenge in your eyes. "What makes you think I’m soft?"

Shigaraki’s lips twitched into a smirk. "You don’t exactly scream villain." He tilted his head, studying you. "But you’ve got an edge. Something’s brought you here. What is it?"

The question lingered, heavy and probing. 

You took a sip of the whiskey, its burn cutting through your nerves as you turned your attention to the man sprawled across from you. You exhaled, feeling the whiskey’s fire loosen your tongue. “My boyfriend cheated on me,” you confessed, bitter and sharp. “With someone I thought was my friend.” You exhaled slowly, setting your glass on the table as you straightened your shoulders. "So, here I am. Figured I might as well see how the other side lives."

Dabi let out a low, wry whistle. "Oh, the little doll has been hurt? How sad must be your life ever since!”

"Cheaters are the worst," Tomura stated matter-of-factly. "But that doesn’t explain why you’d come here of all places. This club isn’t exactly known for its wholesome clientele."

You shrugged, feeling the tension in the room shift slightly. "Maybe I wanted to see if there was anyone left in the world worse than him."

Dabi laughed, a dry, humorless sound that made the corners of his scarred mouth twist upward. 

"Oh, sweetheart," Shigaraki started, his hand leaving your knee to retrieve his cigarette, "you definitely came to the right place." He took a slow drag, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. "But you might want to be careful. Looking for something sharp enough to make you feel again might be a risky move.”

Your breath hitched, but you clenched your jaw, refusing to break under his scrutiny. “Maybe,” you admitted, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “What does it matter to you?”

Tomura’s smirk widened, slow and predatory, as though he’d already won some unspoken game. “It matters because you walked into our world,” he murmured, voice dark as the shadows clinging to the room’s edges. “And I’m curious just how far you’re willing to fall.”

Dabi poured himself another drink, downed it, and set his glass down with a sharp clink. "We don’t fix broken things. We break them further."

His scarred hand lifted, fingers brushing along the curve of your jaw, his calloused thumb briefly rubbing against your lower lip before trailing to your neck, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His long fingers ghosted over your shoulder, where your pulse thudded traitorously fast. Dabi leaned in, inhaling deeply, as if memorizing your scent, the warmth of his breath searing against your skin. He stuck out his tongue and ran it up your pulsepoint.

A cold chill ran down your spine.

“Sweet,” the scarred man murmured, voice low and rough. “You smell so clean, so untouched.”

Shigaraki’s amusement flickered in the curve of his mouth as he reached for the whiskey bottle, pouring another drink for you. “Where do you work?” His tone was casual, but the underlying curiosity felt anything but.

You hesitated, weighing the danger of answering truthfully, but there was no point in lying. They’d sniff out deceit like blood in the water. “Endeavor’s agency,” you admitted carefully. “I handle paperwork.”

The moment the words left your lips, the atmosphere in the room shifted violently, like the air had been sucked from it. 

Dabi’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of raw fury that turned his eyes into blazing shards of ice. His glass hit the nearest wall with a deafening crash, shards of crystal scattering across the floor. The amber liquid smeared down the wallpaper like a wound.

“Endeavor,” Dabi snarled, his voice venomous, the name leaving his lips like a curse. He surged to his feet, towering over you in an instant. “You work for that bastard, cunt?” Touya’s chest heaved, nostrils flaring as though he could still smell Endeavor’s presence clinging to you. The growl in his voice was feral, like a wildfire barely contained. He didn’t wait for an answer, his scarred hands twitching at his sides as if itching to burn something — or rather someone.

Instinct overrode reason, propelling a desperate retreat from the leather couch. The corner of the room felt like a safer haven. Your breath came in short, uneven bursts, heart pounding as you pressed yourself against the wall, putting as much distance as you could between yourself and the sheer force of his rage. “I… It’s nothing but a job… I need to pay rent, to pay bills… And he pays well…”

Tomura rose from his spot slowly, movements fluid and purposeful. He reached Dabi with unhurried ease, his touch strangely tender as his fingers brushed along the edges of that scarred jaw. “Touya.” His voice was soft yet commanding, laced with something purely intimate. 

Dabi’s breath hitched but didn’t slow as his azure eyes were locked on your trembling form, fury still crackling beneath his skin like an electric wire. 

Tomura’s fingers tightened, holding the other man in place — not restraining, but rather grounding. He tilted Dabi’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. “Look at me.” Shigaraki pressed a firm, grounding kiss against the jagged edge of Touya’s scarred jawline. “Breathe,” he murmured against the marred skin, voice softer now, a private thing not meant for anyone else’s ears. “And calm the fuck down.”

Shigaraki didn’t wait for any response from the scarred man. He yanked Dabi closer by the collar of his jacket, crashing their mouths together with bruising force.

A low, guttural sound escaped Dabi’s throat as Shigaraki bit down on his lower lip, dragging his teeth across scarred flesh in a way that was equal parts punishment and possession. Dabi hissed, but instead of pulling back, he leaned in harder, matching the intensity with reckless hunger. His fingers clawed into Shigaraki’s sides, pulling him closer, like he couldn’t bear the distance between them.

Their tongues danced together.

The sight was mesmerizing and intimate, enough to make your heart thud erratically against your ribcage. You watched, your mouth hanging open slightly, a realization dawning — they were a thing, unmistakably so, and they were unabashedly natural about their affection.

Shigaraki finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Dabi’s, murmuring something low you couldn’t hear. 

“Better?” Shigaraki finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dabi exhaled shakily, his scarred lips quirking into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re such a bastard, boss,” he rasped, voice low but lacking any real venom. The tension in his frame eased.

Shigaraki finally turned his attention back to you, his expression calm, composed, as though nothing unusual had just happened. “Why don’t you take a seat over there, doll?” He gestured to a plush leather armchair nearby, his voice cool but not unkind. “Relax, and tell us a bit about your quirk. I’m curious about that part.”

You moved to the armchair, its soft leather embracing your form as you tried to compose yourself. 

Dabi, his earlier fury now cooled, returned to his spot on the couch beside Shigaraki. Rather than pouring himself another drink, he simply grabbed the whiskey bottle, tilting it back for a long, hard swallow, his eyes never leaving your form.

Gathering your nerves, you began, "My quirk is called Amoria," you uttered, your voice steady despite the swirling emotions. "When I kiss someone, I can amplify their quirks, enhancing their abilities beyond their usual limits for a couple of minutes.. And if I am in love with that person, the effect is not only stronger but lasts longer, too."

Dabi set the bottle down with a thud, a smirk playing on his lips, while Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You might actually be more useful than I initially thought,” Dabi remarked, grinning. There was no warmth in his smile, only a sardonic twist of his lips that suggested he saw you not as a person but as a potential tool to be exploited. "Especially with a quirk like that."

Shigaraki, who had been quietly observing the exchange, perked up with a renewed interest that bordered on avid fascination. "I think we need to test this power of yours," Tomura declared, a hint of excitement threading through his usually calm demeanor.

Your heart skipped a beat at the directness of his demand. The thought of kissing Shigaraki, of being so close to someone so dangerously powerful, sent a shiver of fear mixed with a disgust down your spine. You hesitated, your instincts screaming for caution You shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, the weight of their gazes making you feel exposed and vulnerable. "I — I'd rather not," you stammered, trying to muster your courage to deny him.

Shigaraki’s expression darkened at your reluctance. He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper that somehow filled the entire room. “Don’t make me regret my curiosity,” he said, his words carrying a sweet venom. “It would be a shame to have to disintegrate you for withholding such a valuable demonstration.”

The threat, veiled in a veneer of charm, was clear. Swallowing hard, you realized that your options were few and your situation precarious. 

With a heavy heart and mind racing with anxious thoughts, you stood from the armchair and approached Shigaraki and Dabi, the tension palpable. 

Shigaraki's gaze was fixed, predatory, as he watched you come closer. In a swift motion, he reached out and grasped your wrist, pulling you towards him with an unexpected force. 

Caught off balance, your only options were to awkwardly straddle his lap or risk tumbling to the floor. Choosing the former, you settled uneasily atop him, feeling his hands begin a slow, almost explorative motion up and down your waist. His touch was paradoxically gentle, fingers tracing the fabric of your dress as he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent with an almost reverent curiosity. His chapped lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto yours with a piercing intensity.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, Shigaraki moved his gloved hand to your neck, guiding you down into a kiss. His lips were rough, tasting strongly of whiskey and cigarettes. 

As the kiss deepened, a faint glowing aura began to radiate around you, the visual manifestation of your quirk activating under the intimate contact. 

Tomura shifted beneath you, his hands moving to your back to pull you closer, an unspoken demand for more of the power you were unwittingly amplifying. Shigaraki could feel the raw power filling his veins with a raw, unnatural power, every cell in his body seeming to awaken with renewed vigor.

When he finally broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva connected you momentarily, and you whined at the loss of contact. 

Shigaraki's breath was heavy, his eyes alight with a wild sort of exhilaration. "Fuuuck. I've never felt so powerful before," he confessed, his voice hoarse with wonder. He turned to Dabi, his expression one of awe mixed with a fierce triumph. "Not even after months in that tube at the doctor's hideout when I was getting boosted. This is fucking incredible."

"Come here," Shigaraki panted, voice low, roughened by desire and authority. There was no room for disobedience, no chance to escape. His fingertips pressed into the soft curve of your waist, sliding possessively up and down your sides, mapping every inch of skin through the thin fabric of your dress. “Kiss me again,” the leader of the League of Villains demanded, the edge in his voice razor-sharp, leaving no space for refusal. The implied threat lingered, dangerous and undeniable — you knew exactly what he was capable of. One wrong move, one hint of defiance, and he could end you with the barest touch.

So you leaned in for a kiss. 

His mouth crushed against yours, demanding everything. He groaned against your mouth, low and guttural, his body rigid with restraint he was quickly losing. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, sharp and possessive. He never knew someone else’s spit could taste that good. His crimson eyes burned with violent need, pupils blown wide with lust.

Your head spun, breath stolen as his tongue delved deeper, tangling with yours in a battle for control you’d already lost. You gasped against his mouth when his grip on your hips tightened, pressing you down against the hard, unmistakable evidence of his arousal straining beneath his suit pants.

Shit. You were completely, utterly fucked.

A sharp, irritated growl suddenly shattered the charged atmosphere.

Touya's jaw clenched as he watched Shigaraki’s hands roam possessively over your body, his fingers digging into your waist like he owned you. The sight clearly infuriated the scarred man.

Shigaraki didn’t loosen his grip on you, his crimson gaze flicking lazily toward Dabi without a shred of concern. “Don’t forget who the boss is.”

“Thought we were sharing,” Dabi drawled, voice low and threatening. “Didn’t think you’d keep all the fun for yourself, boss.” Dabi yanked you off Shigaraki and forced you to straddle his lap. His kiss was brutal — searing and unforgiving, all teeth and tongue, like he was determined to brand himself into you. 

Suddenly, a heat exploded where his fingers dug into your waist, the surge of your quirk sparking to life as your mouths tangled together. You felt it hit him — a sudden, visceral rush of boosted power crackling beneath his skin like wildfire. 

Dabi broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, his pupils blown wide with lust and power. “Fuck,” he rasped, eyes blazing like molten fire. “Fucking amazing.”

Before you could answer, a sharp snarl tore from Shigaraki’s throat. He was on you in an instant. “She’s fucking mine, Touya,” Tomura snapped, voice low and deadly, every syllable dripping with dangerous intent.

Before you could even steady yourself, Shigaraki yanked you back into his lap with brutal force, his fingers digging possessively into your thighs. You gasped, hands bracing against his chest as he hauled you close, locking you in place.

His tongue forced its way past your lips again, demanding dominance. 

You had no room to resist — not with the way his hips rolled beneath you. You whimpered against his mouth as he rocked his hips into yours again, letting you feel just how hard he was beneath the rough fabric of his pants. The friction was intoxicating, setting every nerve alight with white-hot need. And you discovered you weren’t scared anymore.

Shigaraki broke the kiss just long enough to rasp, "I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard, doll." His voice was raw, wrecked with desire and possessive rage, leaving no room for interpretation. His red eyes gleamed with dark intent, lips twisted into something between a snarl and a smirk.

Your breath hitched, shock and adrenaline colliding in your chest. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think — trapped between two villains driven by lust, power, and an insatiable need to claim what they thought was theirs.

Dabi wiped his mouth with the back of his scarred hand, eyes still blazing with want and jealousy. His tongue flicked over his lower lip, tasting the remnants of your saliva as his gaze snapped to where you were pinned on Shigaraki’s lap, bodies tangled in a possessive, desperate clash of dominance and need. “Oh, so now you get greedy, huh?” Dabi sneered, his scarred lips curling into a mocking smirk. “You’re not the only one who wants a piece of her, Shiggy.” His eyes flicked to yours, sharp and filled with something feral, before settling back on Tomura. “I think I deserve a turn with that little whore after that little taste.”

“Hey, I’m not a whore!” You protested with furrowed brows.

“Oi! Shut the fuck up,” Touya replied dismissively. 

Tomura’s hand sneaked under the edge of your tight dress, boldly rubbing against your clothed pussy. You were oh so hot down there.

You parted your lips, letting out a cute moan as you shivered.

Dabi’s jaw clenched, anger flickering hotly behind his eyes. He tilted his head, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face as he dragged his gaze down your trembling form. “C’mon, boss.” His voice dipped lower, almost coaxing but still dangerous. “You really wanna share her here? In this shitty club, with all these useless extras nearby?” His tongue flicked over his bottom lip as his gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “We could take her back to the hideout. Somewhere private.”

Shigaraki’s lips twisted into a grin, sharp and predatory. He looked at you, tilting your chin up with a single finger, forcing you to meet his unrelenting gaze. “What do you say, sweetheart?” His voice dripped with mock sweetness, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a way that made you shiver. “Hope you are ready to come with us.”

You couldn’t speak, your throat tightening as their intentions became horrifyingly clear, so you just shook your head.

