Dark Dabi X Reader - Blog Posts

Bakugou x F!Reader, Demon!Dabi x F!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

!!: sex, noncon, virginity, fingering, oral, spanking, ‘good girl’

A/N: And to round out kinktober 2023, something more than 100 words

Is there a word for bad miracles?

Stairs creak under your feet. A small gust of wind swirls around you and makes every hair on your body stand on end. Your boyfriend shines his flashlight around the dark foyer, highlighting the furniture covered with musty tarps. Whoever lived out here clearly thought they were coming back… until they didn’t.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, “Why did we have to come out here?”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid now,” Bakugou scoffs.

You watch the flashlight beam sweep across a corner laced with cobwebs. “It’s… creepy.”

“Come on,” he says and keeps climbing the staircase. “I got a surprise for you upstairs.”

“I swear to god if you’re trying to scare me.”

From the top of the stairs, the flashlight turns on you and illuminates your face. “Remember when we first started dating? Your profile said you liked adventure.”

“Yeah,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Hiking and shit, not abandoned houses.”

“C’mon, you’ll like it. I promise.” He walks down the hall, and when an eerie feeling settles over you from being alone, you run up the last couple steps to catch up to him.

Bakugou turns a door knob. You brace yourself for one of his friends to pop out from behind and scare the shit out of you. He walks in, and you take a hesitant step forward. Warm, soft lights come on.

Peering in, you let out a soft ‘oh’ before relaxing. In the middle of the room is a neatly made bed covered in rose petals. You recognize the plush comforter from Bakugou’s closet back at his apartment. The man in question walks around the room lighting white votive candles – some in equally small, carved pumpkins and others in glass holders. 

“Not so scary now, is it?”

“Katsuki,” a blush crawls up your cheeks. “Did you do all this?”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t let anyone else do it.” He lights the last candle before walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Why not a hotel or something?” you blurt out.

“Really?” he raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to nag about where I chose to go?”

“It’s just that it’s so romantic and everything else about the house is… not.”

“Our anniversary is Halloween. I’m sticking with the fucking theme.”

“We could’ve gone to an amusement park-” you start to protest.

Bakugou’s brows furrow together. “Why’re you stalling?”

“What?”

“You’re stalling.”

“I-”

“Damn it,” Bakugou runs a hand through his hair. “Kirishima was right, this was stupid. You hate it.”

“Katsuki, I don’t hate it, but there’s a bed in the middle of the room! And you know I’m saving myself for…” Your voice trails off. Saying it outloud, here, in the abandoned house, makes it seem so childish.

Bakugou’s rough thumb strokes your cheek. “I know you’re saving yourself for marriage. Which is why-” he slowly sinks down to his knee and pulls out a small velvet box. “-I was hoping you would say yes to marrying me.”

“Oh my god!” You slap a hand over your mouth. Through the tears welling up in your eyes, you can barely make out Bakugou’s hopeful expression as he waits with bated breath for your answer. Nodding, you hold out your left hand and let him slide the ring on with shaky fingers. “Yes, oh god, yes!”

You pull Bakugou to his feet and stare at the ring, a new comfortable weight on your finger. “I’m still waiting until we’re married,” you choke out as he wipes away the tears.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groans and pulls you close. “But there’s other things we can do here.” His lips press against yours. You relax into it, your body softening against his.

It starts as a distant rumble, something you could pass off as a car in the distance. But when the lights start to flicker and the house shakes, you and Bakugou break apart. An earthquake? Right now? Bakugou grabs your hand and mutters something about needing to leave before the place falls in on itself. 

Black smoke swirls from floor to ceiling in front of the two of you and all the air in the room is sucked in by the vortex. Bakugou’s arm stiffens under your vice like grip. When the smoke falls away, a man with jet black hair stands where the vortex was. Scarred skin covers a majority of his arms and upper part of his torso, but what stands out against that are his unsettling turquoise eyes that seem to glow from within.

“Mortals,” a gravelly voice snarls, “You dare to disturb my resting place?”

The more you stare, the less… human the man seems – if you can even call him a human. His ears, pierced with silver, are elongated and pointed, almost like one of the aliens from a sci-fi show Bakugou had you watch. And is it your imagination, or are there puffs of smoke escaping his body where scarred and unscarred skin meet?

But the cherry on top, the features that make all the alarm bells ring in your head, are a pair of white horns standing out against his dark hair. 

“Back the fuck off.” Bakugou puts his arm out protectively in front of you — as if that would protect you from whatever the fuck this thing is. 

“And what are you going to do about it?” the man sneers. With a flick of his clawed fingers, Bakugou flies away from you and slams into the wall. Hands splayed, he scrabbles to find purchase as he slides upwards.

“Let him go!” you scream, “Please! Let-”

As you take a step forward, Bakugou coughs, his words strained. “Get outta here.”

“Katsuki, no, I can’t leave you here!”

“Get. Help.” That jumpstarts something in your brain. Help. Right. Help. You don’t even get one step when the door slams closed. You freeze like a deer in headlights. The demon – you decide this as your mind catches up with the last thirty seconds, it’s the only thing that makes sense – turns his attention to you. He raises his other hand and you brace yourself to fly against the wall like Bakugou had.

“Hell, what is that scent. I haven’t smelled this since…” He trails off. Inhaling deeply, his eyes burn bright, an ethereal blue you can’t stop staring at. “A virgin.”

Bakugou lashes against his invisible restraints, but you remain rooted to the spot. 

A virgin. 

“You. You’re my ticket out of this shithole.” He stalks around the room. Turquoise eyes glow with excitement and rove up and down your body. “A virgin sacrifice will get me out of here.”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”  Kill you? Where are these words coming from? You don’t want to fucking die here! You certainly can’t fight this thing. Now is not the time to find false confidence. 

“Kill you?” His sharp laugh grates your skin like broken glass. “Why would I kill you when I could have my way with you?”

Blood drains from your face, leaving you lightheaded. “Have your way with me?”

“I intend to take your virginity, babe,” he smirks, “I’m outta here if I fuck you.”

“Fuck me?”

“Beelzebub below, are you dating a parrot or a woman?” the demon laughs at Bakugou. Turning to face you, all humor leaves the demon’s face. He makes a zipping motion with his fingers. “If all you’re gonna do is repeat what I say, then I don’t want to hear a single sound come out of you.”

Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s demonic power, but one way or another you’re paralyzed as the demon walks over to you. He drags one of his claws down your cheek and hooks it at the top of your shirt. Acrid smoke fills the air as his finger cuts away your clothes. Your shirt and bra — a black lace specially picked out for Bakugou — fall to the floor, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of the room. Your pants and panties follow suit and you close your eyes as both the demon and Bakugou drink in your naked form. 

Sharp nails drag across your skin as he circles you – thankfully painless and leaving no cuts like he did your clothes. The demon’s hand cups one of your breasts as if appraising it before trailing down your stomach and across your ass. 

This can’t be happening.

He’s talking, but it’s not to you, and you tune him out.

Please, please. Someone help us.

Bakugou struggles against the wall and the demon cackles before slinging more taunts.

If there is a god out there, please help me.

The demon’s hand smacks your ass with a satisfying smack. Silent tears roll down your cheek.

No one will come and save you.

Your head is viciously jerked to the side and you can make out the demon’s face inches from your own through your tearstained vision.

“I said,” he says softly, “Let’s give your precious boyfriend a show.” His hand slithers down your stomach and parts your folds. You shudder against his touch. 

No. No, no, no, no. 

His fingers graze your clit, sending a bolt of electricity to your core. Bile rises in your throat.

Please god no. Don’t let him touch me. This is humiliating enough.

There’s a chuckle in your ear. The demon presses a finger against your entrance and slowly eases in. Your mouth opens in a silent sob. He teases you, strokes your walls with a ‘come hither’ motion. 

You hate that you can feel him writhing around inside you. You hate that he’s gone farther than Bakugou ever had. But most of all, you hate that you can feel yourself loosening up for him; getting wetter for him. 

A second finger slides in. Bakugou glares at the demon but doesn’t look away. Can he not look away? Is he stuck watching you get fucked against your will?

A forked tongue wraps around the demon's fingers when he drags them out of you and holds them up for Bakugou to see – clear strings of arousal lapped up.

“Have you even tasted her?” he taunts, “She’s divine.” Bakugou’s gaze flits from you to the demon, his cheeks turning beet red. There’s no retort from him.

With a wave of the demon’s hand, the bed in the middle of the room slides closer to Bakugou. The demon takes your hand and leads you over.

A front row seat to your first time. Rose petals flutter around you as you bounce onto the bed. The bed Katsuki prepared. Your legs are knocked apart, and you watch in silent horror as the demon strokes his cock mere inches from you.

“Watch, mortal, as I take your girlfriend’s fucking virginity.” His glowing eyes turn back to you. The head of his cock presses against your entrance. You don’t want this. You were saving yourself for the man you planned on marrying. You were saving yourself for Katsuki. And now he has to watch this.

You should be embarrassed.

You should feel shame.

You should feel anything except… needy arousal.

You can’t even look away as he pushes in. Your voice may be gone, but you inhale sharply as his cock splits you open. It’s not what you thought it would be. There’s no pain, no uncomfortable tearing sensation; just a stretching that leaves you dazed and overwhelmed. 

“Fuck,” the demon hisses, “I forgot how good virgins are.” Large hands wrap around your waist and pull you further down on his cock. You bite your lower lip. Maybe the pain can distract you from how your blood is roaring inside you.

It’s not until he’s buried all the way inside you that his eyes flash a brilliant blue. He holds you against him, his mouth slightly agape. His whisper barely reaches your ears. You wouldn’t have known he was talking if you weren’t watching his mouth move.

“I’m free.”

You lay on your back unmoving. If he’s free then he could leave. He could walk out of the house and leave you and Bakugou alone. This nightmare could end.

“You fucked her, now let her go!” Bakugou’s shout causes the demon’s blissful peace to crumple into a snarl.

“Your pretty lady set me free, the least I can do is give her a good fuck to remember me by,” he smirks. His hands slide up the back of your legs and hook under your knees. Pushing them towards your chest, he leans in, somehow pressing deeper into you. Your breath hitches and your mouth falls open. 

Shit. 

If you had your voice, you know a needy moan would’ve filled the room.

All that leaves your mouth though is a sharp exhale. But he knows. He heard. You close your eyes to school your features. The moment you open them, his eyes, blazing with desire, are locked on yours.

He knows.

There’s an intimacy that brings a blush to your face as he fucks you slowly, his eyes still holding your gaze. Neither of you can look away. His cock kisses your cervix and when you think it can’t get any better, he shifts slightly, changing the angle. The demon leans in, his tongue licking a stripe up the column of your neck

“You taste so good, babe. I can taste your fucking arousal. If I give you back your voice, will you be a good girl for me?” His teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your skin. You nod, slowly at first – like the way the demon thrusts into you – then more emphatically as he speeds up.

“I want you screaming my name,” he murmurs in your ear, “I want to hear you screaming for Dabi.” His lips lock on yours, his tongue pressing against your lips. You can’t even pretend to put up a fight; you spread your lips and meet his tongue in the middle.

A trail of spit connects his mouth to yours when he pulls back.

“Say my name.”

“Dabi,” you croon with a worn out voice. You’re rewarded with the entire length of his dick pulling out and pushing back into you.

“Again.”

You say his name louder.

Each iteration louder than the last is rewarded with a torturously slow thrust.

But you need more. You squirm beneath him, angling your hips, anything to entice him to fuck faster. And the fucker has the audacity to slow down. 

“C’mere, Princess.” Dabi wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and rolls the two of you over. “I want to see these lovely tits of yours bouncing.” You arch your back as his claws trail down your back and settle at your waist. He lifts you up and down his cock, helping you get a rhythm before you take over.

The pressure building in your core has you bouncing frantically on him – you’d felt it before when you used toys and your fingers to bring yourself pleasure, but this is something more. Something toe curling. Something that has you digging your fingers into his forearms. His dick is able to hit the right places you could never get, barely satiating a newfound need deep within you.

“Hold on, Princess,” Dabi groans and effortlessly holds you above him, the tip of his cock barely inside you. You whimper at the loss of contact and try to fight his grip. “I want this to last as long as possible, so take a seat up here.”

Apparently your dumbfounded expression is hilarious since he starts laughing.

“Up here, babe.” His tongue flicks out between a scarred bottom lip and an unscarred upper lip. When you still look unsure, he hauls you up and settles your legs on either side of his face. He trails kisses up your inner thigh, each one inching closer to your core.

“Don’t worry, babe, I won’t break.”

He locks your legs against his face and you have no choice but to seat yourself against his mouth.

He has you gasping the moment his tongue flicks out. Your hands run through his hair as he laps at you, each stroke adding to your overwhelming passion. Grabbing onto hair and horn – really whatever is within your grasp, you pull yourself against him and spread your legs further. 

A chorus of ‘please’ and ‘more’ fall from your lips like a desperate prayer as Dabi’s tongue swirls around your sensitive nerves.

It’s not until you lean back so his tongue can delve inside you that you feel guilt. Crimson eyes locked onto you in disbelief silences your intoxicated begging. He might as well have poured ice water over you. 

You forgot about him.

You forgot your fiance was pinned to the wall, watching you enjoy a demon’s cock.

Every moment, every sound forever etched into his mind as you stopped fighting and gave in to temptation.

A sharp nip on your inner thigh brings you back to Dabi. You tear your gaze away and pull back to see the forked tongue you were enjoying so much laving the pinpricks left from his teeth.

“As much as I want you to come on my tongue, I’d rather have you creaming on my cock.”

He rolls you off his face and onto your back.

Obediently, you spread your legs, one hand creeping down to continue where he left off. The buzz running throughout your body increases with every enticing swirl of your fingers around your clit. 

“I want to come, Dabi,” you mewl. 

He laughs, the sound no longer shards of glass against your skin. “How can I refuse since you asked so nicely.”

He sinks inside you with a single stroke and you wrap your legs around his hips. Dabi’s fingers swat your hand away before taking over, his hand possessively splayed over your mound as his thumb works on your clit. Your hands twist in the comforter and rose petals as you drown in impending pleasure. 

“Who does this cunt belong to?” Dabi growls.

“You,” you whisper.

Correct, but not enough. There’s no rewarding thrust of his dick. 

“Who?” He raises an eyebrow. You know what he wants. You’re teetering on the precipice of orgasm, and every second he’s not fucking you, the feeling slips ever so slightly.

“You, Dabi!” You clench around him, desperate to keep your high. A clawed hand digs into your waist slightly and pulls you flush against him.

“Who’s the only one you’re going to fuck?” he hisses, turquoise eyes narrowing.

“You, Dabi!” you wail, the electric feeling building up, almost uncontainable. “I belong to you!”

“Good girl,” he growls and fucks into you again, “Come for me.” His words – his permission – wash over you and release the pent up feeling. Your orgasm rips through you, an intensity you’ve never felt before. No toy or even your own fingers could compare – would compare ever again.

Dabi’s hips smack against your own once, twice more before pressing flush against you. Heat pools in your lower abdomen and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. A part of you wonders if sex is always like this, but an even smaller part of you knows that it’ll only be this good when you’re with Dabi.

He untangles from you and leans over, panting slightly. He presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek before his lips ghost over your skin to your ear.

“Left you a parting gift, Princess,” he purrs, “If you ever want to see me again, just look in a mirror and say my name three times.”

The bedroom door flies open and Dabi looks your blissed out form over one last time before walking out.

When the front door slams closed, Bakugou is released and falls to the floor. He rushes to you, his hands clenching and unclenching as he hovers at the edge of the bed. Worry pushes his brows together.

All he can do is watch.

It’s up to you to break the silence.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki,” you pant, “I said I was saving myself for the person I was going to marry.” 

One Week Later

You look yourself over in the bathroom mirror, adjusting your light blue bra. Pushing moving boxes out of the way, you nod to yourself encouragingly.

No time like the present.

“Dabi,” you whisper. Your irises flash a brilliant turquoise for a second. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Dabi.” You swear you can feel his claws ghosting over your skin.

“Dabi.” The lights flicker for a moment before going out completely. The only thing visible in the mirror is the thin blue ring around your irises – until another pair or ethereal blue eyes just over your shoulder joins them. Sharp nails dig into your arms.

A deep voice chuckles in your ear. “Miss me already?”

banner image by /mwrona on unsplash

❝A SACRIFICE TO THE CAUSE ❞

Dabi x fem!Reader (ft. Hawks)

summary: being a double spy, Hawks has to work his way through the League of Villains and prove his loyalty. Being tested by no one other than Dabi, how far is the hero willing to go, even if it means kidnapping an innocent civilian and handing her over to the villains?

cw‼️: dark content, yandere!Dabi, kidnapping, stalking, noncon, voyeurism, abuse, MDNI +18

word count: 4.3k

A/N: everything is inspired by this post

The clock hit past midnight. The noisy streets of downtown were still filled with people and traffic, but the outer parts of the town remained quiet, peaceful, the silence of the night almost too suffocating. That’s where the winged hero was supposed to meet his newest acquaintance, somewhere far from the noise and wandering eyes. Hawks stood up from his seat after finishing the last paperwork and turning off the lights in his office, preparing to fly outside. He looked up at the endless starry sky and sighed, perhaps silently wishing that everything would come to an end. It pained him to the core, to start negotiations with the most wanted villains of Japan, doing atrocities behind the scenes to prove their loyalty, and still, it was never enough. Despite from this being only a grand scheme planned by no other than the HSPC, still the winged hero felt troubled. He tried to constantly keep in mind that this was for the greater good, that his mission would bring plenty of advantages on the heroes side. And yet, his newest acquaintance just knew how to find the vilest ideas for Hawks to prove his loyalty, it’s like the hero could never put out the fire burning in those cerulean eyes that would constantly doubt him, look down on him with disgust, mock him and his ideals. He never trusted him. Dabi never trusted him.

Screw him, Hawks thought. Once he’d get more access to the rest of the League, he’d stay away from Dabi. But the start is the hardest part, he had to get Dabi’s approval before he was allowed inside the headquarters. But just like always, Hawks had mastered to put on his tough facade, ready to be the comission’s perfect weapon, cold and heartless when needed, just like he was trained to since a kid. Without wasting more time, he went outside, the cold breeze of the night ruffling his feathers as he flied towards the destination. The secret spot where he was supposed to meet the villain was just outside the town, near a port surrounded by old abandoned buildings and empty boats floating on the calm waters.

There he finally landed, calmly walking inside one of the buildings, instantly being met with the familiar face of the blueflame user, who was leaning against the wall, hands on his pockets, a dull expression on his scarred face. The moment his gaze turned to the winged hero, a sly grin formed on his face, already excited to play with his pet pro.

“You’re late” the villain raised his eyebrow, eyeing Hawks as he entered in. “Y’know I am not keen on patience.”

“Spare me this time” Hawks chuckled, raising his hands. “It’s already hard for me to go out of hero duties and come by whenever I’m summoned, I’m not exactly one with much free time ‘round here.”

Dabi remained silent, and Hawks continued.

“So… any news from your leader? Have I passed the test?”

“Not that fast, hero” Dabi’s lips curled into a grin. “I can’t just let you waltz your way into the League that easily now can I? There’s one more thing I need, and if you do it, m’gonna make damn sure to personally welcome you into our lovely group.”

Hawks let out a sigh, holding tightly onto the only string of patience he had left. He could sense the dangerous intent behind the villains words, dread settling in his gut as he was about to spill the latest mission for him.

Dabi ran a hand in his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper, and a picture, handing them over to Hawks. The hero looked at them, in the paper there was an address written, along with the names of some places. Then he looked at the picture, furrowing his brows in confusion. In it there was a young woman, a good looking one, probably on her twenties or so. Hawks didn’t seem to recognise her, or any of the places written on the paper.

“Context, if you don’t mind?” Hawks forced a smile and Dabi chuckled.

“To keep it short, I want you to bring ‘er to me. There’s her address written, where she lives, works, gets her morning drink and so on” he said.

“Who is this person, if I may ask?” the hero asked, the alarms in his head going off as he realised Dabi has been stalking this woman’s every move.

“Just a little obsession of mine, if I may say.” he licked his lips, his voice almost shaking from the pure thrill of the situation. “A pretty little thing I’ve been wanting to get my hands on for a loooong time..” he said, dramatically dragging his words.

Hawks looked at him in pure disbelief, before it finally hit him.

“Are you asking me to kidnap this civilian?!”

“The man too fast for his own good and yet so damn slow to catch on things” Dabi laughed, a hint of mockery in his eyes. “Yeah, bring ‘er to me. I doubt she’ll come willingly so unfortunately, y’gonna have to use some force.”

Hawks shook his head, letting out a laugh, even though the situation was anything but hilarious.

“You can’t be serious right now, man. How is this going to prove my loyalty to the League in any way?!”

“Birdie, don’t forget that I am your only way of joining our troop, the only way the rest of the League will trust ya as well because they trust me. And you’ll earn my trust for good if you do this. What’s the matter though? I thought you were ready to do anything in the name of the League, yeah? It’s a sacrifice to the cause.” Dabi smirked, a teasing glint in his blue orbs, amused by the hero’s reaction. It was something extreme, not exactly something the League had requested, but being the second in command after Shigaraki, Dabi sure as hell could do whatever he wanted as long as it doesn’t get in their way of plans. And he could use his pet pro as he saw fit until he was sure he could be trusted. He was more than capable of kidnapping the girl himself, but the League and its members had to stay low. Dabi shrugged, before putting a hand on the hero’s shoulder, slightly heated as a warning.

“Consider this as your final deed to join the League, the key to opening the door to new paths that will bring ya so much benefits. To reach our goals sacrifices must be made, and we don’t need weak useless trash among us.”

With a pat on his back Dabi finally walked out, leaving the hero behind. Hawks didn’t realise he had his fists clenched this whole time. He swallowed hard, taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves. He hadn’t done anything, and yet he could feel the guilt slowly forming inside because he knew he would do something soon. It was about to happen, even though he was in denial. He had to follow through the plan, no matter what, and this was the hardest part. He looked at the picture, the pretty woman who looked too innocent, a civilian living a normal life, how could he steal all that from her and throw her in the pits of hell with someone like Dabi? The League was full of dangerous people, but Dabi was the worst of them all. It gave him the shivers, thinking that a man like him had formed a creepy obsession towards a civilian like her, god knows what he would do to her? How could Hawks live knowing he’d destroy her life?

No matter what it takes, you must go through this till the very end, the comission president’s words echoed in his mind. Once you take this mission there is no going back, you must earn their trust, that’s what matters most. Do everything they ask for.

Well, fuck it.

*

*

The first days of winter had finally arrived, the weather conditions becoming harsher than usual. Despite the coldness, it was actually one of your favorite times of the year, so you highly anticipated winter and everything it brought. The freezing early mornings only to be comforted by a warm cup of coffee as you made your way to work, walking through the snowy streets of the city. You lived a normal cozy life, the routine never becoming boring, something you rather enjoyed than working on hero agencies or even becoming one yourself. Not that you had a quirk that would be useful in the battlefield, but even if you did, you wouldn’t choose the chaos that came with becoming a hero. You liked your life, as simple as it is, you didn’t need to achieve great things for you to be satisfied.

So today was one of the usual days for you as you made your way to work. Little did you know that a pair of sharp golden eyes had been following your every move for the past few days, studying, waiting for the perfect moment.

The tragic fate of a common civilian existing into a superhuman world where society is divided between heroes and villains, living your life so mindlessly because heroes are always there to protect everyone. As long as a hero is nearby, you are safe, live your life carefree and never worry about details such as someone stalking you late at night on your way home. You’d expect a villain when you turned your head, being cornered in an empty alleyway. But the shadow of those wings was familiar, your heart skipped a beat as you recognised the villain in front of you.

The hero?

“Y-You’re…” your breath hitched, looking at the feathers that were holding your wrists. “A hero?! W-What’s going on?!”

His cold gaze sent shivers through your spine, whilst his feathers covered your mouth and held you motionless, since when were heroes so villanous?

“Don’t make this harder for me.” he grunted, approaching closer, you were too terrified to notice the hint of guilt wavering in his voice.

I’m sorry for this..

Those were the last words you heard before you saw black.

*

*

“Rise n’ shine, sleeping beauty~”

The strange husky voice echoed through the air, whilst you struggled to open your eyes, following with a sharp headache that made you whimper. Your vision was still blurry, but you could notice two silhouettes right above you, looking at you as if you were some sort of rare souvenir in display for the public to see.

Hawks stood above you, looking at the villain who had unzipped the bag with you inside it, now half awake and confused, with your hands and feet bound. It didn’t take too long to come to your senses and realise your circumstances, terror setting in as you looked at your captors. You struggled to move, your eyes instantly filling with tears and all Hawks wished in that moment was to grab you and fly you away from this madness. But he couldn’t.

“So much prettier up close…” the other man whispered, leaning down on you. He had a hood on and a jacket zipped up to his chin, his face almost hidden but not even the shadows could hide the glowing blue eyes that bore into yours. “M’not gonna hurt ya, gorgeous.”

Then he turned to the other man behind him, and your eyes widened after recognising the hero, the same one you saw in the alleyway earlier. Your screams were muffed, a desperate look in your eyes as you stared at the hero who clearly wasn’t planning on saving you.

A scarred hand reached to remove the duct tape in your mouth.

“P-Please don’t hurt me!” you whimpered, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Please let me g-go! Y-You’re the number two hero… right?! What is going on, please untie me!!”

Hawks let out a sharp sigh, almost turning around, not being able to look at your state that he put you in. The other man laughed, removing his hood to reveal his spiky raven hair and his charred face, a face you’ve seen before on the news that made your blood turn cold. You couldn’t believe your eyes, this had to be some sort of nightmare.

“Y-You… you’re..”

“Oh? ” Dabi raised an eyebrow, his grin getting wider to the point his staples almost came off. “She seems to know me. Ain’t that just wonderful? No need for me to introduce myself to ya then, princess.”

“I must go now” Hawks stated, his back still facing you. “You got what you wanted, you better keep your end of the bargain.”

“Well done, hero” Dabi chuckled, emphasising the word on purpose. “I’ll personally make sure you get rewarded for all your efforts and hard work you’ve done for the League.”

It was almost like your crying and pleas for help went deaf on the hero’s ears, their little chat about “deals” and “rewards” made you sick to the stomach. The number two hero of Japan, participating in such filthy acts, someone plenty of people looked up to. “Help! Help me! Y-You fucking hypocrite!” you screamed, almost startling the both of them. “Y-You’re supposed to be a hero, to protect us! W-What are you doing?! Why did you bring me to him?! I don’t wanna die, what do you want from me?!”

Dabi let out a laugh, as if this was the most amusing show of his life. He roughly grabbed your chin, squeezing your cheeks as he stared into your plucked lips.

“You see it too, don’t cha? How fake these mighty heroes really are, how this society actually is” he grabbed your face, turning it to Hawks’ direction and continued “Just look at that guy, I gotta give it to him, really. Went out of his way to bring you to me, just as I requested.”

“Enough..” Hawks growled, his voice full of threat, warning him to not cross the line.

“Y’know, I’ve been eyeing you for a while, you’ve caught my interest,” Dabi spoke with a soft tone, almost too unsettling as he gently tucked some strands of hair behind your ear. “Due to.. recent circumstances, I couldn’t go further, all I could do is watch you, pretty girl. But that guy over there…” he pointed at Hawks, who was all tense from the situation. “That guy made it possible. Some hero ain’t he?”

“I said enough!” Hawks shouted, shooting his sharp feathers towards Dabi, pointed right on his neck. You let out a shriek, lowering your head in fear as your whole body trembled. Though the villain didn’t move an inch, his amused expression still plastered on his face. Keigo’s facade was slowly breaking, the frustration and anxiety this whole situation brought was clear as day on his face, and Dabi was living for it. Without getting his eyes off Hawks, he grabbed your arm firmly, pulling you to his body and making you face him.