Shigaraki sighed and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “I wasn’t fucking asking.”

Before you could even process the command, Dabi was already moving, improving his leather jacket. His gaze lingered on you, sharp and hungry. “Move your ass,” he warned, his voice a dangerous purr. “We don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Shigaraki’s hand trailed down your waist, tugging you off his lap with rough impatience as he rose to his feet. His fingers never left your body, keeping you tethered to him like a prize he’d already claimed.

Your heart pounded in your chest as they guided you toward the club’s shadowed back exit, Dabi’s molten gaze burning into your back while Shigaraki’s hand stayed possessively firm around your waist. 

There was no escape.

And the most terrifying truth was that, deep down, a part of you didn’t want to escape at all.

Your body trembled as you were bent over the edge of the bed, completely naked — exposed and pliant, just the way they liked.

The sheets bunched beneath your hands as you braced yourself, trying to focus — trying to breathe — but it was impossible with Dabi lounging lazily in front of you.

His scarred back pressed into the mattress, one arm propped behind his head as he gazed at you through half-lidded eyes, utterly at ease. His cock, flushed and hard, rested against his stomach as he watched you.

“Come on, don’t get shy now,” Dabi murmured, his gravelly voice a mixture of teasing and condescension. His thumb traced your bottom lip briefly before guiding himself into the warm heat of your mouth. 

Your tongue welcomed him, slick and obedient, and he groaned lowly, his hips rocking just enough to force you to take him deeper.

Touya hissed through his teeth, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head. “That’s it. Good girl.”

The sound of his pleasure reverberated through you, but your focus shattered when a new sensation made itself known — a hot, slick pressure against your folds. Your thighs twitched as the sensation grew bolder — tracing the curve of your pussy lips before pushing past them.

A muffled whine vibrated around Dabi’s length, and you instinctively arched. With a sharp pop, you pulled off Dabi’s cock, saliva trailing from the corner of your mouth as you gasped for air and moaned shamelessly. Your voice wavered with desperation as you glanced over your shoulder.

There he was — Shigaraki, kneeling between your spread legs, his crimson gaze half-lidded and focused solely on you. “Stop fucking squirming,” he rasped impatiently, giving your cheek a hard spank, his voice raw and hungry. His calloused fingers spread your ass cheeks wide, holding you open for his eager mouth. The drag of his tongue from your soaked entrance to your clit sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, and your knee buckled.

Your mouth formed a large “O”, and a tear threatened to roll down your cheek.

“Tsk. Pathetic,” Dabi scoffed from in front of you. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before he delivered a stinging slap to your cheek. Your head snapped back, and your wide, tear-glazed eyes met his.

“There we go,” he smirked, clearly pleased to have your full attention again. Slowly, almost deliberately, Dabi ran his hand over his throbbing cock, his skin glistening with the remnants of your spit. He stroked himself lazily, letting you watch every movement, every twitch of his muscles. “I didn’t say you could stop, doll.”

He tapped the head of his cock against your lips, and of course you accepted him in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, up and down, gently flexing your tongue to tease the massive vein located underneath his cock. A tear finally escaped your eye.

Dabi clicked his tongue, his hand tangling into your hair before giving a sharp tug that forced you off him with an audible pop. Your lips parted, spit trailing down and on his thigh as you looked up at him, dazed and desperate. “You’re pathetic, you know that, whore?” he taunted, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, teasing himself while spreading your saliva all over his shaft. “Can’t even handle both of us, huh?”

“I am… Not a whore,” you reminded him, slowly opening your mouth to moan loudly as Tomura spanked your ass a few more times.

Behind you, Shigaraki groaned impatiently. “Stop hogging her attention,” he rasped, his voice rough with want. Without waiting, he buried his face between your legs again, his tongue flicking messily over your swollen clit before dragging back down to your slick entrance.

“Shit— Tomura…” you gasped, your back arching instinctively as you ground your pussy against his face. “Just like that.”

“Focus,” Dabi growled from above, snapping his fingers to reclaim your gaze. 

Your eyes darted back to him, your face still flushed and your lips glistening.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, that sadistic little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You nodded and wrapped your lips around his shaft again. You pushed your mouth down his shaft until you felt his white, pubic hair that surrounded his cock tickle your nose. While you were sucking Dabi's cock, doing your best to make him satisfied with your efforts, your hand instinctively drifted down between your trembling thighs, fingers seeking relief. Just as you brushed against your slick folds, a rough, calloused hand snatched your wrist, shoving it away.

“Don’t,” Shigaraki growled, his voice a low, dangerous rasp that sent a shiver up your spine.

Before you could protest, his hands gripped your hips, spreading your ass cheeks apart until your pussy was exposed, open, and vulnerable to him. You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on you.

Shigaraki’s tongue teased the sensitive edges of your entrance slowly, circling in a way that made your thighs tremble. Then, without warning, he pushed in, his tongue slipping into your tight hole, wet and insistent.

The sensation sent white-hot pleasure through you, a sharp, helpless moan tearing from your throat as you arched beneath his touch. Spit spilled from corners of your mouth, dripping on Touya’s thighs.

Dabi’s cock twitched against your tongue at the sight, his grip tightening in your hair. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough with amusement. “You really are a mess, aren’t you?”

Behind you, Shigaraki decided to shove your thigh up, pressing your knee onto the edge of the bed to grant himself full, unhindered access. His mouth returned to your pussy, more frantic this time — his tongue working in desperate, messy licks as if he were starved for the taste of you. 

Between Dabi’s demanding gaze and his cock successfully suffocating you, and Shigaraki’s relentless tongue attacking you from behind, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped your lips.

“That’s more like it,” Dabi praised mockingly, his smile turning cruel as he watched you unravel. 

Shigaraki let out a low, pleased hum, his face buried between your thighs yet again. “She’s close,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his nails digging lightly into your flesh as he kept you exactly where he wanted you while he fucked you with his long, skilled tongue.

“Better not pass out yet,” Dabi added, his voice a wicked purr as he delivered a few hard slaps to your face. “We’re just getting started.”

You pulled off Dabi’s cock with a gasp, your chest heaving as you desperately sucked in air between moans. Your lips were swollen, glistening with spit.

Dabi growled low in his throat, a dangerous sound that made your core tighten. His scarred hand curled around the base of his cock, dragging the flushed, leaking head down the side of your face, smearing it across your heated skin before settling it against your parted lips.

“Don’t get lazy on me now,” he warned, voice gravelly with irritation.

Your tongue darted out instinctively, flicking teasingly over his tip as he groaned softly in response. You played with him, swirling your tongue around the angry red head before slowly wrapping your lips around him again. You moaned, your eyelids fluttering in bliss. Inch by inch, you pushed him deeper into your mouth, sucking greedily until you took as much as you could manage, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, making you gag each time.

Your lips stretched tight around his veiny girth, and you began moving in earnest, bobbing your head forward and back, each bounce deliberate and needy. One of your hands reached to cup and fondle his balls gently, coaxing soft curses from his lips, while the other steadied yourself on his shredded thigh. 

Dabi hissed between gritted teeth, his cock twitching angrily in your mouth, pulsing in warning as he grew closer to his release.

Then Shigaraki joined in.

You gasped softly when you felt his fingers slide into your slick pussy from behind, curling just right as they pressed against your walls. He didn’t stop there, though — his mouth returned to you, tongue swirling over your folds in tandem with his digits. Your knees nearly buckled from the dual sensations, but you didn’t falter.

If anything, you grew more relentless.

You let your spit spill messily. Your hair was tangled, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears as you worked him harder, sucking him down greedily. You didn’t care how fucked out you looked. It didn’t matter after all.

“Fuck—” Dabi hissed, his voice shaky now, his composure cracking. His hand fisted into your hair, tugging hard enough to make your scalp sting. He bucked his hips into your mouth with wild desperation, chasing his release. “That’s it, you little slut,” he grunted through clenched teeth, his voice rough and broken. With one final thrust, he pressed your face flush against his pubic bone, holding you there as he came. His cock twitched violently, spilling hot, thick ropes of cum down your throat in short, jerky spurts.

You moaned around him, the vibrations sending another shiver through his overstimulated body as he groaned loudly, rolling his head back against the pillow. His grip on your hair loosened just slightly, and when you pulled back, your mouth was still full of his seed.

Dabi cracked open one eye, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked down at you. “Don’t swallow yet,” he ordered, his voice strained but firm.

You stared up at him, cheeks puffed slightly and tongue cradling his release as you awaited his next command, your body trembling while Shigaraki’s relentless ministrations continued behind you. You could only whine in a strange voice as you didn’t want to spill a single drop of Dabi’s cum.

Shigaraki's tongue and fingers worked you over relentlessly, a maddening rhythm of teasing and torment. He slipped two fingers inside you with an ease that made you shiver, his knuckles pressing against your entrance as he angled his head just right. His tongue flicked purposefully over the swollen bundle of nerves, the sensation sharp and consuming.

Your thighs trembled again, threatening to buckle, but Shigaraki’s grip held you firm, forcing you to take it all.

“Open up.”

Dabi’s voice cut through the haze, a low, commanding drawl that demanded your focus. Propped casually on his elbow where he lay, he watched you with narrowed, calculating eyes.

You obeyed without hesitation, your lips parting, tongue sticking out just enough to display the evidence of your submission — his seed still cradled there.

A faint hum of satisfaction vibrated from Dabi’s throat. “Look at you,” he murmured, his scarred hand reaching out to stroke your cheek in a gesture that was far too gentle given the situation. The warmth of his palm lingered as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head upward with effortless control.

“Been such a good girl for us,” he praised, his tone soft but tinged with that edge of condescension that made your stomach tighten. He pushed himself up onto his knees, his presence now towering over you as he gazed down at your wrecked expression. The grin that stretched across his face was wild and possessive, a cruel glint in his pale eyes as he leaned in closer. “Open wide,” he mused, and you could do nothing but obey, your mouth parting further at his demand.

Dabi held your gaze as he spat, the slow descent of a globe of his saliva deliberate. It landed messily on your upper lip, the warmth of it pooling before sliding down into your waiting mouth, mingling with his cum and your own lingering spit. Your breath hitched as you felt your pride stripped away.

“Now, you can swallow,” he ordered softly, his voice dripping with twisted satisfaction.

You did, your throat working as you obeyed, your gaze never leaving his. The desperation in your eyes only seemed to amuse him more, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw in reward as you blinked up at him.

It was then that Shigaraki’s fingers curled inside you, finding that perfect spongy spot deep within. Your body tensed, a loud, broken whine escaping your lips as your walls spasmed around his digits, your release crashing over you in uncontrollable waves. Shigaraki’s tongue stayed firm against your clit, drawing out every last tremor as you came apart.

You couldn’t stop the shy, breathy whimper that left you as your body sagged slightly, your face flushed in embarrassment.

Shigaraki pulled back just enough to growl lowly against you, the vibration sending another spark of sensitivity through your core as you cleaned your folds from remnants of your release. “Good girl,” the man praised, his voice rough and husky with satisfaction.

Dabi chuckled darkly from above you, thumb tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze again. “Don’t get all shy on us now,” he teased, his smile sharp and devilish. “You’re doing so well.”

Shigaraki’s gloved hand — slick with your cum — wrapped firmly around your chin, tilting your head up until you were forced to meet his eyes. His crimson eyes burned into yours before he leaned in, claiming your mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. He groaned as his tongue pushed past your lips, eager, desperate to taste the remnants of Dabi’s cum still coating your tongue.

The moment his mouth met yours, your quirk activated instinctively. A faint aura bloomed around you, light and humming with energy, sending a ripple of warmth through the air. 

Shigaraki growled deep in his throat, his entire body tensing as the surge hit him, spreading like wildfire through his cells. The sound was guttural, animalistic, as if he’d been jolted alive. “Fuck—” he hissed, his lips leaving yours briefly as he shivered from the rush.

“Tsk,” Dabi chuckled, the sound low and smug as he took advantage of Shigaraki’s distraction. Dabi’s scarred hand wrapped around Tomura’s cock. His hand pumped slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb brushing against the sensitive head just to coax a sharp gasp from his boyfriend’s lips. “Relax, hothead. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Your lips were abandoned as Shigaraki’s focus faltered completely, his attention turning to Dabi with a heated glare. “Ugly bastard,” Tomura rasped, though the way his hips bucked into Dabi’s hand betrayed just how easily he was unraveling.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dabi murmured smugly, his voice a soft purr. With a rough tug and a smirk, he pulled Shigaraki into a kiss that left you breathless just from watching. Their lips met in a clash of teeth and tongues, Dabi’s dominance clear as he guided Shigaraki back onto the bed with ease. Tomura didn’t resist; he let Dabi push him down, his white hair splayed like a halo on the sheets.

Dabi settled between Tomura’s thighs, his sharp grin softening into something dangerously wicked as he ducked his head. Without preamble, his mouth wrapped around Shigaraki’s cock, and Tomura let out a broken groan, his back arching off the bed.

“Fucking hell, Touya…” Tomura rasped, one hand flying to Dabi’s white hair, gripping tight.

You were left kneeling at the edge, forgotten, stripped of their attention. A needy whine escaped you before you could stop it, the ache between your legs too much to ignore. Frustration flared hot in your chest, but you couldn’t look away from the sight in front of you — Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains, wrecked and trembling under Todoroki’s mouth, and Dabi himself, so smug and methodical as he sucked his boyfriend off.

“Assholes,” you muttered under your breath, though your voice lacked any real venom. Giving in, your hand drifted down between your thighs, your fingers brushing over your slick folds. A sharp inhale left you as you began to rub lazy, teasing circles against your clit, your gaze fixed on them as if the sight alone might bring you release.

There was something maddeningly hot about the way Dabi could so easily dominate Shigaraki — about how quickly the sharp edges of the most powerful man softened under Touya’s touch.

How the hell had it come to this? You barely remembered. The whiskey at the club burned as it came back to you, their teasing words, the way Dabi and Shiggy had leaned close to murmur threats into your ear if you didn’t follow them. A shiver ran through you at the memory, though whether it was fear or excitement, you couldn’t tell.

What you did know was that this — this night, this wild chaos — was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was raw and humiliating, your body used and claimed by two men who couldn’t care less about your dignity. And yet, you were dripping for them, your fingers already working faster as you squirmed on the bed, watching the two men you couldn’t get enough of.

Your body quivered, breath ragged as you bit your lip, already desperate for more. One thing was certain: you didn’t care how you ended up here. All you could think about was how much you wanted them inside you — both of them — until you forgot your own name.

And judging by the way Dabi’s eyes flicked toward you, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face as he pulled off Shigaraki’s cock with a sinful pop, they weren’t done with you yet. “Look at her,” Dabi drawled, voice thick with amusement as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Couldn’t handle being left alone for five minutes. Such a needy little shit.”

Shigaraki’s head lolled to the side, his crimson eyes barely focused but sharp enough to catch the way your fingers moved between your thighs. “So fucking needy.”

Dabi grinned and pushed Shiggy’s cock past his lips again. Dabi worked Shigaraki’s cock with an eager, unrelenting rhythm, his mouth gliding along the length in sloppy, wet strokes that filled the room with the most obscene, filthy sounds you’d ever heard. His lips stretched wide, dragging over every vein, his tongue teasing mercilessly as he sucked in earnest, loud and unapologetic, his turquoise eyes never left Shigaraki’s face.

With a sharp pop, Dabi pulled off, a strand of saliva connecting his lips to Shigaraki’s throbbing shaft. He tilted his head, eyes glinting, before he tilted his mouth horizontally, wrapping his lips along the sensitive side of Shigaraki’s cock. His movements turned fast — up and down, slicking him completely with spit that glistened in the dim light of the room.

“Fuck—” Shigaraki hissed, his voice cracking with the effort to keep his composure, but Dabi wasn’t done. He slid further down, taking one of Shigaraki’s balls into his mouth, sucking and rolling it against his tongue, his hands working the rest of his boyfriend’s shaft in time with his mouth.

The control didn’t last long. Shigaraki’s breaths turned ragged, his hips twitching with the need to chase release, and within seconds, he snapped — his cock jerking in Dabi’s hand as he came, hard and sudden.

Thick ropes of cum spurted forward, hitting Dabi’s face in messy streaks. 

Shigaraki groaned through gritted teeth, his body trembling as the last of his release spattered across Dabi’s scarred chin and nose.

Touya sat back slowly, his expression smug as he swiped his tongue across his lip, unbothered by the mess dripping down his face. “Didn’t think you’d lose it that fast, Shig,” he mused, his tone laced with a teasing drawl. “Guess I’m just that good, huh?”

Shigaraki’s red eyes burned into him, his breath still heavy as he scowled faintly. “Shut up, Todoroki.”

Dabi just grinned, licking his fingers clean as he savored every last drop of Tomura’s cum. “Whatever you say, boss.”

It was when their attention returned to you.

“You should fuck her,” Touya pointed out, glaring at Shigaraki, his tone lazy yet deliberate, as if offering the most obvious suggestion in the world. “Look at her — she’s trembling. Can’t fucking wait to have her needy little cunt stuffed full of your dick.”

Shigaraki shivered at the words, his red eyes darkening as he raked his gaze over you. A shudder ran through his body, his voice a breathless rasp as he muttered, “I’m overstimulated. You go first. It’ll be even better when I take her after you’ve filled her needy cunt with your hot cum.”

The way they spoke about you, as if you weren’t even there — like you were some object to pass between them — made your stomach twist and a shiver race down your spine. You clenched your thighs instinctively, but the heat pooling low in your belly was unstoppable.

Dabi, lying back next to Shigaraki on the bed, gestured lazily with two fingers. “C’mere, whore. Straddle me.”

“I’m not a whore,” you reminded him once again with a frown crossing your forehead. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Todoroki growled back.

The command was all you needed, your body moving instinctively to obey. You climbed over him, settling your knees on either side of his hips, your trembling hands already reaching for his cock. He was rock hard again, pulsing and ready for you, and you dragged him along your slit, teasing both yourself and him as the head of his cock glided through your slick folds.

Dabi’s patience, however, was notoriously thin. His large hands suddenly gripped your waist, and before you could react, he pushed you down onto him with one firm thrust.

You cried out as he impaled you, the stretch of his cock filling you completely and stealing the air from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet and tight,” Touya growled, his voice low and guttural as his fingers dug into your flesh. His hips shifted slightly, grinding into you to pull another broken moan from your lips. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”

Above him, you clung to his chest, nails scraping lightly over the healthy patches of skin as your body adjusted to the sudden fullness. 

Dabi didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath though; his hips rolled beneath you with slow, intentional force, and the pressure made your head spin.

“Don’t stop,” Shigaraki muttered, his voice strained as he watched you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Keep going. I want to see her fall apart on you before I take my turn.” The man of course was jerking himself.

Dabi’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes gleaming with that signature cruelty as he tilted his head to look up at you. “Hear that, doll? You’d better give us a good show.”

His hips snapped up suddenly, and you cried out again, the room filling with the sound of skin meeting skin and the broken moans spilling uncontrollably from your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back toward the ceiling as Touya’s hands worked over you, rough and greedy. His scarred fingers pinched and kneaded your breasts, each tug on your sensitive nipples sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His heated gaze stayed fixed on you — on the slow, mesmerizing roll of your hips as you started grinding your pelvis against him, dragging your slick pussy over the massive length of his cock.

“Fuck, just like that,” Touya praised, his voice gravelly and strained, though he made no move to stop you. His cock pressed against your entrance, teasing you, every shift of your hips making him twitch and pulse in response. 

A pure bliss overtook your features.

When you placed your hands flat on his scarred chest, steadying yourself, he let you take control, his pale cerulean eyes narrowing with dark satisfaction. 

You began to move faster — hips gliding forward and back, dragging his thick cock up through your folds, almost slipping it out before grinding back down to bury him deep inside you. The friction burned deliciously, and the sound of his low groans only spurred you on.

Opening your eyes, you locked gazes with him as you picked up the pace, your movements sharp and purposeful. Without breaking a sweat, you rode him hard — bouncing on his cock with quick, fluid movements that had him pressing deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you over and over again. The mattress beneath you creaked in protest.

Touya’s lips curled into a wicked grin, clearly pleased with your display, but he was never one to let you feel too triumphant. With a sudden shift, he reached up and wrapped one large, scarred hand around your throat. His grip was firm — tight enough to steal a fraction of your air, to make you lightheaded and needy as his rough thumb pressed against your pulse point. “Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, voice low and dark, his eyes drinking in every reaction you gave him. 

Your whine came out broken and pitiful, a sound that only spurred you to ride him faster, harder, your body slamming down onto his cock with a desperation that left you trembling. You knew you had to work hard to be able to breathe again.

Before you could think, another touch joined the chaos. From the side, Shigaraki’s pale fingers pressed roughly against your clit. He rubbed in firm, purposeful circles, coaxing you closer to the edge before landing a few sharp slaps to your sensitive, swollen bud.

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki muttered, his voice gruff and mocking. He trailed his fingers lower, gathering the juices that had spilled out of you, smirking as he scooped up some of it. With a satisfied hum, he sat back slightly, spreading the slick over his cock with slow, intended movements. His hand glided easily along the long length of his shaft now, each stroke lazy as he watched you. “Make him cum in your cunt finally.”

Dabi’s grip on your throat finally loosened, though the sight of you gasping for air, eyes glazed and lips parted, was enough to make his cock twitch. As much as he loved watching you struggle, he didn’t want to break his favorite toy.

“Fuck, you’re a mess,” he uttered, a dark smirk curling his lips as one scarred hand slid up to cradle your cheek. His other arm snaked around your lower back, locking you against him with ease. Before you could catch your breath, he drove his hips up sharply, forcing you to cry out as his thick cock filled your aching pussy to the brim. “Feel that?” Dabi taunted, his voice low and teasing as he set a ruthless rhythm. 

Your body rocked with each brutal thrust, the sound of his balls slapping against you echoing obscenely through the room. “Tight, little thing can barely take me.”

Your mouth fell open reflexively, head lolling back as the relentless pace had you seeing stars. 

Dabi’s grip on you tightened as his thrusts grew sharper, harder, forcing you to take every inch of him. Sweat began to bead along both your bodies, the heat of it all adding to the haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

Then he shifted, pulling you down until your chest met his, your chin resting over his scarred shoulder. Both of his arms caged you in, holding you flush to him as his hips began pounding up at an impossible speed. 

Your breath came out in ragged pants directly into his ear, your whines growing louder, more desperate. “Ahh— Touya… I’m gonna—” you whimpered, voice trembling as your entire body started to quake. “I’m gonna—”

“Cum,” he growled into your ear, his teeth nibbling on your earlobe as his hips snapped upward mercilessly.

With a sharp gasp, you came undone, a broken moan ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched down around him, milking his cock with every pulse of your release. You lolled your head back to lower it and rest your forehead against the crook of his neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god, yes!” You cried, the words dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan as waves of pleasure crashed over your being.

Dabi hissed through his teeth, sweat dripping down his temple as he fucked you through your orgasm, refusing to let go. The slick, obscene sounds of skin meeting skin grew louder, wetter, as he chased his high.

And then it happened — your body, overstimulated and writhing, couldn’t hold back anymore. You screamed his name as you squirted, a torrent of juices splashing over Dabi’s abs and thighs.

“Fuck! Look at you,” Dabi chuckled darkly, his voice strained as he watched you, his teeth clenched hard. He delivered a sharp slap to your cheek, the sting sending a jolt through your already-sensitive body. “Dirty little whore. Look what you’ve done.”

With a final, deep thrust, his cock twitched violently inside you, and he let out a guttural groan as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled into your soaked pussy, the sensation making you shudder, trembling from head to toe as you wrapped your arm around his neck, hugging him as tightly as you could.

For a moment, you waited for him to push you off — but he didn’t. 

Instead, Dabi’s arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you closer as he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple. “You did oh so well, doll.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Shigaraki’s gravelly voice broke the moment. “My turn.”

Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up, Dabi’s hands steadying you as you moved. His release, mixed with yours, dripped shamelessly down your inner thighs and onto the sheets, staining them in messy evidence of your debauchery.

“On all fours,” Shigaraki ordered coldly.

Your body obeyed instinctively, trembling slightly as you got into position. Shigaraki knelt behind you, his pale hands spreading the cheeks of your ass as his crimson eyes drank in the view of your pussy entrance clenching around nothing, missing the contact. With a low curse, he spat directly onto the valley between your cheeks, watching the saliva trail down over your puckered hole and toward your slick, used entrance.

“Stay still,” Tomura warned, the tip of his cock sliding through the mess he’d created. He dragged it deliberately, spreading the wetness across both openings before aligning himself. Without another word, he pushed in, forcing his length into your soaked cunt in one slow, steady stroke. “Fuck! So warm,” he applauded, his voice heavy with hunger as he sank his cock to the hilt. “And still so fucking tight. C’mere,” Shigaraki called, turning his head to Dabi, who was still sprawled beside you, watching the scene with an air of smug satisfaction. 

Touya didn’t hesitate, moving closer as Shigaraki grabbed his jaw roughly and tilted his head, pulling the scarred man into a messy, sloppy kiss.

Dabi growled against Tomura’s mouth but let him take control. 

Their tongues clashed, heated and unrestrained, while Shigaraki’s hips slammed into you from behind. The combined sound of their heavy breathing, and the wet slap of Shigaraki’s thrusts filled the room entirely.

Your body rocked forward under Shigaraki’s relentless pace. You sneaked a hand between your trembling thighs to rub your clitoris and move your fingers further to spread your entrance more. The feeling was deliciously good, and you moaned like a whore when your pussy clenched fitfully.

“Shit,” Shigaraki rasped, breaking the kiss long enough to groan, “you’re gonna squeeze me dry if you keep that up.” Tomura’s gloved hand tangled into your hair, tugging harshly and smashing your head down onto the mattress. The movement was rough, his grip unyielding as he bent you forward to angle himself deeper inside you. 

A strangled gasp left your lips, your body arching instinctively as he adjusted his stance, burying his cock to the hilt with a single thrust.

Smack.

The sound echoed through the room as his palm connected with the curve of your ass, the sharp sting blooming into warmth almost instantly. “Stay still,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and low. Red prints of his hands marked your skin, glowing against your plushy flesh.

You cried out, fists clenching tightly into the sheets as Tomura gripped your waist, holding you in place. His thrusts grew brutal and relentless, hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that bordered on feral. Each movement dragged him against every ridge of your walls, your pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock, the friction overwhelming.

Tomura’s gaze dropped to where your ass pressed back against him, mesmerized by the way your body swallowed him whole. The tremors that coursed through you only spurred him on, his cock throbbing as he leaned forward. His mouth found your neck, trailing hot, sloppy kisses between your shoulder blades and up behind your ear. 

His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, and within moments, you felt the twitch of his cock inside you. Tomura groaned, pulling out abruptly, the tip of his length gleaming and oozing precum. “Suck,” Shigaraki ordered, voice sharp but breathless as he looked at Dabi.

Touya — who’d been lounging with that ever-present, pervert smirk — sat up at the command, eyes flicking to you before sliding to Tomura’s dick. Without protest, Dabi knelt and leaned forward, wrapping his lips around Tomura’s leaking cock with deliberate ease. 

Tomura’s head fell back briefly, a hiss escaping his lips.

While Dabi worked his boyfriend, his hand snaked between your legs, two long fingers sinking into your soaked cunt. His digits thrust into you with a lazy, calculated pace at first, the slick sound of your arousal driving him wild. The movement of his hand sent splashes of your wetness dripping onto the sheets below, a testament to just how far gone you were.