“Since you’re finally on my hands, lets give him a show, shall we? ” he whispered on your lips, before turning to Hawks again. “And you…you better not move an inch, or I will get angry”

“What the hell are you on?” Hawks said through gritted teeth. “I did what you told me to. Enough is enough, Dabi.”

“Why so serious, let’s have some fun!” the villain said gleefully. He brought you on his lap, hands sneaking around your waist as he buried his head on your neck, taking in your scent. Shivers ran through your spine, afraid of what he’d do to you if you tried to get away, having heard of his atrocities. But he was surprisingly.. gentle. His mouth claimed yours, slowly savouring every inch while you didn’t put on resistance, letting him invade your mouth with his tongue. Warm hands placed on your hips, gently squeezing and digging in your soft flesh, making you squirm. Everything that was happening made you feel dizzy, the kidnapping, the fear, the kiss that made you melt instantly. His kiss turned more fierce. Hungry. Wanting. Like a man who had been starving for life, he kissed you deeply, hands roaming over your body and bringing you even closer to him no matter how much you tried to push him away. Finally he pulled away, looking at you with his half lidded eyes, high on the feeling. You were breathless, your face flushed hot. The world had stopped for a moment, only for the silence to be broken by a third voice, reminding you both that you weren’t alone.

“I am not sitting here to look at you force another person into doing things with you like some sicko, I draw my line here.” Hawks said.

“I don’t think you got any privilege to draw any lines, after kidnapping said person” Dabi laughed before turning back at you. “Besides.. am I really forcing it? She was enjoying herself, weren’t you babe?”

You shook your head, extinguishing any fire he lit inside of you with his feverish kiss. It was wrong, he is a mass murderer, a villain who ordered your kidnapping. You were afraid of putting resistance, because you didn’t have 9 lives.

And yet you acted like you had some. Without thinking twice you took the opportunity of them chatting to actually kick Dabi in the chest as hard as you could, before standing up and running away. The villain backed off with a grunt, cursing through his teeth, before his hands lit with blue flames and chased after you, making a hit for your legs to stop you from running. He let out a maniacal laugh as he saw you falling to the ground with a scream, the back of your legs burned just enough to prevent you from moving, scorching heat torturing you slowly. Dabi stepped closer, his hand warming up once again, excited to burn you to other places, before a sharp feather slipped right in, not letting him get any closer to you.

“If you continue this any longer I won’t just sit here and watch.” Hawks yelled, his eyes burning with rage and guilt gnawing at his chest at the situation he put you in.

Dabi simply wrapped his hand around the feather, before setting it ablaze.

“I agree, you can’t just sit here and watch” he rolled his eyes, reaching to pull you forcefully by your hair. “If I was in a better mood, I’d let you join us, Hawks. But this feisty thing right here decided to be bratty, and I’ll take my sweet time to punish her properly”

You shook your head, crying in despair. “N-No please..!”

He pushed your head to the ground, with his boot. Smashing it right on the cold surface, dirtying your face with his filthy boot, your hands grabbed at his foot desperately, screaming for him to stop.

“I hope I didn’t ruin that pretty face too much, it’s the reason I wanted you after all” he talked casually, as if he wasn’t suffocating you with his boot. His hand reached the back of your thighs, trailing up to grab at the soft flesh of your ass. “..or.. one of the reasons.”

Hawks was gone, flied away, no desire to witness such scene with his own two eyes. He swore he’d save you, but what was the point of that when you’d be traumatised for life? All because of him, he could never live knowing he did that to you, he’d rather not see it either.

He couldn’t see the way Dabi handled you right there on the ground, roughly gripping at your skin as he pulled you ass up, his boot gone from your face and replaced with his hand. He tore off your clothes, the cold breeze giving you goosebumps, but nothing could soothe the nasty burns on your legs.

“That’ll teach your bratty ass to behave.” Dabi said sternly, bringing his other hand to slap your ass hard, the sting of it had you gasp for air. You cried loudly, hoping that someone could hear you and help you, but the area was empty. How could anyone help you when even the number two hero couldn’t? Flying away like a coward, leaving you in the hands of the monster.

“M’sorry.. I-I’m so sorry!” you whimpered, hoping he’d show you mercy. Little did you know that he was a sadist, seeing you crying, screaming and groveling like that heightened his arousal. Oh, he would have so much fun with you, his perfect little doll. His hungry eyes wandered behind you, focusing on the little heaven between your legs, slippery folds glistening, a meal ready to be savoured.

“Let’s check if you’re as tasty as you look” Dabi whispered, before leaning down to lick a long stripe on your pussy, his eyes rolling back as he tasted you. A sharp gasp eacaped your mouth, his warm tongue playing with your folds before focusing on your clit, licking and sucking it. Your legs trembled, toes clenched as you breathed in short gasps, fear mixed with extreme pleasure as he devoured you.

“So goood..” he growled, sending shivers down your spine. You felt an uncomfortable knot forming at your core, ready to explode at any time, but just when it was getting close, he pulled away with a loud pop, leaving you there breathless.

“Fuck..your flavour. Damn it. Barely stopped myself there.” he chuckled, licking his lips and giving your cunt a rough slap. “But you don’t deserve any pleasure tonight, little brat.”

Leaving you on edge had you whining in frustration, your body completely betraying you.

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll eat you out all damn day, until you actually fall in love with me” he whispered in your ear, keeping you bent over as he leaned to press his thick hardened cock right in your entrance. “But now, you might hate me-”

With that he pushed inside of you without a warning, stretching you out completely and taking the air out of your lungs at the burning sensation.

“…and I’m fine with that too.”

He was big, already filling you to the brim as you choked and cried at the pain, barely adjusting to his size. His hand pressed on your face on the hard concrete as he began to move, not wasting any second.

“H-Hurts.. s-stop!”

“Good. It’s meant to hurt.” he grunted, your cunt wrapping tightly around his length making his head spin. His movements were brutal, ruthless as he used you like some fleshlight, focusing on nothing but his own pleasure, no matter how much it hurt you. Your whole body hurt, half naked and bruised, your brain fogging up as the villain fucked you senseless, warm hands gripping your hips that would leave more bruises later. Completely ruined and defiled, you stopped struggling, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the nightmare to end, hoping he’d stop soon.

Dabi noticed your submission, though he couldn’t help but mock you.

“Mmhmm fuck- What’s wrong? Won’t call for help anymore, sunshine? Who knows, maybe some hero will show up” he laughed cruelly, giving you one deep thrust that had your body jolt. The bitter reminder that because of a hero you were in this situation, had your eyes burning with tears of rage, you could do nothing but scream.

“That’s what I’m talking about, louder.” he encouraged you, his thrusts never stopping as he chased his high. “Maybe somebody will save you- maybe Hawks, yeah? The fucker’s nearby, you want him to save you poor baby? Hah but I doubt he’ll save you when he sees you like this”

He bit his lip at your sight, looking at where the two connected, the way your pussy swallowed every inch of his cock so deliciously, as if it was made for him. “M’sure he’d join the fun instead, though I ain’t the type to share.”

His words made you feel sick and nauseous, if he didn’t stop right there you’d soon throw up. His movements got sloppier, breathing heavier as he clung to your body, rutting into you.

“F-Fuck.. take it.. take it all you slut.” he moaned, white ropes of cum filling you to the brim, some of it leaking down your thighs. It felt disgusting, and as much as you thought of it, you’d have rather died instead.

The villain pulled out with a hiss, looking at the mess he made, the sight of his cum leaking out of your abused hole had him hard as a rock again. He’d surely go for another round, but he’d rather find a more comfortable place instead. He lifted your limp body, holding you in his arms. Your face was a mess, smeared with dirt and dried tears, ruined, and yet you had never looked more beautiful. Dabi admired you in silence as you closed your eyes, passing out instantly in his arms. He couldn’t ignore the excitement in his chest as he was about to introduce you to your new life soon, with him.

*

*

“Fuck” Hawks cursed under his breath, keeping his distance and hiding in one of the abandoned warehouses. He saw Dabi walking off, satisfied, with the poor girl in his arms. His stomach twisted in disgust, Hawks had no idea how he didn’t actually fly away and ended up witnessing the whole thing. Nor did he notice the bulge that had already formed in his pants at the scene.

🏷️ tags: @candycandy00 @shonen-brainrot @doumadono @amethystnightshade @shaygriffen @hunajan @trickster-kat @syrenkitsune @zukowantshishonourback @dabihawksluva

swore i could feel you through the walls | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Dabi knows that he can’t leave you now. You belong to him, and he belongs to you, and the stars knew before either of you did. And Dabi can’t argue with fate, or destiny, or pure dumb luck, not that he wants to. He pulls your comforter up over his body. He’ll be here when you come home to him. In a place made for staying, Dabi thinks he will.

Notes: hiiiiii so this is an idea that has been bouncing around my head for like. Literal years ajsjsjsjs It’s always kind of been more of a horror idea and then I fanficified it and now it’s this! This was kind of a process and I rewrote and replanned and went over this over and over again but I think it is at a place that I am mildly happy with. It’s a completely ridiculous idea and I’m honestly a little insecure about it but fuck it!! Thanks for reading hope u enjoy<3 (title from Chinese satellite by Phoebe bridgers) listen to the playlist here!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader, explicit content, yandere!dabi, stalking, Dabi hides in readers house without her knowledge, some paranoia, psychological abuse, slight yandere!reader, mentions of somnophillia but no actual instances of it, violence, non-consensual voyeurism (Dabi watches reader masturbate), unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, marking, biting (shoulder, neck), painplay, one mention of carving names into skin with no instance of it, mentions of blood (reader bites dabi’s neck and draws blood), use of good girl, mutual obsession

Words: 9.3k

He can’t breathe. 

Dabi runs from the low-ranked hero, surprisingly fast on his tail as the distance between the two becomes smaller and smaller. With his lungs burning, his skin irritated from quirk use, and the lack of help from his peers, Dabi realizes that he needs to find a way to lose the ice quirk user that is quickly gaining on him. 

Turning down a narrow alleyway, he’s disappointed to find that it’s a dead end. He pauses to catch his breath, keeping himself tucked tightly against the shadowy wall. Dabi surveys his surroundings, finding nothing but garbage before he looks up. He’s against an apartment building, he realizes, looking at the lights in the windows above him. 

All windows are lit except one.

Dabi doesn’t have the time to wonder about the owner, shaking his head and forcing himself up the fire escape, preparing himself to use his quirk if it comes down to it. He breaks the lock on the darkened window and shuffles inside. He falls over a stack of books that sits underneath the window, freezing on the floor as he listens for any movement throughout the walls. When he hears nothing, he stands from the floor and closes the window, creeping down the hall in search of the other rooms. There’s one bathroom and a bedroom with no one inside, and relief rushes over Dabi as he feels his shoulders relax.

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tainted angel 🪽 MASTERLIST

ෆ pairing: Dabi x Hawks’ little sister

ෆ Synopsis: While stalking Hawks and trying to find out more information about him, Dabi comes across his little sister, a sweet angelic thing that welcomes him inside her house with a bright smile on her face. Dabi can’t help but get obsessed over her, the sudden urge to make her his takes over him entirely, maybe to have Hawks under his control while he enjoys his little sister, or maybe he really does like her. Nevertheless, she does not know the danger she just involved herself in, nor does she know that her brother’s handsome “friend” is in fact a dangerous villain who has sick twisted intentions.

ෆ cw‼️: smut, yandere themes, corruption kink, dubcon/noncon, mixed feelings, Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, stalking,

ෆ A/N please read before going further: This multichapter fic is written in Dabi’s POV mostly, it’s written in first person. You will come across Dabi’s thoughts and feelings, how he perceives things. He calls Keigo’s sister “angel” instead of the famous Y/N label, so I’ll be calling her angel too. Sometimes I include angel’s POV too (which you can totally insert yourself and imagine being her. As I write this fic I also imagine myself being the sister as well). Due to her being Keigo’s sister she might have specific descriptions such as hair color, eye color, skin, wings etc.

CHAPTER 1

During a boring rainy day of wandering around, Dabi gets a call from the men he hired to get more information on Hawks. They had found his old house, where supposedly his mother lived. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit, not knowing the surprise that was waiting for him: the little angel Hawks used to keep hidden from the public.

CHAPTER 2

Hawks threatens Dabi to not get close to his family, specifically his sister. But Dabi definitely has other plans the moment he got her number, deciding to call her late at night.

CHAPTER 3

Angel continues to secretly interact with Dabi despite Hawks warning her not to. She is entirely captivated by his charm and mysteriousness. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit and leave a small gift.

CHAPTER 4

She finally agrees to meet Dabi behind an alleyway, late at night. They both head to an empty park, where Dabi decides to make a move and savour her. From that moment things get heated up.

CHAPTER 5

Hawks is worried that his sister was out so late at night. He starts doubting her words, wondering if she is even telling the truth. He is not pleased with what he sees once she comes back.

CHAPTER 6

As Dabi refuses to elaborate on who he is and what bad things he has done, angel starts getting more paranoid. Especially knowing that he might’ve possibly entered her house at night or stalked her. As much as she enjoyed his company, she doesn’t feel safe, so she decides to listen to her brother’s warnings and stop talking to Dabi. Though Dabi is anything but pleased with her decision.

CHAPTER 7

She has been keeping watch for a few nights by now, anxiously waiting just in case Dabi decided to appear again, living in constant fear. Strange dreams appear in her sleep, of him being so close to her, touching her body in ways she begs for more. But is this really just a dream?

CHAPTER 8

“You like the danger don’t cha?” Dabi smirks. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”

CHAPTER 9

Time for a real date. Giving Dabi another chance, she again lets herself swim in dangerous waters, though this time she won’t come back unscathed

CHAPTER 10

Giving in to the temptation and burning desire that could no longer be contained, she finally lets her body and soul into Dabi’s hands.

.

.