It didn’t take long for Tomura to lose patience. His hand shot to Dabi’s hair, yanking him off his cock with a wet pop. “Enough,” the leader growled, before guiding himself back into you with a single, unforgiving thrust. The force knocked the breath from your lungs as he picked up a wild, punishing pace.

Your body trembled beneath him, overstimulated and unable to do anything but take what he gave you. 

Tomura’s nails dug into your hips, his low moans mingling with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. His pace faltered as his cock twitched, his release barreling toward him. “Fuck—” Shigaraki snarled, thrusting into you one last time, as deep as he could go. His body shuddered violently as he came, spilling himself inside you in thick, hot pulses. He stayed there for a moment, grinding his hips to push every drop deeper in your pussy before finally collapsing against you, his breaths heavy and ragged.

You slumped onto the mattress, your limbs weak and spent, but Tomura wasn’t done admiring his work. He withdrew slowly, watching intently as his cum — white, and thick — began to trickle from your overstimulated, reddened cunt. The sight alone made him groan softly, his fingers spreading you apart to see the mess he’d left behind. He licked his lips; the thought of his cum being so easily mixed with your and Dabi’s releases drove him crazy. “Looks good on you,” Shigaraki chuckled, dark and satisfied.

You didn’t have the strength to answer, so you moaned quietly.

“Do you think about the same thing I do?” Dabi asked Tomura, his voice low and deliberate as his scarred hand kneaded the soft flesh of your ass, fingers sinking into it with casual possessiveness.

Shigaraki, kneeling behind you, dragged his palm lazily up and down the length of his cock, thumb teasing over the tip. He licked his chapped lips, hesitant. “Yeah, but… I’m not sure if she’s loosened up enough.” His voice wavered faintly, rough and uncertain. “I don’t wanna hurt her.”

“Tsk.” Dabi clicked his tongue in irritation, his free hand coming down hard on your ass with a sharp slap that made you yelp and jolt forward. The sting and print of his unnaturally warm hand bloomed across your skin. “She’s unbreakable. Ain’t that right, Amoria?” he added, using the name of your quirk as a pet name.

Your body perked up at the sound of his voice, though you turned your head to glance over your shoulder at him with a tired but questioning look. “Mhm?”

Dabi’s grin widened, a wicked gleam in his pale turquoise eyes. “We wanna try something new. Something your beloved ex probably wouldn’t have let you do. You up for it?”

Even through the haze of exhaustion, you found yourself nodding eagerly, curiosity outweighing fatigue as you slowly sat up. “Sure. What is it?”

Dabi scoffed, shooting Shigaraki a smug look. “Told ya,” he noted before his gaze fell back to you, his voice softening slightly. “Have you ever had your cunt stuffed with two cocks at the same time?”

Your eyes widened, the question hitting you like a bolt of electricity. You shook your head slowly.

“Wanna try it?” He phrased it like a challenge.

You rubbed your palms against your knees after sitting on them, glancing between the two men before smiling faintly. “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, I guess…”

“That’s the attitude,” Dabi murmured, his grin stretching wider.

Without another word, Dabi lay back against the bed, dragging you with him until you were straddling his hips again. His cock — thick, hard, and begging to be stuffed in your warm cunt yet again — throbbed against your swollen slit, which still ached from earlier. He grabbed your waist, guiding you down onto him with little patience, groaning as he sank back into your warmth. “Fuck…” Dabi hissed, his head pressing into the pillow as he felt how easily you took him again. His cock slid inside your stretched-out entrance, and he smirked darkly as he felt Shigaraki’s cum leaking out of your slit, flowing over his erection, slick and hot. “See that, Shigs? The slut's so fucking loose. You’re good to go.”

Shigaraki didn’t need to be told twice. He nodded curtly, shuffling closer to get into position behind you. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he adjusted himself. One of his palms slid along the curve of your ass, and he delivered a quick, stinging slap that left you whining softly.

“Relax,” Shigaraki muttered, though his own breathing had grown uneven. With a rough groan, he began pressing himself against your already stuffed cunt, his long, slender cock sliding slowly alongside Dabi’s. 

The stretch was immediate, sharp and overwhelming as your walls struggled to accommodate the added girth.

“Fuck, she’s tight now,” Shigaraki growled under his breath, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back.

“Yeah?” Dabi sneered, though his voice was breathy with his own pleasure. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his angle so you were forced to take more of him. “Told ya she could handle it. She’s tougher than she looks.”

Neither of them seemed to mind the friction where their cocks pressed together, filling you completely. In fact, it only made them more eager. 

The combined stretch sent you reeling, tears pricking your eyes as they started moving — slow at first, then building in rhythm, a perfectly matched pace that had you gasping for air.

“Shit… look at ya,” Dabi stated, his voice low and hungry as he dragged you down against his scarred chest. His long fingers tilted your chin up until your face hovered just above his. His tongue darted out, running lazily up your cheek to taste the salt of your sweat and tears. “You look fucking ruined, doll. You like this, huh?”

Your only response was a broken moan and eager nod of your head, your body trembling as you tried to hold yourself up while they worked you over. 

Behind you, Shigaraki’s nails dug into your hips, his restraint slipping with every thrust. “She’s so— Fuck!— Full,” Shigaraki rasped, his voice cracking slightly as he buried himself deeper.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dabi grunted beneath you, his smirk never fading. “You better keep up, Shigs. Can’t let me outdo you, now, can we?”

The two of them moved in perfect rhythm, their thrusts syncing to a punishing pace that left you helpless and whining in their hold. 

Dabi’s chest rumbled with laughter as he watched your face twist with pleasure, more tears spilling down your flushed cheeks, every broken sound you made only fueling him further. “Good girl,” Dabi murmured finally, his voice dark and satisfied. “Such a good, little pet.”

At that point, you were completely incapable of forming coherent words. Your mouth fell open, spilling nothing but broken moans, tiny strings of saliva, and strangled cries as they both relentlessly tore into you, their thrusts striking every sensitive, sweet spot deep within your pulsing, velvety walls. The pleasure was unbearable — overwhelming to the point that you felt yourself drifting off, your mind teetering on the edge of oblivion.

A sharp slap brought you back.

Dabi’s scarred hand cracked against your cheek, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to jolt you awake, his azure eyes narrowed. “Eyes open, doll. You’re not tapping out yet,” he growled.

Behind you, Tomura delivered another sharp smack — this time to your ass. “Don’t you dare pass out,” the leader hissed, his voice raspy as his nails dug into the soft flesh of your hips.

The two men fucked you mercilessly, their cocks stretching you to your absolute limit as they plunged into your dripping cunt, their movements fierce and unrelenting. Your entire body trembled from overstimulation, every nerve ending alive and alight, your pussy clenching uncontrollably around them. It was maddening, beyond anything you’d ever felt — pure, unadulterated bliss mixed with the sharp edge of being completely, utterly used. 

“Look at her,” Dabi murmured through gritted teeth, his smirk curling at the edges as his thrusts grew sloppier. “She’s fucking gone, Tomu. You feel that? She’s throbbing around us like she’s about to break again.”

Tomura let out a growl of agreement, his pace turning frantic as he rutted his dick into you, the slick sound of their cocks rubbing against each other within your tight, soaked walls driving him wild. “She’s perfect,” he rasped, his crimson eyes wild with lust.

You couldn’t hold back — couldn’t stop yourself as the climax built and crested like a tidal wave, ripping through your body with unforgiving force. You screamed — a raw, desperate sound — as your abused pussy spasmed violently around them, the overwhelming pleasure forcing tears to slip down your flushed cheeks.

But they didn’t stop.

Over the next several minutes, they continued to fuck into you without mercy, their movements relentless even as your body twitched and jerked in oversensitive ecstasy. Their cocks slid into your overstimulated, reddened cunt, rubbing against each other with every brutal thrust, the friction pulling deep groans and grunts from their throats.

Dabi was the first to snap.

You felt it — a sudden stretch as he buried himself to the hilt, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix in a way that had you sobbing. He cursed under his breath, his body tensing as his shaft twitched violently, pumping hot, thick spurts of cum deep inside you. The warmth bloomed within your core, unnatural and heavy, his groaned “Fuck, that’s it…” echoing in your ears.

Tomura followed moments later. He threw his head back with a ragged yell, his fingers bruising your hips as he came hard again, emptying his balls inside you in thick, pulsing waves. “Take it, take it! Take it, you filthy little cunt,” he choked out, a string of curses tumbling from his chapped lips as he pushed in as far as he could go. His release shot deep, mixing with Dabi’s until it overflowed from your ruined cunt, spilling in hot rivulets down your trembling thighs.

The sensation of being stuffed so full — of their seed mixing and dripping from your stretched, abused pussy — pushed you over the edge once again. Another orgasm tore through you, sudden and brutal, making you squirt violently around their still-hard cocks. A choked cry escaped you before your mind finally went blank.

The world dimmed at the edges, your body completely, utterly spent. As your consciousness slipped away, the last thing you registered was Dabi’s voice — low, dark, and smug — murmuring, “Looks like we broke her, Tomura.”

A soft chuckle followed before everything went black.

Tomura pulled out of you slowly, his cock slick and throbbing as he stroked himself a few more times, riding out the last shudders of his release. With a low, satisfied groan, he collapsed beside Dabi, his chest heaving as his body finally gave in to exhaustion.

Dabi shot him a sidelong glance, already sprawled comfortably on the bed like he owned it. “Move over, Shigs,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, though there was no real bite to his words. “Make some room for her.”

Tomura grumbled something under his breath but obeyed, shifting further to the side. With that, Touya carefully pushed you off his cock, his movements surprisingly gentle despite his usual rough demeanor. He shifted you between them, taking care to ease your limp body into the space they’d made. His scarred hand slipped beneath your head, lifting it just enough to place you onto one of the pillows. Dabi hovered for a moment, watching your flushed face as you drifted off, spent and serene. Your lips were parted, and you were breathing heavily, yet you looked as peaceful as if you’d merely fallen asleep after a long day.

Tomura watched the scene in silence, his red eyes narrowing with faint curiosity. It wasn’t often he saw Todoroki like this — so still, so intent. There was something rare in the way Touya looked at you, something bordering on concern. It tugged at something unfamiliar in Tomura’s chest, though he quickly brushed the feeling off. Breaking the quiet, he reached out, his gloved fingers brushing along Dabi’s scarred cheek. “You were fucking awesome,” Tomura rasped, a crooked smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Touya’s lip curled upward into a smug, familiar grin, the cockiness returning to his expression like a reflex. “Yeah? I know. So were you, Shigs,” he replied, his voice smooth with praise and self-satisfaction. “You’ve got an eye, I’ll give you that. Thought this one would be another shy little thing to fuck but turns out, we found ourselves a damn sex machine.”

Tomura chuckled darkly, resting back against the bed. “We did. And her quirk…” He trailed off, tilting his head as if replaying the events in his mind. “It’s fucking awesome. I’ve never felt so powerful in my entire life — like I could destroy anything just with a glance.”

Dabi hummed in agreement, propping himself up on his left elbow and letting his cheek rest in his palm. “Same here,” he admitted, voice softer now, though the sly smirk remained. His gaze flickered back to your sleeping form. “Pity, though, the cunt works for that old fucking bastard.”

“Not necessarily,” Tomura countered, his tone sharper, more thoughtful. His red eyes gleamed with intent as his mind turned over possibilities. “That might be one of her most valuable assets for us. We can use her — turn her into our spy. With her in our pocket, we’ll always be a step ahead of the fucking heroes. It will help us win the war.”

The suggestion hung heavy in the air. Dabi fell quiet, his grin fading as he considered Tomura’s words. His eyes lingered on you for a long moment, the weight of the choice settling over him.

Tomura tilted his head, watching his boyfriend with mild amusement. “You know I’m right,” he declared, the certainty in his voice absolute.

After a beat of silence, Touya sighed through his nose, a reluctant smirk curling back onto his lips. “Yeah, you might be onto something,” he muttered, the faintest hint of admiration coloring his tone.

“I like how you’re using the name of her quirk as a nickname,” Tomura remarked, his voice low and amused as he reached out, brushing a tangled strand of hair off your cheek with surprising gentleness.

Touya let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah,” he drawled, his lips tugging into a smug grin. “Suits her, doesn’t it?”

Between them, you slept soundly, unaware of the plotting, of their voices weaving around you like a web — one you might never escape.

@unhinged-bratty-boy @hornydynamight @alexandhisstuff @shonen-brainrot @roast-toast

@pixelcafe-network @dabislittlemouse @within-eyesight @sahhuban @jowjayjax

@pridefulbakugou @irkedpomeranian @crystalwolfblog @gojoswifesworld @commonmisery

@proherodabisballsack @bitchyfestivalbouquet @starandcloud @shionancientsblog @words-of-wonder

@fallenrosesblog @t4ters

The amazing digital art of Matt Sellers

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

Good girls should just stay home, lest something goes bump in the night.

cw: NSFW • Implied Murder • Implied Serial Killer • Consensual Non-Consent turned Non-Consensual • Noncon • Dubcon • Abuse • Fingering (F) • Oral (M) • Deep Throating • Rough Sex • Attempted Murder • Hair Pulling • Degradation/Slight Humiliation • Dacryphilia • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • a little OOC • This story possessed me and basically wrote itself • Barely proof read tbh

wc: 7k+

Something must be wrong with you.

Or at least, that’s what you imagine the world would think if anyone knew what you were doing.

The room was dark aside from the blue glow of your computer screen. The black web browser with red lettering almost ominous as your eyes scanned the consent form again. It was a consent form just to access the full website, on the surface serving only as a dating type of situation for the BDSM community. Beneath it though were layers deeper than what the simple description actually provided. You only found out about it through a deep dive into multiple sub-threads of Reddit. It was a basket case of crazy, the majority of information or advice, but you managed to dig up one reliable looking source.