Divider credits @cafekitsune

🏷️current tags on this fic: @mostlyheinous @dabihawksluva @scariusaquarius @syrenkitsune @touyalove @awalkingshame @dabislittlebeaniebaby @madsttx @cr-33-d , if you want to be added in the taglist and get notified when a new chapter drops, let me know!

Spades

Dabi x reader Part Two of Russian Roulette 6.6k words Noncon, Stalking, Kidnapping, praise kink, fear kink, possessive Dabi

Dabi can't seem to forget about you, and he doesn't understand why. The very thought of you angers and confuses him, though soon his irritation with you morphs into something more dangerous. You have no idea how much further your life is about to become entangled with his own.

Dabi doesn’t know why he comes back after the last time, or why he continues to watch you. In his mind, he already got what he wanted. Your fear, your submission, was laid out so deliciously in front of him for the taking. 

He should have felt satisfied. He did at first, he supposes. And yet, he finds himself coming back, continuing to watch you. The thoughts of you still dominate his thoughts, consuming him, and distracting him from his goals. 

Soon enough he climbs in through your window yet again, while you're at work. You didn’t go to the police or the heroes after he broke in last time, probably out of fear he muses, but you were at least smart enough to place new locks throughout the place. That of course didn’t work, the lock on the window melting easily under the heat of Dabi’s hand. Whether or not you notice this, he doesn’t care. What would you even do to stop him?

He snoops around through your home as much as he pleases, again not caring in the slightest if you notice anything out of place. He’s curious as to what he can find out about you, though to what end he doesn’t quite understand. 

Eventually, he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed, the wooden frame creaking under him, the only sound resonating in the room. He looks around at the four walls of your bedroom, taking mental notes of your decorating choices, and your sparse furniture.

He still doesn’t know what to make of you, to his growing frustration.

Leaning back against the soft covers and pillows, he sighs, almost agitatedly. He brings a hand up to the pillow near his head, thumbing the soft, silky flange edge of it. Bringing the pillow to his face, he inhales deeply, taking in your scent. The smell brings back the memory of how soft your skin felt against his, the delightful and fearful noises you made underneath him. His cock twitches in his pants at the mental image, getting hard as he reminisces.  

He debates doing something about the growing tightness in his pants before simply saying, ”Fuck it.” As he deftly undoes his pants and palms his erection. The thought of how you would react to him touching himself in your bed, to the depravity of the act he’s committing while you’re not home, is what really gets him going. 

The thought of you possibly walking in, seeing the villain in your room, and the fear that would be in your eyes, has him groaning as a thick bead of precum runs down the head of his cock. He thumbs the bead, running his hand over the slit as he hisses in pleasure, his mind racing. 

He continues to thrust up into his hand fervently at the thought of you, how warm you felt around him, how addicting your fear and submission were. He thinks about taking you again, what he’d do next time. The ideas run through his head as he gets closer and closer to the edge. 

Dabi thinks of your soft body and your pupils blown wide with a mix of fear and pleasure, as he closes his eyes and pretends it's you he’s thrusting up into right now, imagining how you would clench around his cock. The sounds of your moans replay over and over in his mind. He imagines you begging for him, begging for him to fuck you, for him to not fuck you. 

Within minutes, he’s spilling all over his hand as he reaches his climax. 

He tucks himself messily back inside his pants, still not feeling satisfied. If anything, he’s feeling even more frustrated, even more angry. He can’t afford to have distractions like this, and he doesn’t like having some insignificant person consume his mind like this. He’s already gotten what he wanted from you, so why is he here? 

Shigaraki and the rest of the League have started to take notice of the fact that his mind has been elsewhere as of late, and they’ve noticed his increasing absences as well, though they couldn’t have any ideas as to why. If only they knew.

He realizes he’s still gripping your pillow with one hand as he grits his teeth in frustration. He heats his hand, scorching and burning the fabric edge of the pillow, the smell of burnt cotton wafting through the air. Let you see this, see the evidence of his presence in your home. He hopes you notice, hoping it ignites more fear in you. It’s what you deserve for the increasingly suffocating hold you have over his mind.

Standing up lazily, he redoes his belt. He should be getting back soon, additionally, you’ll be home soon. As much as he would love to take his frustrations out on you right now, he needs to come up with some sort of plan. Something to quell his burning thoughts. Ideas swim around in his head as thinks of what to do next. 

Someone has been in your home. You know Dabi has been watching you still, and the melted lock and scorched pillow make it apparent that he’s been inside as well. Your stomach turns and you shudder as you examine the burnt fabric. He was on your bed if the ruffled and messy duvet cover was any indication. 

Fear rolls over you, making your vision blur and your body tremble as you stand there at the edge of your bed, holding the pillow. You don’t know why you didn’t go to the authorities after he broke in that first time, maybe from fear of retribution or maybe a naively placed hope he would leave you be. You now realize that optimism was false, as your breathing starts to quicken. 

You don’t understand what he wants with you, why does he continue to haunt every corner of your life? He’s in every shadow caught out of the corner of your eye, in every slightly out-of-place object around your home, every unknown number that calls. All innocuous things before, now fill you with anxiety and doubt. 

What does he plan to do to you, it’s obvious he hasn’t forgotten about you, nor is he seemingly keen on leaving you alone. 

You don’t think he’s going to kill you, considering how he didn’t when he had the chance. But then again, maybe he’s toying with you, drawing out as much fear as he can before finishing you off. You don’t know what to expect and it makes your head spin. 

Supposing you can’t do anything to stop him, you drop the pillow back to the bed, sighing tiredly. You could go to the police, you think to yourself. Maybe that’s what you should do, what any sane person would do in this situation. Maybe the heroes could help. You stop that train of thought quickly though, no he would know if you did something like that, and it would surely only serve to further piss him off.

You have no other option than to continue living your life as if you don’t have a villain shadowing your every move. It's a terrifying and oppressive weight on your shoulders. 

Still, yet, you can’t help how your pulse quickens and your thighs press together when you remember that night he woke you. The memory of how he fucked you well and good into your sofa can’t seem to leave your mind. On more than one occasion since then, you’ve found yourself waking up in a sweat, wetness forming between your legs from the dreams replaying the event. When you wake like this you can’t help but wonder if he’s watching you at that moment, if he’s somewhere in your home. You’re often tempted to reach down between your legs and relieve the tension but the idea of his piercing eyes on you stops you from doing so.

It frustrates you to no end, how he invades your mind, his ominous presence constantly weighing on you, even when he couldn’t possibly be watching you. 

In the weeks following, you’ve done your own research into Dabi, reading every news article and watching every news story about the infamous villain. You know he’s possibly tied to a string of murders throughout the area, crime scenes reduced to ash, bodies so badly burnt that dental records are needed to identify the victims. You find yourself reduced to nausea at these stories. 

Your own immunity to fire doesn’t give you any feelings of ease or safety, if anything it makes you feel as if you have a prominent target on your back now. After all, that’s why he first sought you out right? Because you didn’t burn to death when you first encountered him. You shudder remembering the fury he showed as his face twisted into a snarl at that moment when he couldn’t reduce you to cinders like he so obviously wanted to. His anger felt all-consuming, you’ve never seen anything like it before then. You don’t think simply standing up to him at that moment was the crux of his anger, no, while it did certainly anger him, he was pissed because of your quirk. Your very existence was an act of defiance to him. At least that was your latest hypothesis for why he continues to stalk you. 

You don’t even bother to change the smelted lock on the window, if he wants in he’ll just break it again, and then you’ll have evidence of another intrusion, and you don’t think your psyche can handle it. 

Instead, you continue to go about your life as if you’re ignorant to his presence. You keep your head low and act as if nothing is wrong, not doing anything to draw more attention to yourself, and hopefully, nothing to worsen the situation. You continue to catch small signs of his presence, you know he hasn’t left you alone or forgotten about you. 

He hasn’t gone out of his way to approach you again, though, and after a few weeks, you start to wonder if you’re being paranoid. Maybe he has finally left you alone and everything that you think is evidence of his presence is your own fear and anxiety messing with your head. 

No, you remind yourself, he was definitely in your home, that melted lock and burnt pillow were more than enough evidence of that. 

You find yourself going back and forth on this, whether or not he’s really still watching you or whether you're going crazy. Part of you hopes it’s just your anxiety and fear, but another part of you doesn’t like the idea of all this just being in your head. Until one day, you have the undeniable proof he’s still present. 

You’re at work when he makes contact again. You work at some small grocery store in a less favorable part of town. The story is small and kind of shabby, and the produce is overpriced for how subpar quality it is. Not to mention, you think you’ve seen mice in the back before, not that the manager seems to care. You don’t particularly like this job but it pays the bills at the very least.

A new order comes in that day, and you soon find yourself behind the store, hauling crates from the truck with one of the few other employees scheduled that day. He’s a new hire, only having started here a few weeks ago. He’s been nice enough, if not...too nice at times. His overt friendly attitude has veered toward flirtatiousness recently, and you don’t know how to feel about it. Maybe if you didn’t have so much on your mind as of late, you would enjoy the positive attention. 

He’s hardworking at least, and he doesn’t cross the line into making you feel uncomfortable. You do think that regardless, he’d make a good friend. 

You attempt to pick up a particularly heavy crate of produce, straining to lift it. 

“Hey, lemme get that, I got it.” Your coworker says, taking the load from you. His hands linger on yours as he grabs it. “Don’t strain yourself.” He says with a wink.

You can’t help but huff a laugh as you thank him. He carries the crate into the back portion of the store, leaving you alone in the alleyway. You go to grab the next box that needs to be taken inside, hoping this one will be easier to carry. Before you can though, your phone vibrates in your pocket. 

Pulling it out to see what it is, your face pales and you almost drop your phone entirely when you see the message across your screen.

[Unknown number]

I don’t like the way he looks at you. Don’t let him touch you again.

There’s no doubt in your mind at all who this is from. Is he watching you right now? Your eyes dart around the area looking for any heavily scarred arsonists who could be looking at you. These alleys seem empty, with not a soul in sight. He must be watching you though, what else could he be referring to? Your heart thumps in your chest so hard you can feel it in your ears. 

Before you can spiral into a panic, your coworker comes back out, ready to grab some more loads. He seems to notice your frightened expression soon enough. 

“Hey is everything alright? You look like you just saw a ghost.” His eyes seemed filled with genuine concern.

You stammer, looking for the right words, you know you can't explain your situation, so instead you’ll have to come up with some excuse. He places a firm hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture, as he asks again if you’re okay.

Aware of the fact that Dabi must be watching right now, his message still replaying in your mind, you remove his hand with your own and attempt to play it off. 

“Oh yeah I’m fine, a rat ran out over my feet as I lifted a box, gave me a real scare.” You say with a humorless chuckle. You don’t know how convincing it may seem but it's all you can come up with right now. 

Luckily, he seems to buy it. “Oh ew, yeah they seem to be frequent flyers whenever we get new orders, huh? The owner doesn’t care about the quality of the places he’s ordering from.” 

He picks up the box in front of you and speaks again, “I can get these last few boxes if you wanna go inside, it’s a slow day and you could use the break.” 

Still shaken up, you agree. As you head inside, your phone buzzes yet again. You check it again with a trembling hand, already knowing who it probably is. 

[Unknown number]

I’ll kill him if he puts his hand on you like that again. I don’t share what’s mine, doll.

If there was any doubt before as to who was texting you, it’s gone now. This is Dabi, without question. The idea that he knows where you work, that he somehow got your number, makes you shiver in fear. He really hadn’t left you alone at all. Your breath quickens as it feels like you can’t get enough oxygen, your throat constricting. 

Your heart beats heavily in your chest, what does he want with you? It was bad enough before, but now he seems to have some notion that he has a claim on you. That no one else could touch you, or make a move on you. This instills both a sense of fear and anger in you. 

In a sudden moment of audacious boldness, you pull up the keyboard on your phone and type back a short message. 

I’m not yours. You don’t own me.

You immediately regret it the moment after you hit ‘send’. You can’t take it back now, and you might only piss him off with your words. You shouldn’t even be engaging with him, he’s one of the most wanted terrorists in Japan, for god's sake. 

Within seconds, your phone vibrates again as he responds to you.

Oh really? We’ll see about that

Dread twists in your gut and your hairs stand on end as you read his reply. What does he mean by that? What is he planning? He’s obviously going to do something if his text is any indication. You regret replying to him at all, you fear you’ve only made things worse by doing so. If there’s one thing you’ve realized about Dabi, it’s that he doesn’t like resistance or anything challenging him.

You choose not to reply again, instead putting away your phone, and distracting your racing mind with work. You feel helpless to do anything to change your current predicament, all you can do is try not to focus on it, otherwise, you might start panicking. You silently pray that everything will turn out okay.

Dabi has been watching you still yet, even at times watching you at work when he could. His obsessive thoughts about you haven’t gone anywhere, you still consume his mind entirely. He doesn’t know why and he doesn’t quite know what he wants to do with you yet. You still frustrate him ceaselessly. He started to think maybe he hated you, for how you’re ever present in his thoughts, but then he saw how your irritating coworker looked at you, how he seemed to take every opportunity he could to touch you. He felt an entirely new form of anger rising in him. 

Whether he continues to toy with you, whether he fucks you again, or whether he decides to kill you, you're his and his alone. He doesn’t know when he started to mentally think of you as ‘his’ but he has and he’ll be damned if someone else will touch what’s rightfully his. The urge to kill the coworker is overwhelmingly strong at the present moment. 

He takes out his current burner phone and sends you a cryptic message as he watches you from the shadows of the twisting alleyways. You’ll probably be wondering how he got your number, once you realize who sent the message. It was all too easy to sneak go through your phone while you slept just a few feet away, as he committed all your most personal information to memory. Your peacefully sleeping face looked so cute and innocent to his presence. 

Judging by the spooked look on your face, you immediately know it was him who sent the text. You look around the alley, searching for any sign of your stalker. You won’t spot him of course, Dabi has had years to learn how to blend into the shadows, the hidden nooks and crannies of winding alleys and dilapidated buildings. 