This website you were currently on. L@ce&R0pe.com happened to provide a wide variety of goodies, from sex toys to actual published books on shibari, there wasn’t much you couldn’t find. Except like all websites not swallowed up by the deep web, there was never any section like the one you wanted so desperately.

Except this one, because your mouse didn’t hesitate to shift and hover over the drop down section for MEET, where you could link up with real people for whatever your heart desired really. You trailed down to NEW FRIEND, and clicked. A new tab opened, this one themed differently than the main website. It was light blue and pink, almost like a baby shower, except the only thing on the page was a single drop down menu, and clicking it made your head ache. There were thousands of options, but thankfully it was organized alphabetically, so you could easily scroll mindlessly until you hit the C section.

You found what you wanted, clicking it as your chosen option and hitting GO.

The screen changed, this time it looked similar to a dating profile fillable. You worked quickly, efficiently even, as you typed all your information in.

Not your name or address, nothing silly like that. Just your measurements, your favorite foods or beverages, the color of your eyes, your hair color, your height, and even the style of your nails. It asked if you liked to brush your hair everyday, how often you showered, what shampoo or body wash you like. You answered them all, as invasive as they soon became, you never wavered. What brand of deodorant do you use? How often do you clip or file your nails? To what length? Do you shave your pubic area? How often? What style? How many sexual partners have you had? Where have you had sex? Which hole do you prefer? Are you a crier or a screamer? Does blood turn you on? Do you like physical or mental pain more? Have you ever been raped before?

They got more personal and physiological as you answered. You felt hot and stuffy despite the window being open and the cool autumn air blowing in. You kept answering even as your throat got tighter and unease nestled into your clavicle.

Do you want to know who your new friend will be?

This time you do hesitate. Knowing would make it feel safer. Knowing would give you some semblance of control. Knowing would be the smart choice.

You clicked “no” and submitted the form, sealing your fate as your hands shook and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You set the date for October 31st. Now all you had to do was wait and show up.

A notification hit his phone, lighting up the screen as cigarette smoke billowed around him in the back alley. A quick glance was all he needed to unlock and fully see the entire screen. The leather of his jacket rubbed against the brick he leaned against.

Halloween was probably the best time for such fun, crime rates skyrocketing and parties being loud and wild really left a big gaping hole for any type of heinous activity to occur. He grinned as the information poured onto his screen. His dick already becoming painfully hard as he read all your supplied information. You liked breath play, having someone spit in your mouth, even being slapped around. He was always amazed by the lack of shortage for sick freaks like you, but then again, he was one of them too. Licking his top lip, tongue piercing flicking out to rub against his cupid’s bow, he clicked “ACCEPT” on the notification. He had all your information, the when and where, and your adorable little comment of “Please don’t degrade me.” What more could he ask for? His smile is sinister in the low light off the neon sign of the bar, casting a purplish hue on his skin as he chuckles and shoves his phone away. Flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground, he cracked his neck and knuckles before going back inside to finish his beer and round of pool with his friends.

He’ll see you on Halloween. He might even dress up a little for the occasion.

It’s cold.

It’s nearly November so you hadn’t expected warm weather necessarily, but it seemed chillier than usual despite your fairly insulated dress.

You dressed up as an angel, the irony not lost on you at all but it felt fitting almost for the occasion. The pristine white looked off in your surroundings. It was nearly midnight, but despite that the sidewalk of the park was filled with a fairly regular crowd of people passing through, on to the next party or home to sleep off all the alcohol. Really, you weren’t too out of place, in your white stockings and black heeled boots, the fluffy ruffled white babydoll dress that barely covered your ass or tits and the wings which were strapped around your shoulders and jutted out behind you. On your head was a slim clip which was attached to a white shiny halo that seemed to float above you, only a thin wire keeping it up. You’d at first felt a little exposed passing children going home for the night after trick or treating, eyes of judgemental families which you ignored boring into you, but now it was time for the adults to have fun. You’d already passed a plethora of college students or older dressed even more scantily than you, making you feel better, safer, out in the park you’d chosen. You’d chosen 0300 as your designated meetup time, but specified you’d be early in case they wanted to start sooner. So here you stood, under a streetlamp that illuminated you in a yellow glow, making you seem even more angelic despite the ominous darkness surrounding you. You were busy playing on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and trying not to appear too excited. Or scared. You figured it was a combination of both, the arousal and fear bleeding into one very specific but unnamed emotion. Tapping your boot to a rhythm only you could hear, the night drew on and another hour passed. The droves of people passing didn’t dwindle, but it was always a group, never a single individual which you hoped was your new friend. It was almost 0130 when you felt watched, goosebumps rising on your skin as you realized someone must be looking at you. A quick glance around showed no one though, and after ten minutes your hope dissolved into disappointment. It seemed your friend wasn’t an early bird.

“Hey,” a raspy, deep voice speaking almost directly into your ear, startling you enough to elicit a yelp. You turned, eyes landing on a dark clothed chest and trailing up to a hooded face you could barely make out through a mess of blue hair. His lips look a bit chapped, a small scar decorating a corner, but his teeth are white and straight as he smiles a grin that causes shivers to shoot down your spine.

…maybe your friend was an early bird, just not as much as you.

You take a step back, stuttering stupidly due to your overactive nerves and the earlier shock of his sudden appearance. “H-hi…um,” the stranger tilts his head, eyes still not visible, dark hoodie baggy on his frame. He looks a bit thin, like he wouldn’t have a lot of strength, his jeans having some strange splattering of fake blood or something on them. You lick your lips, heart ready to leap from your chest but not quite ready for the events to unfold.

Or maybe you were very ready.

“You’ve been standing here for hours,” he comments nonchalantly, hands moving to shove inside the large inner pocket on his hoodie, “Aren’t ya tired of waiting for your boyfriend?” His question is a bit confusing, and when you glance around you, it dawns that there’s no one out right now. When had the crowds dwindled to nothing? “I don’t… have a boyfriend…” you had clearly stated that online too, so he already knew the answer to your relationship status. Was he just teasing? Keeping this as realistic as possible? It made you a bit pleased. You fiddled with the ends of your cute frilly dress, exposing a small portion of your skin and garter belt which kept your thigh high socks up. His eyes tracked the motion, lips pulling up even higher making his smile menacing. Dangerous. “That so?” He asks, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a reply as he steps closer, his beat up sneakers so silent on the ground it’s a little unnerving. Since he’s playing along so much, it feels wrong for you to not reciprocate.

“What do you think you’re doing, creep? Stay back,” You hope he’s not offended by the name, figuring it wasn’t too mean or odd of a thing to call him. Your firm stance and defiant gaze make him pause, head tilting again but he’s quick to recover and laugh. It’s less of a sexy and deep chuckle like you expected, and more pitched and giggly. It’s almost creepy to hear from a grown man. Like a child from a horror movie laughing. “Creep? Yeah? Guess I am, but you know what?” His head lifts, and since he’s more centered under the tall street lamp, when he looks straight at you, two red eyes flash. “I’m a lot fucking worse than your average dumbass creep,” you jolt when he lunges at you, hand outstretched to grab you. It’s instinctive how quickly you turn and run, adrenaline helping you shoot off into the park where no light but the moon shined down. This is what you wanted, you chant to yourself to stay level headed enough to not truly panic. This was staged and as safe as possible. He’s not actually going to hurt you. You’d be fine, albeit maybe a little sore tomorrow morning. You shut your mind off and focus on running, though your speed wasn’t great in such cheap and unstable boots, roots and random objects on the ground constantly tripping you up.

You looked like the dumb girl in the horror movies, tits practically out of your low cut revealing white dress, strapless white bra damn useless and more for show than any real support or push-up. You huffed, digging in your heels when you heard a few twigs snap behind you, feet carrying you faster as you realized he was gaining on you quickly. He didn’t shout and you didn’t scream. The chase was exhilarating, your mind becoming fuzzy as your lungs burned for more oxygen. You hadn’t planned a chase, really leaving it all up to fate and your new friend, but this was perfect.

Until fingers tangled tight in your hair and yanked you completely off your feet, your shoes and legs going out in front of you as you landed gracelessly on your ass. Then an intense burning in your scalp erupts, a hiss of pain and a whine escaping as you slide over cool damp foliage, senseless grumbling coming from the stranger as he drags you into a deeper more secluded section of the park, away from any and all prying eyes. Not like anyone gave a damn. “I-it hurts!” You feel childish for crying, tears pricking your eyes but the burn was worse than you imagined truly, soft hands coming up to try and pry his fingers off.

He has a grip of iron apparently, not the least bit phased as he sighs, hauling you up and tossing you in front of him. You land weirdly on your left shoulder, a shock of pain numbing your mind as you heave for air and roll over. When you open your eyes, you’re face to face with him. His hood pulled off, shoulder length blue hair now tied back and up into a little bun while some stray pieces frame his face and forehead. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as they take him in.

He’s young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark bags hugging beneath his scarlet eyes. He’s got a beauty mark just below his lip on the right side, the scar you saw earlier on the other. He’s not hard on the eyes, cute even, but the strange air around him makes the close proximity fill you with anxiety. His eyebrows are thin and sparse, but he cocks one with a smirk. “Not gonna scream for help, crybaby?” The nickname makes you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, you blink them away quickly, shaking your head and trying to find your words again. “I—uh, do you want me to?” Wouldn't screaming just make it more likely for someone to call the police? You figured a little noise was fine, but screaming seemed counter productive.

His eyes widened a bit, confusion painting his features as he crouched down more comfortably on his haunches to get a better look at you.

He’d been watching you since you got to the park. A single party in this sort of place always sticks out like a sore thumb. You looked more ready for a porno than a costume party, from behind the view of your ass indescribably arousing in your short little dress. It was both a slutty and innocent look you pulled off well, at least enough to make him riled up, cock twitching in agreement within his pants. He shamelessly rubbed it through his jeans, caressing the hardening length and letting you watch with glee. Your face made him snort, amusement evident as he chuckles and squints. “You like this, little freak?” You looked like you did, he notes. Your wide pretty eyes, still a little teary and red at the ends, showed your blown out pupils. You looked to be more star struck, not terrified like any normal girl chased through a park and dragged into a little corner between some trees to be out of sight. He watches you swallow hard, lips parting before closing as if you aren’t sure what to say to that question. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he grins, “a cute little slut who stood out at night all alone as if begging for someone to come along and do something nasty.” You release a tiny yelp as he meanly shoves you back, straddling your upper chest with his thighs as he hunches over you, looming ominously above with wild eyes screaming for chaos. “Good thing that I came along, huh? Make all your nasty little fantasies come true.” He watches you gasp as he presses his fingers against your lips, confusion evident on your face but you aren’t really putting up much of a fight as you open and let him slide two in. “Nasty fucking girl, look at you, when you don’t even fucking know me.” He chuckles, and while he’s teasing you mostly, he is amazed. You looked erotic as hell right now, little angel costume all wrinkled and a bit dirty from the earth below, pretty face a bit stained with mascara that had run a little from your earlier tears. You weren’t wearing the waterproof kind it seemed. Lips bitten and chewed on, plump and glossy from whatever glittery shit you swiped on them earlier now wrapped around his digits as he dug around in your warm wet mouth. “Suck on them, slut,” he orders, his smile dropping and face becoming more serious as you hurry to obey, a strange trepidation building in your gut. He groans as he feels your tongue wiggle and swirl, pumping his fingers a bit now and enjoying the little bleats you release when he chokes you a bit with them. “Wonder if you’re soaked down here~” he hums, leaning back a bit and yanking his fingers from your lips, wiping the excess saliva across your cheek and huffing a laugh as your features wrinkle in distaste. His hand moves behind him, easy access to your cunt due to the frilly dress hiked up almost around your waist, revealing cute soaked white cotton panties he growls at the sight of. “You really suck at putting up a fight, crybaby, but I think I heard somewhere that girls get wet when scared too…” those red eyes flick back to your own, "You scared?” He asks, almost softly. He watches you breathe, chest struggling a bit under his weight but your hands curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not pushing him away. “A little…?” Is your shaky response, and he wonders silently if you’re an idiot or just a pervert. You might be both, because when he lets his thumb dig into where your pussy lay poorly hidden, you moan for him and spread your legs wider. You make it even easier to search for his desired location, your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-oh—!” Your head falls back, little halo becoming a bit misshapen as it gets flattened to the ground, he tsks, fixing it with his free hand as he thumbs your little clit and watches you mewl and writhe beneath him, pleasure clearly visible on your face. Your hips buck and wiggle, body pinned beneath his and unable to get away or closer like you desperately want for more friction than he’s providing. “P-please,” you can’t help but beg, hoping your new friend is merciful enough to make you cum and not simply edge you all night.

It’s the pouty expression which makes him nearly feral, his grin spreading wide again as he keeps working his finger on your clit but his face closes the distance between your own. His lips just barely graze yours, and you are all too happy to part your lips and give him a sloppy kiss back, his own tongue finally slipping into your mouth where you suck. The smooth muscle in your mouth and the saliva dripping from it drive you wild, hands now dragging him closer and trying to make him do more for you. The heat spreads slowly however, his pace not changing, and despite his slim build he’s much stronger than you. You aren’t able to take any more than what is given, huffing in exasperation and groaning when he places more force before easing off. “S-stop teasing…” you whine against his lips, which were much softer than they look. He smirks, airy chuckle felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh, “how can I not, you’re such a rare find, I plan to take my time with you.” He kisses you hard to silence whatever whines you planned to release to make him give you more. Instead he forces you into a slow building orgasm that leaves him having to pin your wrists above your head lest your clawing rip his skin open. He works you gently and cruelly into it, loving how you gasp and choke for him, eyes rolling back while you shake almost like you’re possessed and soak through your panties. “There you go, heh, normally I wouldn’t bother to take my time with whiny bitches, but you’re more obedient and sweet than I first assumed.” He whispers into your ear as you come down from the mind blowing high, body limp and pliant like dough now. The insult from him brings out a little whine of protest, teary eyes looking at him with almost something akin to betrayal.

“I-I don’t like being called mean names…I said so online too,” he pulls up finally, the chill of the night attacking full force on your now exposed cunt as he brings your panties up to his nose to inhale. His eyes narrow, almost into slits as he pulls them back and shoves them into his hoodie pocket. “Oh yeah? You post that shit on your social media or something? Sorry, I don’t really use those trash platforms. I have a Twitch stream though,” he acts like this is the time for a regular conversation, even as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, yanking them down his hips to pull his cock free. Your eyes go wide, mind a bit blank and missing something, in favor of looking at him pump his length lazily. A trail of blue curls like on his head travel from his navel to his groin where it spreads out a little, the color a bit darker as it goes lower. He’s not one to shave it seems, but your eyes focus on his cock, average in length but girthy with a tip that curves up almost perfectly. It looks like a cock someone would sell as a dildo at a sex store. It was pretty, admittedly, as a few pearls of pre-cum dotted the tip and spilled over as he slowly worked it above you. “Hungry?” He jokes, but when you nod he grits his teeth and bites back a moan, the night truly more unexpected than he thought. “Open up then, crybaby.” He thankfully didn’t call you a bitch again, crybaby the less of the evils and more acceptable of a petname for your preference as you open your lips and awkwardly lean your head forward. “No need to lean up,” he mumbles, shifting until his knees now rested by your shoulders, tip just in your mouth and his forearms on the earth above your head. He’s looking down at you, and you lay back down as he works his cock in your mouth. He’s going to fuck your mouth, you realize a bit late, the position so easy for him to hit balls deep in your throat and prevent you from running just from his weight alone. You’re pinned to earth, the scent of crisp autumn becoming mingled with the musky masculine odor the stranger had clinging to him. Something smelled of iron too, but it was fainter and didn’t bother you too much, not when he seemed determined to suffocate you with his cock. You jerk a little, teeth accidentally grazing his cock and his hiss of pain alerts you that you’ve hurt him. He pulls up and out of your mouth, glaring ferociously as he looks down at you with contemplation. “Sorry—! I’m not used—,” the words leaving you mouth go unfinished as you’re suddenly looking away and down, confusion wracking your mind before white hot pain erupts across your face and you cry out in agony.

He watches with a cool nonchalance as you whimper and cry, holding your inflamed cheek and looking at him with teary eyes filled with questions. The sight doesn’t help his hardness, your face swelling a bit from the force of the blow already, but it was still arousing how you cried for him so easily. “Don’t bite my fucking dick and I won’t hit you, clear?” He’s grabbing you roughly by the hair again, yanking you up and no longer in the mood for that awkward position as he stands and pulls you to your knees. This position at least gives him a good eye full of your tits, shaking from your little trembling as you’re made to look up at him. His angry reddened cock next to your injured cheek is a sight for him, his hand gripping his shaft and slapping you lightly on the cheek with it, his hand in your hair preventing you from turning away even as you whimper in pain. “Okay, we’ll try this again, crybaby. Open.” You do, even as tears run like waterfalls down your face, mascara smeared and making a pathetic sight for sore eyes of you, you let his cock enter your mouth once more.

Because you’ve never been more aroused.

Your stranger isn’t nice, pushing hard and deep into your throat immediately and gagging you. You’re careful with your teeth, jaw already burning and aching as he locks his arm and hand, strands of hair tearing out as he works his hips into your face at an uneven pace. “Stop fucking moving,” he growls, stepping even closer, blocking any and all exits and forcing you to take it. His cock didn’t seem so scary when he’d pulled it out, but in your throat it was a plug to your oxygen and felt too big for your poor mouth. It hurt, feeling him go too deep and leaving you coughing and sputtering and even still he wouldn’t pull out, groaning and pressing impossibly deep like he truly means to suffocate you. “You got a good little mouth pussy, crybaby. Fuck—take my cock, just like that.” He moans, watching as you struggle on his dick to breathe or swallow, slobber and tears coating his cock as he makes a mess of your pretty face. He doesn’t care that your eyes are starting to roll back, hands which had previously been clawing at his legs going limp at your sides. You acted more like a hole for him to fuck when you were limp like this, and it drove him wild as he grunted like an animal and rutted into your mouth like he held a grudge against you. Both hands dug into your hair, hands pulling you back onto his cock when his hips bucked you away. “Never fucked a—holy shit—ah, mouth so damn good before—, ah fuck, fuck,” he’s getting breathier as time ticks by, his own eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight. “I’m going to cum, ready for me crybaby? Want it in your tummy or on your face?” He’s being condescending on purpose, but it’s a bit useless considering he’s rendered you nearly unconscious on his dick. He shrugs your lack of response off, pumping his cock down your throat until he sees stars and yanks himself free just before the first spurt misses and hits the grass below, he grips the base, pumping and shooting his next shot right onto your face. He yanks your head against his thigh, delirious face dazed and coughing softly as he finishes on your glitter and mascara run cheeks, using the tip to smear it well into your ruined makeup as he sneers at you from above.

“Hah…” he catches his breath, sucking in oxygen along with you as his gaze turns calculated.

“Wake up, I’m not done with you yet.” He’s more gentle now that he's cum at least once, tapping your uninjured cheek with two fingers as your eyes roll around before opening and looking at him.

He swears, your face making him hard again instantly, blood pooling to his groin at the messy sight of you in your white ruined angel costume. “You really are unlucky I was out tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.” His dead serious comment caused something cold to hit your veins, chills running through you as you gape in shock.

“W-what…?” He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out what looked like a foot long serrated hunting blade. He snickers at the blank look of shock on your features.

“What’s wrong, crybaby? No tears for me right now?” You’re shaking, getting paler by the second as you realize no, it’s not a costume, and yes, there is still dried blood on the blade. There’s dried blood all over him, his spree tonight ridiculously fruitful and his body still high on the thrill. Imagine his luck finding you. “T-this wasn’t in my profile, wh-what are you doing?” Now you look alert, now you act like a regular civilian, he notes cooly. “I only con-consented to the sex and stuff, I said I didn’t like—like blades or blood play.” Your eyes are wide as saucers and you have a cold sweat now forming and dotting your skin, shaky like on too much caffeine as your body dumped chemicals to help you run.

His head tilts, a few more strands of hair coming loose from his tie as those red eyes watch you without any emotion in their depths.

“Ah~ I get it now. Are you some kind of freak who links up with people online for this kind of shit?” He laughs, eyes not matching the manic toothy grin. “Sorry to disappoint slut, I ain’t your tinder or whatever match. Did you do it anonymously?” He’s beyond amused, thrilled by the horror dawning on your face as reality sets in. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He sneers, but he’s joyful when you book it, heeled boots caked in mud as they dig into the ground and you take off for real. True intent to get away now because he’s not your new friend, he’s a real stranger and his energy is nothing but malevolent.

You’re going to die.

It’s a sick thought that twists inside you as you push the hardest you’ve ever, scream bubbling up and out as you cry for help now. “HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!” It’s more broken and hoarse than you want, his earlier abuse to your throat having taken a number on your ability to vocalize.

It’s empty. This damn park is empty.

Not a soul around and you can’t hear him coming for you anymore, and it only makes the tears fall harder as you drive your body to a breaking point. If no one is around you can at least aim for your car, your phone will take too much time to look at and dial the police, you’d be too open and that would mean—

Something—someone—smashes into you, your body thrown sideways by the brute force and flung roughly to the ground where you roll several feet.

It hurts—!

Your body and mind scream as pain lights up your shoulder, a previously dull ache now hounding for your attention so much it left you lightheaded. You twisted your ankle too or maybe broke it, already so regretful for the evening and your life choices that your shoes hardly broke the bank. It all hurt, and yet you still tried to crawl to get away, still eager for another deep breath of air in your lungs even if it hurt to do that too.

“Hck, please, please—help—!,” you’re a sobbing pathetic mess, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the sight. He dusts himself off like he hadn’t tackled you like a linebacker for a major league football team, his lanky form sinewy with muscle and his agility nothing to scoff at. He swirls the enormous daunting blade with a whistle, smiling more genuinely as he strolls towards your shaking form crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, crybaby? I said I wasn’t done with you,” he lands a solid hit to your middle, dirty sneaker smearing mud on your cute little dress, looking less and less white as the night wears on. The blow is not hard enough to damage anything, he’s sure, but you act as if you’ve been disemboweled by how you howl and heave. He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, settling one foot between your shoulder blades and pressing down until you’re left immobilized.

Your vision is blurry, going in and out of focus as you try, and try, and try to get away, cute nail polish chipped and ruined as you claw at the dirt floor for leverage.

He admires your tenacity. “You think you can get away? That anyone is coming to save you?” He brushes a few stray hairs out of his face as he laughs, the urge to gut you strong as he savors your useless little struggle. “Crybaby, look around! No one is coming! I said look,” he grinds out, dropping to one knee while his other leg remains planted on your back, his hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up to see what he meant.

There’s a fence. A metal chain link fence, and it had a sign your vision was too blurry to read through your tears.

“You ran yourself straight into the worst possible area, this is sort of your game over,” He leans down to look at you, yanking your head back and forcing you into an uncomfortable arch. He raises up the blade, fully intending to slit your pretty throat and watch your eyes as the light fades, but you blubber out a sentence which halts him.

“Y-you didn’t finish! E-earlier, hck, earlier you didn’t finish—!” Your eyes squeeze closed in pain as he yanks your head to the side. Confusion burned in him, and curiosity kept you breathing for now.

“Didn’t finish what, crybaby? Fairly certain I finished all over your face, if I remember correctly.” He has a sharp edge in his tone, something metallic fills your mouth and you realize you’ve bitten through your tongue in your panic. A few drops spill past your lips, catching his attention.

“S-shouldn’t you also f-fuck me too? I-it’s why I came out tonight, wh-why I, ah, d-did this,” it’s a long shot by any means, and he’s no fool, but you did make a good point.

He was still hard.

“Smart little crybaby, aren’t you?” He mutters darkly, setting aside his blade in favor of smashing your face into the dirt, keeping your head down as he presses against your back and yanks your hips up. Your knees are skinned from the rough handling, socks torn open and stained with blood and dirt while his calloused hands slip beneath your dress. Your breath hitches. You needed to think of some way out of this, some kind of plan to escape or incapacitate him.

He’s busied himself with your still dripping cunt. Two fingers roughly filling your hole and uncaringly stretching your tight entrance. “You really are a freak, wet even though you’re going to die, crybaby.” He felt a bit strange as you whimper and mewl below, hand slowing as he tried to place the feeling.

He shrugs it off, instead easily yanking down his jeans which were still unbuttoned and pulling out his cock once more, stroking his shaft a few times before he lined himself up with your puffy lips. “Fuck—,” he swears, eyes seeing stars as he pushes just his tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, mouth opening as licks his lips and stares down at you. “Never had pussy so good…” he giggles darkly, cracking his neck as he pushes each inch inside of you, stretching you out deliciously until you’re speared on his cock with his hips flush with your ass. “Who knew you’d be the best, crybaby.” He muses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, your little dress flipped up and over your ass so he can watch it bounce as he leans back on his knees to fuck you deeper. You need to think straight but it’s difficult with how good your body feels, the pain from earlier seeming to go away with a numb buzz as he fills your pussy, hitting perfectly against a spot that has you arching harder for more.

You really are a freak like he says.

You can’t help relaxing further, eyes dumbly looking to the side where your head rests as he pounds into you from behind, the coil in your gut growing tighter by the minute.

The clouds blocking the moon seem to part just for you, the full moon’s light no longer blocked and illuminating the little patch of grass he’d tackled you into. Something gleams, in perfect reach too as your eyes widen.

His knife.

He’d already proven you can’t outrun him, but what if he was injured? There’s a major artery in the thigh, if you hit that, wouldn’t you be able to get away?

He yanks back roughly, moaning as he feels you squeeze even tighter around him, velvet walls massaging his dick while he tries to fuck himself as deep as possible inside of you.

It hit you despite all your intentions not to, because this wasn’t safe and he wants to end your life and everything is wrong, but your body doesn’t listen. You cum with a shaky cry, and with an awkward turn of your head you watch as his head goes back and he moans, eyes closed in bliss as you coat his cock in even more slick.

You’re louder than you intended to be, but your fingers close around the hilt nonetheless, trembling with the heavy weight in your grasp, you use every ounce of energy inside you to swing it back into his thigh.

“Cute,” you scream as he catches your wrist, hand clenching so tight you feel your bones grind together as the knife falls from your grip. He twists your arm around and pins your wrist behind your back, holding it in place while his other hand remains at your hip.

“So fucking cute, crybaby. Did you cum just to distract me or was that because you couldn’t help yourself?” He’s getting a high from this, from fucking you and turning you into nothing but a toy as he bounces you on his cock, hips still but arms pulling you back and forth with ease. Scarlet eyes drink you in with undisguised sick glee, and he’s finally able to place the feeling from earlier.

“A pretty little slut trying to get her rocks off and getting shown why she should’ve been a good girl and stayed home,” he grunts, releasing you and leaning over, pinning you with his weight and nearly knocking the air from your lungs how deeply he hits you inside from this angle. Dirt fills the underbelly of your nails, your fingers digging into the earth just for some semblance of stability.

You had none. It was a sick and horrifying realization. You have no control. You can do nothing to stop this. As deeply as it made your gut sink, another odd emotion rose to the surface.

A bubbly sensation that tore through you as your tears became less from fear and more from overstimulation.

His hips piston in and out of you, bullying your cervix in this position as he ruts into you like a hound, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he moans and grunts.

You break again, spasm and cinch down on his cock like a vice while you wail as if in mourning. Maybe you are, for yourself at least. “Oh fuck—! s’too much—, please, I can’t—, f-feels good, hah,” your nearly incoherent babbling sends him over the edge along with you, his own dull nails finally drawing blood as he holds you for dear life as he releases deep inside you, tip kissing right up against you womb as he cums. You can feel it too, his cock twitching inside as the night seems to still for a moment.