That annoying pest of a man comes out again, even puts his hand on your shoulder, and Dabi sees red. It takes everything in him to not burn him alive right then. He knows that he needs to act patiently. It won’t do him well to rush things, and he thinks killing someone in front of you might give you the final push to run straight to the authorities, and that would only complicate things further with you. He can kill that annoying man later he supposes. 

He is pleased with how quickly you remove his hand from your shoulder, though. Good, he likes when you do what you’re told. You’re a lot more endearing when you listen without contesting him. 

He sends you another text after he sees you walking inside, wishing he could watch your face as you read it. He still finds your fear absolutely delightful. He’s spent many nights at this point rutting into his hand as he closes his eyes and imagines your frightful expressions. He’s surprised though when his phone chimes as you reply to him, not expecting you to reply at all. 

I’m not yours. You don’t own me.

A scowl forms on his face as a displeased expression forms. He furrows his eyebrows as he considers your words. Of course you’re his, even if you don’t want to be. You were his from the moment you failed to die by his quirk, even if he didn’t think of you as his at the time. Your text irritates him yet again, you have the nerve to preoccupy his thoughts constantly and then to try and deny him. Oh no, that simply won’t do. He’ll show you who you belong to, and he’ll make it really clear so there won’t be any more mistakes or misunderstandings about the matter.  

His hands shake in aggravation as he sends you another response, before pocketing his phone. He lits a cigarette as he walks away, hoping to calm his irate mood. Plans are already starting to come together in his head. 

The rest of your day passes in a haze, as you try to distract yourself from the overwhelming anxiety and fear that’s plaguing your mind. Work is monotonous enough to serve to keep your thoughts preoccupied. You don’t want to focus on any of the things going on in your life right now. You feel as if you’ll break down if you let your fear take hold at this moment.

After work, once you get home, you find something to do around the house, completing every and any chore you can think of, anything to keep you busy. This keeps you distracted well into the evening. 

 Sleep overcomes you easily that night, you’re exhausted and desperate to turn your brain off. 

Your sleep is dreamless and uneventful until you slowly start to come to the sensation of something hot and wet moving between your legs. Consciousness comes to you slowly as you lift your heavy eyelids, and you start to realize you’re not dreaming as you feel hair brushing up against your inner thighs. Your blurry eyes try to focus in the darkened room as you make out the figure in front of you. The first thing you see is a head full of soft black hair as you feel another long wet drag against your cunt. 

You let out a sharp gasp as your hips jolt. Strong hands go to grip you, holding you in place, as Dabi lifts his head to meet your gaze, his eyes piercing straight through you from where he sits between your legs. 

“So you’re awake now? Took you long enough, baby.” He speaks in that same rough voice you remember and he then flattens his tongue against you, taking another long, firm drag. You bite back a noise as you begin to squirm. His hands grip you tighter, keeping you firmly on his face. You can see now that he took your shorts off while you slept, your underwear hooked around one ankle now. He appears to have also taken his own jacket off. 

“W-why?” You’re not sure what question you’re even asking, but in your still hazy state, it's all you seem to be able to manage. 

He lifts his head again, his eyes filled with lust at the moment, and something devious as well. 

“You said weren’t mine, that you don’t belong to me. I’m here to prove you wrong.” He nips at the delicate skin of your inner thigh as he speaks, pulling another noise past your lips. You try to push away from him, but he quickly pins your hips down as he gives you a dangerous look. 

“I won’t hesitate to chain you to this bed if you don’t behave. Do you want that?” He asks darkly, and you fervently shake your head. “Good, I thought so.” 

He moves his mouth back down, working his tongue over your clit as you slowly lose your mind. You can’t help the noises you make as your legs start to tremble in his grasp. He seems to know exactly how to move his tongue against you, the wet squelching of his mouth against you as he eats you out, and your quiet moans are the only noises in the room. 

The pleasure starts to grow, and as you feel the heat building up in your gut, you can’t but grind your hips against him. Your fingers twitch as you look for something to grasp onto and you can’t seem to stop yourself before gripping his hair. Luckily he doesn’t seem to mind, groaning low against your clit as you pull on his hair. His dark hair is surprisingly soft in your hands and every time you yank it, he lets out another low noise. 

Sparks of white start to flash behind your eyelids, as you near your climax. You’re fully grinding against him now, riding his face in earnest as your noises become more desperate. You’re so close and he seems to know it. 

He continues his ministrations for a moment longer, bringing you to the very edge, but before you can come, he pulls away abruptly. 

You feel as if you could cry, your frustrations are obvious, and your cunt aches from the sudden lack of attention. 

“Please, please, I was so close!” You find yourself begging despite your own sense of pride. Your voice is shaky as you whine. You don’t want this, not really, but his mouth felt so good against you. You feel conflicted and torn.

Dabi presses his lips to your inner leg again. “Mhm, as much as I love the sound of you begging like that, I don’t think I’m gonna let you come yet.” He pulls back, smirking at how your lip trembles and the desperation in your eyes.

“That was just to warm you up some, I want you to do something for me first, baby.” 

You look up at him apprehensively as you sniffle. ”...What?” You’re nervous as to what he wants or what he plans to do. If he simply wanted to fuck you, he would. After the thing with the gun last time, you can only imagine what else he would do. 

He grips your waist, pulling you up into a sitting position wordlessly as he sits back on his haunches. Even sitting up, you still have to look up to meet his eyes, his presence still intimidating and frightening as ever. He seems to have a constant dark aura about him.

He looks at you for a moment, leaning back more as he speaks.

“Take off my belt.” It’s a simple yet commanding sentence, his voice husky and low, his tone very obviously leaving no room for debate. It’s not a request, it’s an order.

Not wanting to see what he’ll do if you refuse, you reach for his belt with shaking hands, undoing it quickly as he watches you from above with that intense gaze of his. 

Soon enough, you’re sliding the belt off of him, letting it drop to the bed. Before you can look to him to see what wants you to do now, he speaks.

“Undo my pants next.” You meet his eyes, which are now heavily lidded with desire. You think you know where this is going if your intuition is correct. As you unbutton his pants and pull the zipper down, you can see that he’s straining against his boxers, a spot already forming from precum. 

One of his strong hands goes to grip your hair, as the other reaches to pull his cock free. He’s large and girthy, and the same piercings you remember from last time gleam in the low lighting. 

He pulls you down close to his crotch, forcing you to arch your back for him. A thumb comes to pull at your bottom lip, going to swipe across the tip of your tongue. 

"You ready to open that pretty mouth for me, baby?" He speaks in a low almost murmur as he hooks a finger in your mouth. “I said before that you were a natural cockwhore, I wanna test that out now.” 

His hand pulls you closer to him, the hand on your jaw letting go to hold his cock, the hand in your hair staying firmly put. He brings the tip of it up to your lips. You want to refuse on principle but he’s obviously not going to take no for an answer. He smears precum across your lips, before firmly tapping your cheek.

 “And don’t even think about biting, I’ll snap your pretty little neck so fast.” He looks at you with an intensity that has your breath nearly catching in your throat, and his eyes bore down into yours. You frown slightly, you weren’t that stupid to piss off the murderer situated above you. 

“I wasn’t going to,” You speak in a quiet but firm voice, your own boldness surprising you as you continue, “I was actually thinking what kind of freak gets his dick pierced.” 

Dabi barks out a sudden and rough laugh at your words. “Yeah I’m a sick freak, but you already knew that about me, doll.” The hand in your hair tightens considerably as he presses the head of his cock to your lips again, his voice dropping into something dangerous. “Now suck.” 

You decide against making any other smart remarks, instead opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out experimentally, giving the tip a small lick. 

“Just like that, baby.” He says in a throaty voice as he pushes the head of his cock past your lips, forcing you to open wider. His precum is salty on your tongue, and you wrap your lips around him tight. Your hands go to the tops of his thighs to steady yourself, as you take another inch of his length into your mouth. Both his hands tangle into your hair as he uses his hold on you to thrust into you slowly, letting you get accustomed to his size. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” He groans above you, and his praise has your stomach fluttering. You start to work your tongue on the underside of his shaft, the metal piercings giving it such an unusual feeling, and you begin to suck in earnest as he throws his head back. “Oh, you’re so fucking good, so good for me.” 

He starts to thrust into your mouth more roughly, the tip of his cock poking the back of your throat as you try not to gag. 

“Shhh, shhh, just breath, relax your throat.” One of his hands goes to massage the side of your jaw as he coaxes you into taking more, forcing his full length down your throat. You can’t breathe, but before you can truly panic he pulls back momentarily, giving you a second to inhale through your nose.

Then, he thrusts back in pulling your face flush with his groin, your nose burying in his curly pubes, which you now notice are white, unlike the dark hair on his head. He holds you there for a few moments before the lack of oxygen starts to make your vision blur. 

He continues to fuck your throat like this, forcing you to relax and take it as he moans lowly. You can tell he’s starting to get close as he picks up the pace, fucking your face faster and letting out a litany of swears jumbled with more praise. 

The hands on your face start to heat up against your skin and you can see as small sparks of blue flames start to dance up his wrists, the smell of smoke increasing. The small flames start to encompass your head as he holds you tightly, but they do nothing but roll across your skin harmlessly. 

You hollow your cheeks as best you can, swallowing around his cock as he exclaims, “Fuck, fuck I’m coming!” As he pushes his cock into your throat as far as it’ll go, forcing you to swallow every bit. He holds you in place for several moments as you take every salty pump, as your eyes start to water. 

After he’s spent, he pulls out with a pop, drool is now running down your chin, your throat sore and battered. 

He tilts your chin up, meeting your tear-filled eyes. His expression is still filled with desire, his eyes looking hazy from his orgasm. “Oh, you did so good baby, look at you, swallowed every single drop.” His thumb runs across your bottom lip and you see his cock twitch in interest again. Of course he wouldn’t be done with you yet. 

Dabi pulls you up from where had you bent down, pulling you closer to him. You begin to struggle against him yet again, and he’s quick to pull your hair, hard. 

“I told ya I would chain you to this bed if you didn’t behave, do I need to pull out the cuffs?” You’re not surprised he brought handcuffs, not in the least bit, but you don’t want him using them on you, so you quickly quit struggling at the threat. 

Dabi would like very much actually to use the cuffs, but he likes when you’re being obedient for him. He’ll have plenty of time to use them later anyways. Just the mental image of you tied up under him is enough to start getting him hard again. 

“Let's take this shirt off, baby.” He says in that gravelly voice as he pulls the fabric up over your head, leaving you exposed. Your hands immediately go to cover your chest but he quickly grips your wrists, using his hold on you to press you down into the mattress. He leans into your prone body, his teeth nipping at the skin right below your ear. 

“Besides, you didn’t get to come earlier, it’s your turn now.” One of his hands goes to grip your hips, the other going to his cock as he presses it against your clit, rubbing it up and down your slick folds, the metallic piercings along the shaft rubbing against you pleasurably. 

He continues this motion until you start letting out small moans, even as you try to hide your noises. After a minute of this, he guides the engorged head of his cock to your hole, nearly pressing in. He lavishes your neck with bites, sucking bruises into the skin, as he slowly presses forward into you. You clench around him and he groans.

“Relax, baby, relax. ‘S not gonna hurt, I’ll make you feel good.” He thrusts forward another inch, and as he slowly begins to fuck the small passage your body has granted him, you whimper out. 

He slowly begins to fuck you open, with each forward movement of his hips he pushes in another inch, until he has almost his entire cock moving in and out at a languid pace. Already having come earlier, he seems content to take his time with you, humping into you lazily. He keeps his body pressed close to yours and the hand that isn’t gripping your hip comes to wrap around your head, keeping you tightly pressed to him. 

You let out gasping moans as those piercings rub against your innermost wall. “Dabi..”

“Fuck, keep saying my name just like that.” His cock thumps against your womb now as he moves his hips more deeply. “You’re mine, doll, you’re all mine. You belong to me.” He says it like a chant, a prayer. Words continue to fall from his lips like flames as he grinds his hips into you.

“N-no, no.” You don’t like this claim of ownership over you, you don’t want him to see you as someone to possess, but you struggle to get the words out between your breathless moans and whimpers. He chuckles quietly at your protests, as he presses his mouth to your jawline, panting into your ear as he speaks again.

“No? You really don’t understand, huh?” His hips are slapping against yours now, the bed creaking under you two with every movement. You’re pressed chest to chest as he looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with something terrifying and wild. Whatever obsession he had with initially, it’s warped into something dangerous. “You were made to be mine, feel how perfectly my cock fits inside you?” He punctuations his sentence with a rough thrust, causing you to let out a high-pitched keening noise. “Even your quirk is another sign you were made for me. You belong to me.” 

The strong arms around you heat up as he fucks you into the mattress, the headboard knocking against the wall. He pushes in closer to you, pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. His teeth clank against yours and he bites your lips, nearly hard enough to draw blood. It’s a rough and possessive kiss, and he doesn’t let up until your head starts to spin, seeming to want to steal the very air from your lungs. He’ll take everything you have and more, because he truly believes you made give him everything, even your own self.

 He makes a circular motion with his hips, the tip of his cock rolling over your cervix. “Only I can fuck you like this, only I can make you feel this good. You know you like this.” 

A particular thrust has you crying out as you shake under him, and he makes it his mission to hit that exact same spot with every movement. “You feel so good when you clench on my cock like that. Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.” 

Electricity races up your spine with every roll of his hips, and you can’t help but cling to him. He reaches down between the two of you and begins to rub at the spot that’ll push you over the edge. “Come on my cock, baby, come for me.” He all but growls in your ear. Within moments you found yourself orgasming hard, as he continues to fuck you through it. He curses as you clench around him and with several battering thrusts, he pushes in as deep as he can, pumping you full of his cum. “Fucking take it, take my cum. That’s it, baby.” His cock twitches inside you as he releases, collapsing on top of you. 

He continues to lie on top of you for a few moments, his arms holding you tight as his softening cock slips out. After a minute he pulls himself up, looking down at your sweaty and exhausted body, your tired expression. “Wait here.” He says simply, getting up and redoing his pants. He exits your bedroom, feet padding on down the hall as he disappears. 