He holds you for a while. Breathing you in, nuzzling his face into your neck and licking you. He holds you until his cock fully softens and it hurt to be gripped so tightly inside your wet heat, regrettably pulling away.

He stands, putting his sticky limp cock away inside his underwear and pulling up his pants, looking down at your ruined figure that had slumped over to the side.

“Y’know, crybaby… you really resemble an angel now,” he smiles, red eyes almost glowing as the moon blankets his back and shadows his face. His hair seems almost white like this, your tired eyes note. You don’t move or even flinch as he grabs his knife and yanks your limp figure up by your hair. Even now you’re still crying, face lax despite the rivers flowing down your dirty swollen cheeks. You make no effort to stop him, having given up completely.

He crouches down again, mostly eye level now as he makes you look at him.

“You got any last words?” He’s being dead serious. He feels strange looking at the almost glazed over look in your eyes.

“W-what…” your voice is barely a whisper, but the night is so quiet he catches it, “what’s your…name?”

An unexpected question.

His eyes gleam, smile ravenous as he puts his lips against your ear and whispers it.

“Tomura, what’s your name, crybaby?” He asks, gently, almost like he’s actually interested.

You hoarsely whisper it, your last time ever saying it after tonight. He hums, like it pleases him, before he brings down the knife swiftly.

Your vision goes dark, the strike mercifully painless. Your last thoughts blur as you drift into soft nothingness.

He releases your hair, grabbing your limp figure up in his arms as he chuckles and sheaths his knife properly on his hip. “Dumb crybaby” his voice almost singing the words as he whistles and walks away, the park dead silent but even if someone had seen you in his arms, he could just play the good boyfriend taking his sweetheart home safely. It’s not entirely a lie either, his eyes glancing down at your unconscious form, pretty neck unmarred but a bruise would likely form on the back where he struck you tomorrow. Tomura had never felt compelled to allow a victim to live, but then again he’s never fucked a victim either, so you’re the first for a lot. He supposed it made you quite special, his legs carrying him in the direction of his car in the parking lot about a mile south. Obsession and possessiveness swirled in those red depths as they looked at your figure.

“Good girls should just stay home…” he continues his sardonic little tune, his smile gruesome and foreboding.

Vibrant blue orbs check his surroundings again, noting once again his friend was a no show. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was too good to be true. Your profile screamed inexperienced and cautious, despite you clicking that you’d like him to remain anonymous beforehand. It didn’t matter, he’d just go enjoy some sorority girl pussy instead, figuring at 0330 that most parties would be winding down. Drunk girls dressed like sluts were his second favorite.

Dabi clicks the notify option on his app, letting the website staff know you never showed up.

Though, he muses if something did happen, the police wouldn’t be notified until it was too late. Halloween weekend after all meant you could be missing for quite a while before anyone noticed.

Not his problem though.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

The Offspring || Douma x female demon!reader

Summary: Despite all obstacles, you were able to grant Douma with a demon child

Warnings: None, just Douma teasing Akaza and Akaza being so done with Douma also soft Douma

Word count: 3853

Authors: Cass & Rouge

Douma was taken aback by the news. He never fathomed the possibility of impregnating you. Did he feel remorseful about it? Perhaps slightly, but his intrigue and captivation overshadowed any misgivings he may have had.

Frequently, he would sit with you on his lap and caress your burgeoning belly with slender fingers, all while his iridescent eyes fixated on the stirring movements beneath the skin. The sensation of feeling a life growing inside of you was something he had never experienced before, and it left him entranced.

Upon the arrival of your little one, his fascination only amplified. 

Six months passed. 

He stood there, beholding the small bundle in his arms with reverential awe. The baby’s eyes, like a burst of rainbow hues, met Douma's own gaze, as if recognizing the demon before him.

You stood in the hallway, your gaze fixed on Douma as he played with your child. The door was half-opened, allowing you to watch the scene unfold without disturbing them. 

You couldn't help but smile at the sight before you. Douma had a special way with children if he only wanted to, and you were thankful that he was a part of your and your child's life; instinctively, you knew he'd have done whatever it takes to keep the both of you safe and sound.

The little baby was looking at Douma, his chubby hands reaching out towards the man.

Douma's low hum interrupted the quiet atmosphere. The corners of his lips tugged up into a sly smile, his eyes fixed on you as he addressed his son. "You like to watch me, don't you, Y/N?"

You smiled as you slowly entered the room, improving the cardigan over your shoulders. "Hey darling, forgive me, I didn't want to interrupt. I also love to watch you two interacting."

You approached Douma, and looked down at the baby boy he held in his arms. You saw the boy's tiny finger curling around Douma's slender, index finger, his colorful eyes looking up at you with curiosity. He was dressed in a soft blue onesie; it made him look even more adorable. 

You couldn't resist the urge to interact with your son, so you lowered your head and rubbed your nose against baby's tummy. This playful gesture earned you a burst of laughter from the child, his little body wriggling with joy. You smiled as you continued to tickle and play with the baby, enjoying his infectious giggles.

Douma tilted his head to the side, his gaze fixed on the tiny bundle in front of him. "It's hard to believe we created something so precious," he mused, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at Douma and smiled warmly at him. The corners of your mouth curled up, and your teeth were visible; your cheeks lifted, and your eyes crinkled with joy. 

The baby boy's gaze shifted to Douma, and a smile spread across his chubby face. His eyes sparkled with delight as he puffed out his cheeks, and his little arms reached out towards the man; his fingers wiggled as he tried to grab hold of Douma's turtleneck. The baby's whole body seemed to radiate with happiness as he cooed and giggled.

"Keito is in love with you, there's no doubt," you chuckled, looking up at Douma.

Douma couldn't shake off the strange feeling that lingered within him. He kept replaying the events in his head, trying to convince himself that it had all actually happened. "Is he not the most precious thing you've ever seen?" Douma beamed, cradling the baby in his arms. "I played a vital role in his creation, after all. Without me, he wouldn't be here."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but smile at the way Douma was cooing over the baby. "And without his mother, he wouldn't be here either," you countered playfully. "Douma, could you please place Keito on the ground for me?" You requested, watching as Douma carefully lowered the boy to the floor.

Meanwhile, you made your way across the room and took a seat on the floor on the other side.

As you watched your son sit confused on the floor, you couldn't help but giggle. Patting your knees, you said loudly, "Keito! Keito, love! Come to mama!"

As he settled into his spot, you couldn't help but notice the way he patted his knees in a playful, almost childlike manner. His voice, too, took on a tone of cheerful exuberance, as he cooed in a singsong voice, "Keito! Come to your daddy."

The baby boy was absolutely confused about where he should go, whether to his mom or to his dad. He looked around with a blunt expression glued to his little face, his little hands reaching out to both of you; he was turning his head as if searching for an answer. His eyes darted from his mom to his dad.

Douma viewed parenting as a competition, a game he was determined to win at all costs. "Come to papa, my little blessing," he cooed, his voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. "Come to daddy. Daddy's going to cuddle you just how you like it."

You tried to make little Keito look at you and crawl towards you by calling out to him, "Hey Keito, look at me! Come on, you can do it! Come to mama!" You waved your hands and made silly faces to get his attention, but he seemed more interested in his father crouching on the other side of the room. 

Eventually, after a few more attempts, the boy finally looked up and smiled at Douma before trying to crawl on all fours like a little explorer towards his dad.

Douma's iridescent eyes twinkled with sheer delight as he eagerly outstretched his arms, beckoning the little boy towards him.

As the child reached him, Douma let out a boisterous laugh, scooping him up into a warm embrace. "My little blessing!" He exclaimed, his voice brimming with affection. "Of course you would come to me, your beloved father."

You improved your position to sit on your butt while letting out a sigh full of sadness. "Of course! I could have predicted it! I'm getting jealous of you, Douma. Keito always chooses you over me."

Demon's eyes sparkled with joy as he gently bounced the baby boy in his arms. "Of course he does," he said with a chuckle. "I am his father, after all. And we share those beautiful eyes." He leaned in close to the baby's face and whispered, "You're a blessed child, just like I was… and am still."

You smiled a little to yourself, even though your heart ached, as you thought about how your son always seemed to prefer his father over you. It wasn't that he didn't love you or want to spend time with you, but there was something about his father's carefree demeanor that drew him in.  

It hurt, but you knew that it wasn't a reflection of your love or your abilities as a mother. Instead, it was just a phase that you had to accept and be patient with. Despite the sadness that lingered in your heart, you knew that your son was lucky to have such a loving and involved father in his life.

As you sat on the wooden floor, lost in thought, you couldn't help but think about how much Douma had changed since you had become pregnant. It was as if the presence of new life growing inside you had awakened something inside him that he had never known existed before. He was always a curious and intelligent man, but now he seemed to be discovering the world and its human emotions in a new and profound way.

In the past, Douma held a disdainful view of children. They were a nuisance, always getting in the way and making noise. He had no desire to interact with them and would have been perfectly content to live a life without their presence.

However, all of that changed when his own blessed son was born. As soon as he held the little one in his arms, he felt a deep sense of attachment and responsibility. Suddenly, the child became his everything, his one and only source of pride and joy. "I never thought I would care for a child," Douma confided to you. "But now that I have one of my own, I can't imagine life without him. He's the most precious thing in the world to me."

After getting up from the floor, you cleared your throat. "Hey, Douma, I needed to tell you something, and I've almost forgotten. Kokushibo announced his visit. As far as I know, he'll bring that other demon you spoke about a lot, Akaza, was it his name?" You rubbed your chin with your sharp nail. "I think that Muzan is sending them to calculate the possible risks, you know what I mean?"

Douma's eyes widened as he perked up, a glint of excitement sparkling in his gaze. "Akaza is coming to visit me? How delightful! I have been dreaming of this for decades!" His voice dripped with anticipation, his mind racing with thoughts of what he could offer his esteemed guests.

Suddenly, the booming voice of Kokushibo interrupted his thoughts, filling the room with its powerful presence. Douma wasted no time and eagerly slid the door open to reveal both demons standing before him.

"Kokushibo-dono, welcome, and Akaza-dono! I cannot express how overjoyed I am that you have decided to visit me!" Douma exclaimed, his tone effervescent with pleasure.

Kokushibo merely strode into the room with a nod of acknowledgment, his stoic demeanor in stark contrast to Douma's bubbling enthusiasm.

You bowed my head respectfully towards Kokushibo, acknowledging his presence and authority. You approached Douma and stood behind him, as if you were trying to hide a little.

Akaza was not at all thrilled about the visit that he was forced to take part in, but he stepped in regardless. As he looked around the room, his eyes eventually fell upon you, and he was taken aback by your beauty. He couldn't help but feel surprised that Douma had managed to find someone as seemingly pretty and cute as you.

Akaza quickly regained his composure, and continued with politeness, albeit with a hint of skepticism in his tone. "Interesting place."

"My followers come here to see me. And, well now, him as well," Douma smiled proudly, showing off his baby to Akaza. "They ask me for all sorts of stuff."

Akaza couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at Douma's boastful attitude, but he kept his cool. "I see."

"That's why we are here. The child," Kokushibo said, pointing at little Keito.

Although you felt the urge to take the boy out of Douma's hands, you resisted the temptation.

Akaza glanced over at the tiny bundle cradled in Douma's arms, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Is that it?"

You nodded a little, looking at the pale demon from behind your partner's shoulder. "This is Keito."

Douma couldn't resist adding his own comment. "Oh yes, Akaza-dono! This is my little Keito. A child as blessed as me," he boasted, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Kokushibo strode over to the trio, his eyes fixed on the tiny bundle in Douma's arms. Without a word, he reached out and plucked the baby from Douma's grasp, holding him up by the back of his collar as if he were a mere kitten.

As Kokushibo carelessly plucked your son from Douma's hands, you felt a sudden wave of dizziness wash over you; your vision began to blur, and you swayed unsteadily on your feet. You couldn't believe how casually Kokushibo had handled your precious child, as if he were nothing more than a mere object. Your maternal instincts kicked into overdrive, and you fought to stay upright as a rush of panic coursed through your body. "Careful, you're handling a baby, not some kind of doll."

Akaza took notice of your distress and turned his gaze towards you, his expression betraying a hint of concern. His eyes darted between you and Douma, assessing the situation at hand.

Meanwhile, Kokushibo glanced at you before expertly cradling little Keito in his arms, as if he had done it a thousand times before. It was clear that he was confident in his abilities to handle the child.

Douma noticed Akaza's expression and sought to reassure you. "You see love? No need to worry! It's Kokushibo-dono," he said, flashing you a reassuring smile. "Oh! Right! Akaza-dono, this is my one and only Y/N," he said, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. "Love, this is my best friend, Akaza," he introduced, gesturing towards another demon.

You let out a loud sigh full of relief when Keito was placed safely in Kokushibo's arms. After looking at Akaza, you bowed your head slightly.

As Akaza turned to face Douma, his curiosity piqued. "How did you manage to find someone like her?" He asked, gesturing towards you. "I had no idea that demons were capable of breeding, though."

Kokushibo, cradling a small baby in his arms, looked up at the conversation. "Because they aren't," he chimed in a stoic tone.

Douma, however, remained unfazed. He simply smiled, pulling you close against his side. "You see, my dear Akaza," he began, his voice smooth as silk. "It takes more than just biology to create life. It takes love, devotion, and a strong desire to create something beautiful in this world."

As you heard Kokushibo's words, you could feel your face flush with embarrassment.

As Douma spoke, Akaza scoffed in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, and his expression made it clear that he was highly skeptical of Douma's claims. "Yeah, surely. I bet you were blessed after devouring so many women."

The infant nestled in Kokushibo's arms looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, studying him intently, as if he were trying to decipher his intentions.

Kokushibo's six piercing eyes scrutinized the child before him, his curiosity piqued as to why it wasn't cowering in fear. His gaze bore into the tiny creature, searching for any sign of weakness or vulnerability.