He returns a few minutes later, with a warm rag, and a glass of water. He cleans you up wordlessly before making you sit up despite how sore your body is, and hands you the glass, along with some pills.

You eye the capsules suspiciously, as you turn to him and frown. “What’s this?”  

He rolls his eyes at your apprehensiveness. ”It’s not poison, it’s so ya don’t get pregnant. I’ve snooped enough to know you’re not on any birth control.” 

Still frowning, you hesitate. He didn’t seem to care last time whether or not he got you knocked up. He seems to sense your wariness and grows impatient. 

 “Just take the damn pills already, if I wanted to kill you I could do a lot better than some fake medicine.” You suppose that’s true. Not wanting to anger him, you swallow the pills, downing the water afterward. He watches you closely as you do so, making sure you actually swallow them. 

“Good, now get some rest.” You feel yourself getting a lot sleepier than you initially felt, your eyes growing heavy. Within minutes you’re out. 

Dabi redresses you nimbly, making sure you’re truly knocked out before lifting you up into his arms. What a sweet thing, you were still so naive and trusting. He starts to carry you towards the door. You were his and you weren’t ever getting away from him. 

A/N: Sooo part three mayhaps? Thanks for reading!

A "Nonstop Nut November 2022" Production

Pairing: Vampire!Dabi x Reader

Warnings: Dubcon/noncon themes, “sacrificial lamb” scenario + fear play, vampire feeding + bloodplay, aphrodisiac usage, mind break, injury + pain play, (slight!) bondage, dom/sub dynamics, cucking (indirectly), (forced!) voyeurism, pet name usage, humiliation, light! description of death + murder (twice)

Summary: Years after a great war breaks out between your homeland and another nearby kingdom, your father has died in battle, and your family has been displaced from the village you used to call home. The village you find yourselves relocated to is shady, the people in it even moreso, and you struggle to maintain good faith about staying here – especially after you start to witness your younger, adopted sister making friends, and these other girls gradually start to vanish. You’re certain the townspeople are keeping something from you, but your mother refuses to acknowledge your fears, saying you’re ridiculous, paranoid, too young to understand anything – until a priest from the village comes to your home and sits your mother down to ask something of her, something that shocks you to your core. The priest wants your sister, the sweet soul who was recently promised to a boy from your homeland, only just having reached her seventeenth summer, and having just become a woman. Disgusted, afraid, and absolutely revolted when your mother agrees, however much she wavered, you insist the priest takes you instead, going so far as to promise that you will do whatever he wants of you. And when you’re dragged from your home without so much a second of hesitation from your mother, you’re delivered to a stone slab outside the village, where you’re roped up and offered to some kind of demon as a sacrifice. A vampire who goes by the name Dabi.

A little girl stares up at you with delighted, innocent eyes, and you can’t help but grin down at her pretty face, her pale flesh alight with the midday sun filtering in through the leaves above you.

She reminds you of warm summers, of the safety you always felt in your father’s arms at her age, and you can’t help the way your heart aches and yearns to feel that way again; you’ll never re-experience your youth, so you feel you can settle for watching the youngster experience hers, for holding her hand and walking with her through the woods. This much, you’re happy to do.

“Will mama like this one?” the little girl asks you as she holds up a wildflower, pink and slightly wilted, its stem crushed from the force of her little hands on its delicate green length. You don’t have the heart to tell her that mama would probably throw it out, so you nod.

“I think it’s very pretty.”And then you smile, and she giggles, as you say, “Just like you are.”

“Would you… like to have it?” she asks you, and you nod eagerly.

“Of course – but isn’t it for mama?”

She shrugs her little shoulders, and her eight-year-old form looks even smaller as she looks down at her feet, poking out beneath the layers of her skirts, and she says, “Mama doesn’t need to know I gave it to you.”

Your heart yearns for her youthful innocence, your sister’s kindness overwhelms you tremendously, and you make to kneel before her with a tender look on your face, holding your hands out to take hers as you softly say, “You’re a sweet little thing, you know that? I’m lucky you’re my little sister.”

She giggles, nods cutely, and reaches a hand up to stroke your cheek as she says, “You’re sweet, too. That’s why this flower should be for you.”

“Oh, Eri,” you say softly, and the ache in your heart swells and pounds in your chest as you let out a soft, broken chuckle, “Thank you.”

The little joyful thing she is, Eri tucks the flower behind your ear, her hands warm and her kindness lighting a fire within you. You would always look into her eyes as she smiled at you and see someone else’s child, the baby that had been left on your home’s doorstep one night and raised thereafter as your mother’s, but now you see her eyes glowing with something familiar, something you used to think was rare and not meant for you; Eri smiles at you with love.

Your arms wrap around her little shoulders to hug her lovingly without consulting you about the motion, but you’re glad they do, and you hold her there for a minute. She hugs you back with weak arms, but you’re happy to be in her embrace. You’re happy to embrace her as your family.

It’s as a warm tear slides down your cheek that you break from her embrace and clear your throat to whisper, “Let’s go back home, Eri. Mama must be worried, hmm?”

“Wait!” she presses, and you pause before straightening up, while Eri reaches for your hair – and you nearly start to cry as she slips the flower in her hand behind your ear, giggling adorably as she looks at it and says, “There – all done.”

The journey home is filled with elated giggles from Eri as you tell her stories about other little girls, fictional ones that walked this same path to grandma’s house only to grapple with wolves, to share porridge with bears, to enter homes made of delightful, rare candies and lived-in by an ugly witch. The autumn leaves fall around you, and the smells of the woodsy wonderland around you fill you with elation as you watch Eri skip around and smile, the beauty of her youthfulness filling you with elation in turn.

That elation doesn’t last past the moment you step into your home.

Your mother, usually a proud and self-assured woman who stands with her back straight and her chin held high, her entire body buzzing with confidence and positivity, is slumped over a table and weeping, a letter grasped in one hand. Eri sees this scene and nearly runs forward to hold your mother herself, but you stop her with a hand on her shoulder and whisper a soft, “No, let me.”

You approach her slowly while Eri backs her way toward the next room, and your mother’s sobbing makes your heart ache as you take a seat beside her.

“Mama,” you whisper, reaching for her hand, “What’s happened? Why are you crying?”

She doesn’t hear you, and if she does, she just refuses to acknowledge your questions. You gulp down the bubbling fear, the growing anxiety, that builds its way up your throat, hot like fire. The letter, you realize as you glance at it from your seat, is marked with the local militia’s seal. Your father, the only man who has ever meant anything to you, had left home when he was conscripted into the army.

“Mama,” you whisper, but it comes out scratchy, distressed, “Mama, where’s Papa? What’s happened to him?”

Still, not a word. Your vision becomes steadily more bleary as you stare at the flimsy piece of paper under your mother’s hand, and as you hiccup, the realization hits you hard and dread sets in. You reach for it, slowly, and as you do, you fight the desire to claw at your throat and scream at the top of your lungs. It’s a thick letter, writing scrawled on paper that is unrefined, rough. The script is nigh close to illegible, but you can make out enough of it to fuel the tears that pour from your eyes next.

Your father is dead, and your family will be forced to relocate to a village south of the kingdom border for the purpose of safety.

"Eight years," you say with a scowl on your face as you tend the kitchen, kneading the dough you'd prepared for dinner as your mother watches from the doorway. "It's been eight, almost nine, years of just you, and me, and Eri, all of us suffering – and you're still mourning, Mama, you've been mourning since the day the letter came."

She stares blankly at your hands, at the motions you make as you press into the dough, fingers between bits that poke out and protrude before you pull them back and do it all again. She just waits, wordlessly, for something. For what, you don't know. You scoff, though, as she just blinks away your concerns.

"When are you going to be a mother again?" you ask her this seriously, with eight years of resentment behind your (e/c) eyes aimed right at her, and she doesn't react at all. "I'm sick of being the only one who cares for her – she's a child, Mama, and she needs you as much as she needs me. More, in fact!"

As much as you wish she'd say something, anything, she just watches you knead the dough, and you sigh. It's disgusting, really, that she forces you to do so much and simply watches like an onlooker. You raise her child, care for yourself, tend the gardens and the livestock – and she watches, she attends the local church on weekends like she's expected to. But no more than that.

"Eri received a letter yesterday," you finally say with a soft sigh, "from that family we knew… before Papa…"

She doesn't stir, you don't know why you still expect her to.

"Kota has asked for her hand, Mama," you say. "He wants to marry her, and she… wants to marry him – so I've sent word that we'd be happy to allow him to court her."

You think, for a moment, that you hear your mother gasp. But she just lets out a sneeze, and you sigh. Of course, she didn't even care about that announcement. Why would she?

The town bell rings, then, a sound you're all too familiar with, and in robotic fashion your mother moves to grab her shawl from the dining table, and you watch her make her way out of your home without a word. She has never given up on religion – you suppose you should be grateful, but if anything the knowledge fills you with resentment.

It's when she returns, with strange men and women at her side, when she thinks you're asleep but really you're just sat at Eri's bedside watching her breathe slow and steady so that you feel alive, that the past eight years of trying to keep your family safe come crashing down in your lap and you can do absolutely nothing to pick up the pieces.

"We need Eri," a voice, hushed in the dead of night, says to your mother in the main hall, "a sacrifice must be made for the safety of our townsfolk."

It's strange, watching the eight years of your life you'd spent in the run-down village of suspicious men and quaint women trickle down the drain all at once with one painful realisation – strange, but not altogether unwelcome. You'd felt disappointment before, felt your hope and your optimism gripped within your chest and crushed all at once, and this was not the same.

No, it didn't hurt nearly as much to walk in and interrupt the awful conversation taking place in your own home as it did when your father had died in the war and left your family with no choice but to relocate here. It didn't hurt nearly as much as when your mother decided she would no longer be a mother to you, nor to your sister. Frankly speaking, it didn't hurt nearly as much as you felt it should've.

"You can't have her," you say softly, smoothly. With a shake of your head and a warning glare at your blank-faced mother, you go on, "You can't have her for your disgusting ritual – she's betrothed, she has a life ahead of her, and I won't have it. You can have me."

"You must understand, we need someone young and supple, or the One will not take her," the village priest says to you, his eyes as old and evil as he himself. "It must be a vir–"

"Me, or no one," you insist, scowling. You can feel spittle flying from the cavern of your mouth as you say, "Me, or there is no ritual – because I will burn your godforsaken church to the ground while you pray in it if you lay a single finger on my sister."

You watch the old man gulp, the bob of his Adam's apple in his throat giving away his fear of you suddenly, and in his cowardice you see the look of the stupid baker boy, the look of this priest's own pathetic son, as stupid and as easy to manipulate as he himself. And then as he nods and accepts your bargain, you feel a weight fall off your shoulders.

Your sister will be safe if you do this. You're certain of it, certain that the village will back off of her and pick off her friends instead – the way they had done before. Your mother always called you crazy, but as you lock eyes with her once more and for the first time in years she shows a sign of emotion, you see it in her old face.

You've never been crazy. Always been right. There truly was something off about this village.

The priest's hands clasp around yours before you can even think to speak to your mother, and when you avert your eyes from her to see him, he's grinning like a madman at you, teeth on display in a sickly Cheshire cat smile. You can tell, just that easily, that you're in for something awful, a kind of fate reserved for those who deserve no more than to be punished, truly.

"Your sacrifice will not be forgotten," the old man says, and you have a feeling he isn't speaking to you at that moment – rather, his words are aimed at your mother.

"Blessed be the fruit!" one of his goons, a woman in the corner whom you recognise as the mother of a missing girl, yells excitedly.

"May the One guide us!" the rest of the group, in unison, chant thereafter.

Your skin is clammy and cold as you're finally tugged along, out of your own home and into the dead of the night. The streets are cold, and the lamps guide you down a path toward the outskirts of town. And as you step, more and more townsfolk join in the parade, parents and elders all chanting their stupid ritualistic babble into the night until you finally come upon your destination at the center of the cornfield.

"May the One guide your soul to heaven above," the priest finally says as he takes a step aside and gives you a view of what stands before you, "and may He proffer the fruits of His mercy and grace to the Earth below."

With a gulp and a frightened but brave step forward, you approach the stone slab laid out at the centre of the field, and you in your night dress finally accept your fate. This is a sacrifice – you wouldn't be going missing, disappearing, mysteriously vanishing, never to be seen again. You will be dying, all for the pathetic beliefs of this town's mad religion.

You're still processing your fate when your hands are bound before you, and you simply follow blindly as you are dragged toward the slab, laid down on your back atop its cold surface by the men who'd thought to grab you first. There's no use in fighting it – not when the alternative would be your sister in your position. No, you'd rather it be you.

You watch, with teary eyes and in absolute silence as the chanting townsfolk take to tying your bindings down to the hooks on the slab, rendering you motionless. And you feel the bile rise in your throat as the priest comes upon you, standing dead in the centre of his cult's act of repulsive, blind faith.

"The One will like this one," he states, and his Cheshire cat grin is back as he reaches down to stroke your cheek, "she has some fight in her, that youthful ignorance he so adores."

"The girl is the fruit of our labour! Give thanks to the One!" the cult chants, and your teeth clench as you stare hatefully up at the priest who simply chuckles at your aggression.

"The hour of the One is upon us," he says to you, and you swallow down your hatred as he steps back to announce to his cult, "Let us depart! And let the One have his sacrifice!"

The group silences, and they step into a line to retreat from your body as the priest gives one last yell before you're left alone, roped up in a field with no particular reasoning.

"Blessed be the fruit!"

The tears stream from your eyes, but you barely notice them. You feel numb, feel nothing – at least, that's what you're telling yourself as you shut your eyes.

The feeling of being watched comes suddenly, and it hits you hard as a brick to the face – and it doesn't go away. Really, it m akes your heart race and your eyes shoot open, your body bristling with sudden and overwhelming terror. You don't know when you might've fallen asleep, but it couldn't have been long ago. Regardless, your flesh bristles with fear as you fall into a complete panic.