With a dismissive roll of his eyes, Douma waved a hand at Akaza, as if brushing off his words. "Come on, Akaza, you know how it is. I at least devour women and gain strength from them. And I was simply fortunate enough to come across this cute little thing," he gestured to you, "who was kind enough to give me a child."

Akaza's patience was wearing thin as Douma continued to speak in his usual arrogant and disrespectful manner. With a deep scowl etched on his face, Akaza finally spoke up, his voice low and dangerous. "If you don't stop speaking that way," he warned, "I'll be forced to give you a punch, like the last time."

To Kokushibo's surprise, the baby suddenly broke into a wide, toothless grin, his chubby cheeks dimpling with delight.

Kokushibo's gaze shot up from the infant in his arms at the sound of Douma's voice. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken animosity. "Akaza," Kokushibo growled softly, his voice low and warning. "I did not bring you here so the two of you can fight."

Douma merely rolled his eyes, a look of pure boredom etched onto his features. "I don't want any blood on those floors. It's hard to clean."

You just stood there, facepalming at the entire situation. "Kokushibo-dono, can I have my son back?" You asked.

Kokushibo nodded and carefully handed the boy back to you.

You set your arms in a little cradle, to make sure Keito was safe in them.

Douma couldn't resist the urge to taunt Akaza. With a sly grin, he presented the baby boy to his fellow demon, holding the child up for him to see, almost shoving Keito into Akaza's face. "Look at this, Akaza," Douma chimed, his voice dripping with amusement. "I made this."

"Douma, please," you said firmly, your tone serious. "You need to be on our best behavior here. Remember, you weren't the only one involved in making this child."

Without a word, you simply reached out and gently took the child from his arms, cradling him against your chest.

Akaza let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head in amusement at the entire situation. "Well, well," he said, looking at you with a wry grin, "It seems that your woman has some balls after all, Douma."

Douma gasped, feeling offended. "Well, I at least have a woman."

"Kokushibo-dono, can I have a word with you?" You asked the Upper One, handling the baby back to Douma after a moment.

Douma gladly accepted and hugged the boy.

Kokushibo nodded and followed you to the other room.

"Kokushibo-dono, forgive me for asking, but did Lord Muzan say anything?" You asked after sliding the door closed.

Kokushibo's words hung heavy in the air, his face etched with a deep sense of concern and apprehension. "Lord Muzan wasn't pleased about this development," he said slowly, his voice low and measured. "It was something that should never have happened, yet he's holding onto a glimmer of hope."

As Kokushibo spoke, you listened intently, calmed a little by his words. "I wasn't even aware that it was possible for a female demon to get pregnant," you said, your voice filled with wonder. "So, what does this mean for us? To me and Douma? I just hope Lord Muzan won't kill any of us."

"He said that getting rid of you or Douma would be a waste of his time, but he will need the child's blood to run some tests on it."

"Of course," you whispered, nodding your head. "Thank you for bringing the good news, Kokushibo-dono."

Meanwhile, Akaza observed Douma interacting with the baby.

"What are you looking at?" Douma asked, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "You want to hold him?"

Akaza furrowed his brows, looking hesitant for a moment. "I don't know," he said, his voice uncertain, "I'm not really good with babies."

But despite his reservations, Akaza eventually relented, reaching out to take the baby from Douma's arms. As he held the child, his expression softened, and a look of wonder crossed his face. He gently poked the little boy's cheek with his finger. "Squishy."

As Douma observed the scene before him, he couldn't help but emit an amused chuckle. "Awwww! Akaza-dono! You two look so cute together! I never expected to see you looking so soft," he gasped, his voice laced with playful mockery.

"He's so small," Akaza murmured, gazing down at the baby in his arms. "And so fragile. Everything would be fine if not your scent lingering over him," Akaza looked at Douma, his face serious. "You don't deserve any of this, you do understand?"

Douma's grin never faltered as he spoke. "You may say that I don't deserve it, but I have everything I could possibly want. I have a woman I adore and a child that we brought into this world together."

Akaza's expression suddenly turned stern, and he glared at Douma. "Stop grinning like an idiot," he growled, "Or I'll wipe that stupid grin off your face. I have no idea why and how she got involved with you, and it's not my business. She seems like a decent demon, not that strong, yet still intriguing. I can assure you, that if anything will happen to any of them because of your careless behavior, I won't be that nice anymore."

The corners of Douma's lips curled upward as he watched Akaza interact with Keito. The sight was simply too precious to ignore. He couldn't resist the urge to tease his companion. "Aww! Are you going to be a good uncle, Akaza-dono? I always knew you had it in you!" Douma exclaimed, his voice light and playful as he wrapped an arm around Akaza's broad shoulders.

Akaza stood there, his fist clenched at his side, his eyes fixed on Douma's smirking face. He was trying his best to remain calm, to control the overwhelming anger that was bubbling up inside him. But it was difficult. So difficult!

Douma had always been a thorn in his side, with his arrogance, lack of respect for women and his self-assured demeanor. And now, with this baby in the picture, it was even worse.

As much as he wanted to punch Douma's face in, Akaza knew he couldn't. Not now, not when there was a child in the room. So he took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to compose himself. "Whatever, Douma."

As Douma's fingers wove through the strands of Akaza's disheveled hair, a mischievous grin played across his lips. 

Soon, you and Kokushibo returned to the room and after exchanging some more courtesies, you thanked him and Akaza for the visit and assured them you and Douma were at Muzan's disposal at any time.

"Keep the boy safe," Kokushibo had reminded the two of you before leaving for good.

The baby smiled at him widely, blinking shortly after as the little hiccup kicked in.

Suddenly, Douma let out a low chuckle, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Look at this, a hiccup."

You walked closer and looked down at the boy, who had a clearly confused grimace glued to his little face. "He's adorable. He's perfect."

"Only because he has a perfect mother," he whispered.

You smiled at Douma briefly, kissing your son's forehead.

"Y/N? I was thinking...” He hummed.

You gave your partner a glance, tilting your head slightly.

"Well, since we made it once, and now we know it's possible..." he trailed off, biting his lip softly. "Maybe our boy would like to have a little sibling?"

"I'm not going through this ever again," you told him with a sweet smile. "Once was enough."

"Oh, Y/N, please!” Douma whined. "Making the baby is fun! So let's make another one."

After giving him another glance, you let out a sigh, massaging your temples. "Douma."

As he leaned into your shoulder, his voice low and sultry, you couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. "Do you see him?" He murmured, nodding towards the young demon playing in the corner. "He needs a playmate, someone to keep him company while we're away. We could be the perfect family, two beautiful demons and two adorable little ones."

You let out a sigh. "Firstly, how will you explain this to Lord Muzan? Secondly, how can you be sure it'll happen again?"

"Well... We won't know unless we try," he smiled at you sweetly.

"Fine," you told him, taking Keito into your arms. "Fine. Let it be."

"Oh, I love you, my goddess!" He exclaimed, his voice filled with pure adoration.

You smiled at his words, feeling your heart swell with love for both him and your child. "I love you too," you said softly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his jawline. "You both are everything to me."

The League Morning Wakeup headcanons.

Dabi (Todoroki Toya)

He Isn't a morning person. Hell, he doesn't seem like a person who likes to be woken up at all. Since he takes so many painkillers the guy sleeps a lot and can be found passed out almost anywhere, he sits down. So mostly likely he would get fucking angry, this would involve him yelling for a few minutes till he got a cigarette. He knows better than to burn things with his quirk now.

Himiko Toga

She is a morning girly. Definitely, because she was used to going to school and most likely gets up early and helps Kurogiri make the rest of the league food. I don't see her getting upset unless you wake her up in the middle of the night. Then she is going to either cut you or bite your hand.

Shigaraki Tomura

He isn't a morning person. Because most of the time he is staying up till 5am playing video games. Most likely when he is woken up before he decides to get up. He is dusting something. Either it is the person or something close to them to scare them. The first thing he is doing in the morning is downing at least 2 cans of mountain dew or a big cup of coffee.

Kurogiri

Doesn't really care when he wakes up since he is a nomu. He probably doesn't need as much sleep as a normal human. The first thing he is doing is making food for everyone. Then he is cleaning and deals with waking up Shigaraki. Since he is almost the only person besides Dabi who can come out unharmed.

Spinner (Shuichi Iguchi)

He is a morning person. Up before everyone, because he enjoys laying out in the morning sun to sunbathe. He wouldn't get upset being woken up early. That is unless it is winter and then he never wants to leave his bed because he is warm.

Mr. Compress (Atsuhiro Sako)

He would be a any time-of-day person. Just as long as he gets at least 8 hours of sleep. You know this man enjoys his beauty rest. He most likely would get up around 9 to 10 am.

Even if he is woken up too early, He wouldn't be upset and would just go for a cup of coffee.

Magne

She would be a morning girl. Get up with Toga and help her get ready. They both enjoy breading one another's hair and I could so see her taking care of Toga like she is her daughter. First thing she does is get coffee before she is off to put on her makeup and get ready for the day.

Twice (Jin Bubaigawara)

He would most likely wake up whenever. He deals with a lot of the outside stuff since no one knows his face. Therefore, I could see him having a job to earn money so the League can get food and other things they need. Spit him being how he is. I can see him being one of the League members that use an alarm and gets up at a normal time.

Sebastian Stan as The Winter Soldier in Vanity Fair’s Infinity War article.

Kinktober Day 1- Oral Sex

warnings: m!receiving oral, stress relief, rough oral, throat fucking, mentioned AFAB reader

kinktober masterlist

main masterlist

Bradley Bradshaw was a simple man. He loved his wife, he loved his friends, and he loved to fly. Even the things you love can become overwhelming sometimes; too much to handle, but you were always there for him when he needed to be calmed down.

It was a rough day of training. He blinked for a second and Maverick got lock on him. He was already frustrated with himself, but the teasing from his teammates grated on him the entire day.

You knew he was home when you heard the slamming of the door, followed by heavy stomps of boots on the hardwood. He was shuffling around in the kitchen, and by the way he was opening and closing cabinets and drawers, you could tell he was frustrated.

You debated going out to greet him, but you figured it would be best to let him come to you when he was ready. You know how he gets sometimes, he may just need a little time alone.

The noise subsides and about five minutes later, your husband appears in the doorway of your bedroom, still in his khakis and boots.

"Hi, Bradley," you say, softer than usual.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, voice gruff.

"Is everything okay?"

You sit up on the edge of the bed, looking soft and domestic in the warm lighting, surrounded by the messy blankets. Rooster starkly contrast you, looking imposing with his rigid posture in the shadow of the doorway.

"Rough day," he says plainly.

"I'm sorry, baby," you frown. "Is there anything I can do?"

He walks further into the room, over to the bed and positions himself between your open thighs. The way he looks down at you makes you feel small, and you dont bother resisting the urge to wrap your arms around his middle and push your face into his belly. He hugs you back, his big, calloused hands splayed across your shoulders. You hear Rooster let out a soft chuckle, which makes you smile into his shirt.

"Just this is good for me, honey," he says.

You continue to hold him, and after a few minutes, you start the feel the zipper of his pants pressing against you. You pull back and look up at him, only to find him already looking down at you with dark eyes.

"Brad?"

"Missed you so much," he says lowly.

You chew on your bottom lip, still looking up at him as he tries to subtly rock his hips against you. He moves his hand from your shoulder to your face, lifting your chin up towards him.

"Missed your pretty face... your sweet mouth."

"Do you want it?"

Bradley looks conflicted. He doesn't want to ask you to do that, but god does he want it.

"If you... wouldn't mind.?"

You give him a smile as you lean back to give yourself room to open the fly of his pants. He's straining against the zipper, and when you finally free him, he groans in relief.

His tip is wet and pre-cum drips down the side. You swipe your fingers through it, then spit in your hand to make the slide of your hand over his cock easier.

You lick the underside of his cock slowly as you hold the base. He lets out a heavy sigh as your hot, wet tongue drags over him. Bradley's hand slides into your hair at the base of your neck, holding but not pushing.

You inch down on his cock, taking his length into your mouth. He's big, the biggest you've ever had, and it took you a lot of practice to be able to take him all.

"So good, sweetheart. So fuckin' good for me."

Heat builds in your stomach at the praise. Leave it to Bradley to know just how to wind you up. Seeking out more, you relax your throat and take him further. Soon, you're nuzzling the hairs at the base of his cock and he's filling the air with curses.

"Baby, baby," he says, getting your attention. "Can I fuck your mouth?"

The swirling heat in your body makes your head spin, and you're nodding before you can even realize.

Bradley's other hand slides into your hair and he holds you still as he begins to slowly thrust into your mouth.

"Yeah, sweetheart, just stay still for me."

His eyebrows are pinched, both in pleasure and from the tension of the day that he so desperately wants to spill into your mouth.

Your hands grip his thighs, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of the relaxed muscle. Your husband rarely does this with you, but you don't think there's much else hotter than him taking what he wants.

"God, I'm close. Your mouth is so fuckin' good, baby. Feels so good on me. Love when you let me have you like this, look so pretty stuffed with my cock."

You know that when Bradley starts running his mouth, he's close. It takes a lot to get him to abandon his inhibitions, so get him close enough to the point where he doesn't feel embarrassed for telling vou want he really feels. You absolutely Iove it.

You swirl your tongue around him as much as you can, and suddenly you feel his hot cum pumping into your mouth. You swallow all of it, just how you know he likes, and he moans loudly as he rides out his orgasm.

Once he's finished, he pulls out and lets you catch your breath. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and smile up at him, which he returns.

"Thank you so much, baby. I love you," he says as he brushes his fingers scratch at your scalp.

"You're welcome. I'm glad I could help a little."

"Oh sweetheart," Bradley smirks, playing with your bottom lip with his thumb. "We're not done yet. I still need to return the favor."

Steve and Bucky dressed as their favorite heros

Eyes that hold the stars.