"Is someone there?" you're not sure why you would bother to yell, why anyone would bother to answer, but if there's a chance you'll be safe, you'll take to desperate bargaining. "If you're out there, please…come and untie me! Please!"

Nothing. Not a sound in return. But you still feel eyes on you as you begin to sweat, the prickling panic filling your pores.

Your arms jolt of their own accord, and you gasp at the sting of rope as it catches on your flesh. You'd forgotten in the rush that you were bound – but that realisation doesn't stop your body from thrashing, because suddenly you're filled with the fear and adrenaline of prey, and you're whimpering for help from someone you're not even sure really exists, not even sure intends to help you rather than harm you.

It's dark, but you're grateful there's an assortment of candles not too burnt out that they can still light up the clearing, especially when you finally hear the snap of a twig in the maze of crops you're surrounded by.

"H-hello?" you whimper out, your voice a squeak and your heart beating in your throat as you struggle against your bindings. "Who's there?"

No response, once again. But this time you feel different – the panic sets in deeper, and fear starts to course through your veins. This doesn't feel normal, and you don't feel the slightest bit safe. Your body is trembling, and your arms struggle more than before to escape your binds – but the knots around the rope are too tight, and no matter how hard you tug, or how hard you pull, you only serve to burn your wrists with the rope.

"Please, just – help me! Help me and… and I'll repay you!" you yell helplessly, feeling your cheeks grow warm and your nose start to run as you sob. Reality sinks in fast, however, when you hear a voice, finally.

It starts with a chuckle. A dark, low chuckle that reverberates through and then fades within the wide openness of the clearing, and your sobs start to get louder in the instinctive fear that cools the blood that runs through your veins, turning icy with terror. You stop struggling against the rope, though, praying that the intruder is kinder than the laugh they'd let out was.

"P-please, help me," you finally whisper, desperate and afraid and hoping for just… an ounce of mercy, pity? You aren't exactly sure.

Instead of a chuckle that reverberates through the clearing, this time you hear a soft laugh, so soft it might be an uneven breath – and the source stands right beside you suddenly, with red eyes aglow and a smirk that tells a devilish tale of intentions no better than those of the priest who'd landed you here.

"The ropes," you whispered, panicked, pathetic, "untie the ropes, please!"

"Why would I do that?"

You aren't sure, honestly, what you had been expecting from a stranger amongst the crop fields – kindness, pity, perhaps just naiveté? – but in the glint of mischief in the darkened eyes of the white-haired man above you, you recognize none of those qualities. Instead, you see yourself in the reflective surfaces of those orb's, you see fear and you see shame.

Had you not volunteered for this fate, had you not been willing to die for your sister before?

As the ropes above your head suddenly fall free from the stone beneath you, albeit still binding your wrists, confusion adds itself to the long list of your emotions in the moment. Was he freeing you? No, not with the smile on his face – really, the wicked way his lips curl upward in the moonlight says you are caught in his web.

But his hands still reach for the ropes at your ankles, still untie the bindings as he scoffs and chuckles at your rigid posture despite the leeway.

"Did you not ask for freedom?" the stranger asks you, and he laughs, "Did you not pray for mercy, for a hand to guide you to safety?"

"Why did you free me?" you whisper, voice hoarse and throat suddenly burning, aching with the aftermath of your yelling before. Shameful.

"To give you a headstart, little rabbit," his lip quirks up evermore, a tilt upwards in a snarky, devilish way as he says, "To give you a chance to survive me."

"What?" – you're confused, rightly so, and he laughs at it before you say, voice hoarse and body trembling from the cool night air that suddenly overcomes you, "Why would I need to run from you?"

Your question doesn't really need a verbal answer, because the moonlight suddenly begins to dim as the clouds pass over above you, a storm brewing as you lay. As the darkness overcomes the clearing, the night sky paints itself with the colours of the witching hour, and the man above you changes before your eyes from man, to something far, far from it.

His hair, stark white before, blackens from the roots. The darkness spreads, shadows taking over his jaw and his under-eyes, a cyan tint in his eyes that makes him evermore menacing – and as he laughs again, his teeth grow and sharpen, catching the glint of lightning as he flashes you a smile. You don't want to chance a look down again once you've already glanced down at his blackening, clawed hands.

The churches preach of demons that stalk the unwary, that prey on the wicked and on the innocent – the sight before you is no different from the image the priests would paint in your head of one before. A particular demon, one your prior village priest had proclaimed himself a hunter of, proudly so. The thing that this village worships, the thing you're sure you were meant to be a sacrifice for.

The One, as the priest had called him.

"You're… a demon!" you sputter helplessly, whimpering in fear, "A-a vampire! Godless and merciless, a monster!"

"You can call me Dabi, if you'd like," the devilish male says to you. And he chuckles as he shrugs, which would be enticing to watch if he wasn't horrifying, "Your priest likes to call me The One – you like that one, hmm?"

He laughs as he watches you roll off of the stone slab, away from him, and listens to the hitch in your breath as you fall to your knees. He can smell the blood the second you scrape one knee against the ground beneath you, and he breathes in your scent delightedly as he ignores your retreating form. You won't get very far, after all.

"Oh, what perfect prey," he chuckles as he stands and waits, silently counting off the seconds.

You reek of dread, of adrenaline and of terror – and he turns his head to chuckle as you stumble, the scent of you wafting off your form heavy and hard.

"What's the matter, doll?" his voice booms across the clearing, and you turn your head in horror at the excited grin that crosses his face, exposing his teeth to your view. "You're fallin' all over the place, like a newborn fawn…"

You gulp, unsure of what you're thinking as you open your mouth to respond with a hushed, frantic, "Please – don't hurt me."

He crosses the distance between your bodies in an instant, and your heart sinks to your diaphragm in realisation before he even speaks another word – you can't escape him, won't escape him, because at that speed he'll have caught you in a single stride. You're hopeless as he clutches the ropes that bind your wrists and gives your limp form a tug.

"Now, now," he tuts, the devilish glint in his eyes unyielding, "I thought you had a little more fight in you, huh?"

"Please, don't –"

"Ah, tut tut tut, doll," he hushes you, a low chuckle reverberating through him as he lifts you, up and up and up until you're dangling before him by his clawed hand gripping the rope around your wrists that dig into your flesh and force cries of pain from your swollen lips, "don't beg – it's unbecoming, hmm?"

"You're hurting me," you whimper, and you'd cry if your eyes weren't already dry enough, "Let me go, it hurts!"

Your body trembles at the sound of his bellowing guffaw as he dangles you higher and higher in the air, so you can barely stand on your tip-toes – and you cry out pathetically the longer you're up there, the pain you're in amplifying by the second.

"That's it," he coos, and you gasp as his other hand goes to caress your cheeks, squeezing your face 'til your lips are mushed together, and you can't make a peep without your sounds being garbled. "That's how you get what you need, doll. Demand it."

You'd spit on his face if you weren't mortified, if you weren't weak and useless under his grasp – as you have this thought, you start to curse yourself inwardly, and he starts to lean in toward your neck. His teeth, sharp and animalistic and ready to tear your flesh, are far too near your throat and far too quickly at that. If only you were stronger, smarter, better —

"Let her go!" a voice, familiar to you but only in the back of your mind, calls out as your assailant presses his lips to your throat, and you cry out as his teeth break skin

A slick, hot liquid seeps down the flesh of your neck before a mass of warmth coated in it trails along your throat, and as the voice repeats its call, the vampire – this Dabi – chuckles, and the sound reverberates through you as the slick substance drips down, down your clavicle and into your skin. His saliva, you realise with horror as he continues to lave away at you with his thick, hot tongue, is what it is.

You want to yell, to stop him, but your limbs become useless quickly as his saliva takes effect on you – vampire venom, after all, is a known aphrodisiac. It's been sold by witches as such for centuries.

A loud thunk resounds through the clearing then, and Dabi drops you carelessly from his grasp, like a sack of potatoes at market, so you hit the ground. Your body aches all over from the fall, but as you watch his head turn to find the source of the noise, of the pebble that you realise had knocked him in the head – and even you're a little shocked by the sight that graces you there, bravely aiming a second pebble at the vampire's head.

"L-leave her alone!" the priest's boy, someone your age and who'd offered you fresh-baked bread rolls free of charge many a hungry night before, yells at your captor – and if he didn't look ready to piss his pants, you might be honoured he'd thought to come to your rescue.

"You've a death wish, then?" Dabi asks the question with a smirk, but his voice betrays his immediate annoyance with the priest's son. He offers you a look, one with a quirked brow and a toothless grin, of amusement and says, "Is this your alternative to death, then? A man with a weak arm and an even weaker bladder?"

Against your will and against your better judgement, his voice in that tone makes your core throb, and your mouth water – you ignore your body's unwanted urges, however, and shake your head. Truth be told, you'd never have picked the baker boy simply out of disdain for his family's closeness to the church, their bloodline defiled by its very existence.

"Get away from here, you monster! Stay away from our home, from our women!" the boy yells, and you yelp as you feel Dabi claw at your bindings once more, tugging you to the epicentre of the clearing once more until you're stood up before the altar.

"You reek of the priest, boy," Dabi sighs before he stands before you, staring down at your face while he scoffs out a soft, "Go back home."

You quiver as clawed hands grip your shoulders, and your flesh burns wherever his darkened, black fingertips and claws trace over the fabric of your white nightgown – from your waist that prickles with delight and gooseflesh, to your breasts where your nipples harden pathetically. Dabi chuckles, dipping down to lave his tongue over your lips without a word of disagreement from you, and he chuckles at your compliance.

"Oh, you're behaving so well for me now," Dabi notes, and he smirks as he runs his clawed fingers down your jaw, "Tell the baker boy to go home."

"Yes…" you sigh, and then your head lolls over to face him and you spit a harsh, "Go home, boy… go home to your stupid father."

"Good girl," he whispers, and your mind is numb and your body is like clay in his hold – mouldable, pliant. "No use fighting when you're already mine."

"No use fighting…" you whisper in agreement, eyes clouding over, and your mouth stays open just enough that Dabi slips his tongue between your teeth and kisses you in a way no one ever has before – it's a slow, passionate dance between his lips against your own, and his tongue adventuring round the cavern of your mouth, all while his clawed hands grasp and mould around every part of you that he can touch.

The baker watches in horror, falling to his knees as he hears you moan and whimper in this monster's grasp – once, he had begged his father to let him marry you, he had wished he could have you in this way. It aches in every bone of his body to watch you share such a lewd moment with someone who isn't him.

"So you won't go?" Dabi asks, quirks up a brow without even glancing at the boy now, and he laughs. He says a simple, "Fine. Then stay where you are."

It's as a clawed hand tugs your night dress up to your knees that you manage a small, whimpered, "No!" – this makes the boy flinch, and he tries to turn his head in shame, to look away, but his body suddenly feels heavy. His blood weighs more than ever before, and he can't move.

"No?" the vampire chuckles, pressing on and hiking the fabric around your hips, exposing your lower half to the elements and catching the scent of your sweet centre on the wind, "But we're just getting started, doll…"

You gasp, breath catching in your throat as his lips find your neck and hover dangerously over your jugular, and his clawed index finger carefully, softly, traces a path over the mound of your core. You've barely been dosed with his venom, and yet its effects have left you pliant, soaked through – he feels this with a chuckle as he taps his digit to your slit, and immediately his finger is wet with the juices that flow from you like a fresh peach.

"Just getting started, and you're already soaked," Dabi coos against your throat, and then he groans as he sinks his teeth into you.

It should hurt, at the very least like a thousand pinpricks stabbing into the flesh of your throat at once, but each fang sinks into your flesh like a pleasant, orgasmic, featherlight kiss – and you whine like a bitch in heat at the feeling, sinking your fingers into the flesh of his upper arms that dip and flex with every motion he makes for support. You cry out his name, pathetic, and Dabi groans as his fangs part from your bleeding throat so his tongue and his lips can take their place and drink as he bleeds you dry.

It's painful for the priest's boy to watch, and every second wounds his ego more – he can't tell what makes his heart ache more, the way you mewl for the monster, or the way his body prickles to life with pleasure at the sound of it.

Dabi's index finger finds the pearly bud of your clit while his tongue laps at your blood and he chuckles into your flesh as you shiver familiarly – like your body's felt him on your skin a thousand times or more, and liked it – at the soft touch he gives it, and then as he retracts his finger so that just his claw taps against the bud you shiver once more. He finds you fascinating, arousing. He smirks.

Next, he dips that same digit a little further down your slit, to trace the shape of the hole of your cunt and just barely offer you relief from the pulsing within your core, from your growing need, and you squirm beneath him, whining. Your fingers falter for a moment in their grip on his arms, and he sighs with delight as you moan for him at the slightest intrusion of his digit within the cavern of your pussy.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" Dabi coos into your throat, "You're a filthy whore, aren't you? Oh… you desperately need me to touch you, don't you?"

The baker boy whimpers pathetically at the sound of it as you cry out a loud, "Oh, please… touch me inside! Dabi, please!"

"You must be so disappointed," Dabi coos at the baker boy, glancing devilishly over his shoulder as he presses a digit inside you, listening to your keening whine in his ear as he continues, "that this isn't you touching her body, that you can't have her like this, hmm?"

"Please… she deserves better than —"

"Shut up," Dabi commands, and the baker boy immediately complies despite the words he desperately wants to say bubbling up inside him. "She's so tight down here, God – and she's so hot inside. The perfect little toy."

You whimper as you arch your back, whine as Dabi lifts you so you're seated on the altar, and keen as he dips a second clawed digit into your cunt, stretching you out and groaning at the feel of you clamping down around him. It's heaven, and he wants to relish in it as he dips his head down to drink from your throat once again.

"Dabi!" you call out his name like you're begging for salvation, and he chuckles at it. He forces your head to loll to the side, your eyes shut but your face in full view of the stupid boy who'd come to your rescue. "Oh, Dabi, please!"

"Look at her," Dabi says with a cackle, licking a lewd stripe up the other side of your neck and sinking his fangs lightly into the supple flesh there, too, "she's begging me for more. This will never be you."

"Please!" You're calling out below him for nothing in particular, just begging at this point to be used the way he wants to use you, and Dabi obliges easily as you lay there and let him drain you of your lifeblood and your willpower, "Dabi, please – 'm yours, so use me! More, more, MORE!"

"God, you probably wish you could bury your pathetic cock deep inside her, don't you?" Dabi chuckles at the priest's boy, unashamedly stretching your cunt open and stepping back to look at his handiwork. "I'm gonna fuck her real good now – and then I'll finish her up, and y'know what I do to 'em when I'm done?"

The priest's boy, in fact, does know the answer to that one. "You'll bury her under the crops," he says, deadpan, "to fertilise them for the rest of the season."

Dabi laughs at that, nodding, "You do know something, huh?" And then he falls silent, glaring at the boy, and says, "Now, be quiet – or I'll kill you first."

You've never been touched before – let alone been fucked. So, when Dabi's thick cock prods at your entrance and then bullies its way into you, even just his tip, it doesn't matter that you're wet – your cunt aches at every inch that he sinks into you until he's sheathed himself inside. His cock is big, and he doesn't make it easy for you to take it.

"Hurts!" you yell, but you whimper out a desperate, "So good!"

Tears slide down your cheeks as the vampire wickedly chuckles down at your confusion, grinding his hips into you so his navel bumps into your clitoris with every single thrust of his cock, and absorbing your hiccups and sobs of pained pleasure with delight in his devilish eyes – and when you whimper out that he needs to be gentler, he barks a laugh into your face.

"Gentle? Don't forget why you're here," he chides you. "You're mine – so take it. Take my cock –" he fucks into you harder and faster, and the slick from your cunt messes all over your thighs as he does, "– like the sacrificial lamb you're supposed to be, without complaining!"

The baker boy sobs as he watches, despite Dabi being able to control his movement. He can't run away, can't avert his eyes – but he cries from watching you, cries from hearing you. And as Dabi turns his devilish eyes to glance at the boy, he tugs you up by your bindings and turns your body to face away from him.

Your back hits the hard, cool surface of his chest as his hand closes around your cheeks, and his cock sheaths itself inside you still. From this angle, the baker boy can see everything – from your cunt, slobbering all over Dabi's girth, to your tits, popping out from the confines of your nightdress with the effort of his harsh fucking.

And from this angle, Dabi has access to all his favourite spots to drink you dry from.

His teeth sink into your shoulder as he fucks his cock into you all over again, and you scream out at the pleasure of it as he hits all the right spots inside you while his lips suckle the red from your body like a lamb from its mother's teat – except this drink is deadly to one of you, and it's not you.

All the while, his eyes cross over your body and lock onto the sad, little baker boy's – and if he could laugh without wasting the delectable, sweet drink on his lips, he might, for the boy looks distraught and broken. Dabi would love nothing more than to make him feel worse. So he does.

He tosses you to the ground and listens to you whine in pain, and laughs as the sound is replaced by the whimpers of someone whose respite was stolen from their grasp, and he cackles as the baker's boy tries desperately to free himself from Dabi's telekinetic hold to save you.

"It's no use, stupid boy," Dabi explains with a smirk as he kneels behind your form, drags your body upward so he can free your flesh from the confines of your tattered, bloodstained nightdress, and he laughs as your naked flesh trembles in the cold of night, and the loss of so much blood that makes you so much paler than you should be. "She'll beg for more, until she dies from the blood loss – and you're stuck where you are, until I loose my grasp on your body. My magic is stronger than your pathetic love for her."

"She's not your toy!"

"And she's not your property, hmm?" Dabi coos, and you mewl as his huge hands cup your breasts and he tugs your body toward him so you lean your back on him, and he angles you so he can lick a stripe up your ribcage before grazing his teeth along the side of your breast, "Unless you paid for her?"

"I… didn't."

Dabi laughs, and you squeak out pathetically as his sharp teeth sink into your breast mercilessly, and the baker boy's eyes water as he watches in fear the way you lose yourself in the vampire's grasp. He knows you won't survive, knows you won't make it til dawn, but a part of him is thick with hope that he, himself, might. Maybe he can outlive your captor, stake his heart and –

Dabi practically moans, and the baker's eyes go wide at the sight of your hand wrapping around the vampire's girth, stroking his cock in his lap and whimpering as you beg him for more of it, for more of him – "Please, just a little more, I'm so close, just give me some more —"

"Greedy," Dabi coos into your flesh, and the baker gulps as he realises just how much blood you must've already lost. "Let's show the priest's boy just how good I can make you feel, then, hmm?"

You're on all fours in a moment, mere inches from the baker boy's face, and he looks on in horror as Dabi's cock slots itself right back between your folds and he fucks into you until you quiver and shake, screaming like a pig at just how good you feel with his venom running through your veins and his length inside you – but his eyes drift between your flesh, draining of colour, and Dabi's, slowly turning more and more… humane, persé.

"So good!" you cry out, "Please, Dabi! Use me more! All of me is yours!"

Your cunt quivers around his thick girth, and Dabi groans out as he fucks you stupid, listening to your noises and your squeals, but watching the stupid boy intently all the while, waiting for the fire in his heart to die. Surely, the boy's courage will waver when he watches you cum? Surely, the boy will realise there is no saving you, and accept that your fate is either death or eternal damnation?

"Stop it," the boy whispers, and his eyes are red as the tears streak down his face, but he has not lost his will to save you – typical, Dabi thinks, as all men of the age seem to believe damsels in distress should be rescued.

"Harder! Dabi… oh, faster!" you cry out, but your voice has weakened and your volume wavers as you yell, and as Dabi leans in close to the skin of your back for another bite, another drink as his cock sinks deeper and deeper into you with every thrust, he catches a whiff of a scent he knows all too well, sitting right beneath your flesh. The scent of disappointment.

"Cum for me," he orders you, as he rests a hand hard on the flesh of your shoulder, and his eyes turn harsher in the sight of the boy before the two of you.

"I-I c-can't…"

The boy can see the reason why, too.

"You're dying," he whispers to you, hoarse and pathetic, "please – make him stop!"

"It's time to cum," Dabi presses, his other hand drifting down to draw soft, slow circles around your clit as your weak arms drop and your form falls to the sandy ground, shivering in the wake of his touch, "don't waste my time."

But you give out one last loud cry, before your breath turns ragged and your chest begins to heave – you have nothing left to give, and Dabi can sense it. He growls out, annoyed, and reaches for your neck the second he unsheathes his cock from you, and speaks in a low, demonic growl.

"Pathetic, weak mortal woman," he chides you, and his eyes return from cyan to red as he speaks, "I was wrong to suspect you'd be able to change anything, to give me any more than the rest – you are as useless as every other sacrificial lamb before you."

"Please," you whisper, voice broken and hoarse, but you've no clue what you're begging for – and he rolls his eyes this time, before he stands up, bringing your pathetic, limp form with him. He carries you like you weigh naught but an ounce.

"You disappointed me," he says to your body, floppy and weak as your eyes flutter shut and your breath grows gradually weaker, as he walks you back to the altar, and the baker's eyes go wide at the threat of what he may watch the vampire do to you. "I had higher hopes for you than for the last few."

"Stop it!" he yells.

"But that's hardly anything new – they always disappoint me," Dabi continues, and your eyes slide shut, fluttering for a moment.

"Don't do it! Not to her!"

Dabi chuckles, and he glances over his shoulder as his hand begins to tighten around your neck, ready to pop your head clean off your shoulders as he says, "What will you do to me if I ignore you, boy? Bake me some bread?"

"I-I'll…" he starts, in retaliation, but nothing comes from his lips but a string of sobs as a crack! fills the clearing. He stares in horror at your corpse, and how the vampire callously disposes of you in two parts, filling a hole with your remains.

"Now," Dabi sighs, dusting off his hands on his shirt as if he's done measly yardwork, as his eyes cross the clearing to offer a glance at the whimpering baker boy, "It's your turn, yes?"

It's been a good four hundred years now, since Dabi felt the draw of a soul that might be able to handle his curse and share it with him, and not once since has he felt the same way. It's been enough time of roaming the world and learning new skills that Dabi has become wary of things he didn't know he would need to, things he never thought about in the old times. He knows about climate change, about Einstein, about the rise and fall of Twitter, and about the declining popularity of Dracula in fiction. But that isn't what intrigues him anymore.

Now, he's in New York, and he's thinking about his next move. A vampire in the city that never sleeps – ironic, isn't it? Dabi, for one, believes it simply must be as he pulls up a seat at the bar and orders himself a bourbon on the rocks.

He knows the city is looking for him, knows that he's been branded a sicko and a serial killer, but he wonders if your ilk have ever considered that he isn't simply a monster; he has to eat, he has to sate himself somehow – and so what if he kills a few of your kind in the process? He's just doing what you humans do with your livestock.

He sips the bourbon, it stings, makes him nauseous. It must be watered down; high quality bourbon never burns, but he could care less as he glances down at his bruised knuckles and the bloodstains on his dress shirt. Any sane person would've turned him away at the bar the moment he sat down – he looks a mess, like he's already been to three pubs and started five bar fights in one night – but this place is run down. It's cheap. They need the customers, and can't afford to turn even the questionable ones down.

"Another," he calls toward the bartender as he tugs the glass to his lips and chugs the liquid down like a chaser, and the barman nods quickly as Dabi watches him, reaches behind him for the bourbon in question, and stands before his questionable patron with the bottle again.

"More ice?" he asks Dabi as he pours the drink, the man who's covered in scars and the marks of the aftermath of his escape from another of his gruesome kills without so much as an ounce of concern at his appearance, and Dabi shakes his head.

"No – I need the bourbon, not the ice," he clarifies, and his cyan eyes burn into the barman's as he says it, offering a sly smirk as he drops enough cash on the counter to pay for another few drinks after this one. He'll be drinking for a while.

"Yessir," his bartender affirms, and without so much as another word, continues to serve him without fail.

Dabi feels curious, watching the youngster work his way around the counter. He's diligent, careful, knows when to stop his customers before they've hit their limits, and the vampire is incredibly fascinated by it. He's never seen a man like this one. And he's seen a lot of men.

The barman has a few distinct features about him – blond hair, fair skin, amber eyes – but perhaps the most notable of these features, to Dabi, is his scent. His smell is inviting, with the same effect on the vampire that a steamy cup of hot chocolate might have on a human, calling him in with sweet notes and a musky undercurrent.

Dabi starts to wonder if this is the one he'll devour next – until the door dings, a new entrant in the pub giggling as she presses her cellphone to her ear and chats away with someone. Her scent wafts through the room, and Dabi can taste it as it curls around him, wraps tendrils around his throat and creeps into his nostrils slowly, teasingly, making him drool and his fangs drip with venom.

It's her that he wants now, and he decides quickly as he chugs down the rest of his bourbon so that the sting accompanies the burning sensation of his unholy gaze on your flesh, and he watches her every move. He watches the way she slings her pretty coat over the back of a barstool, the way she gracefully sits down. He admires every inch of her confidence, because he can tell she works hard to be able to show it off.

She's sweet, too, he can tell from the way she smiles as she speaks to the person she's calling, a real, true people-pleaser. That will come in handy later, if he chooses her. He likes her smile. He likes the way she giggles. God, he loves the way she flexes her fingers across the specials menu and makes an order for something cheap, something to take the edge off the day she's had.

He could take the edge off her just as easily.

He waves the barman over before he has the chance to offer her a card machine to make her payment, and with a charismatic chuckle, he tells the man that her drinks are on him. And then, dramatically, he drops a few more crisp bills on the bar. He's lucky the barman doesn't question the blood spattered on one note, not his intentions with the woman.

He walks over to her with a smirk, devious as he takes the seat beside her this time, and she giggles as she ends her phone call to lock eyes with him. And his eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets as soon as she speaks, when nearly four hundred years worth of memories wash over him like some insane realisation.

"Hello there," she says, enunciating every syllable carefully and grinning like a Cheshire cat, "Dabi."

"So you survived after all," the demon chuckles, reaches for what he now notes is your neck, and caresses the flesh tenderly, warmly, like an age-old lover might. "I never knew – but perhaps I should've, hmm?"

Flashes of memory flicker in his cold eyes, of a midnight he'd arrived in that village to collect his due, another virgin in the dark of night – but instead he'd been greeted by ash and fog, the village burned to a crisp with not one survivor. The bones of the villagers who'd worshipped him so, painstakingly arranged in an eternal freeze-frame of what must've been the most torturous massacre by arson in the time period.

"You really showed them not to play god, didn't you?" he coos, and as his thumb toys with your chin, you grimace.

"They deserved worse than they got from me," you huff, tearing yourself from his grasp, "As did you."

And he chuckles, watches how your (e/c) eyes sparkle with vengeance and your body brims with the blood from a fresh kill pumping through your veins, giving your undead corpse life so that you may present yourself to him that way. It's then that a cocky grin graces his lips and he shows you his fangs.

"I never did get your name."

"You never asked," you spit under your breath, and he sees the way your body gardens with a hostility he admires. "You were otherwise occupied with my body."

"Four hundred years," he sighs, and a playful smirk graces his lips, "and you've just now tracked me down. Has your anger kept you warm through all those winters?"

"Anger?" you scoff, baffled by his nonchalance. You stand, and your eyes burn into his skull as you glare into his turquoise orbs, "Anger has never warmed me – it's only ever been the hope for vengeance that's kept me warm at night, Dabi."

"And the fire," he jests, and you frown tremendously at the statement.

He's not wrong, of course – you can remember waking, the night your body had returned to life with a shuddering gasp, only for every inch of your flesh to burn with an immense desire for vengeance, an immense hatred for the people that had put you in the ground. And after clawing your way out from your grave, you'd risen to exact that vengeance.

You had a list: The priest, the vampire, but most of all, the mother who'd let it happen.

With naught but your hatred to guide your movements, you'd made for the town on wobbly legs. It was dark out, cold, but you paused for nothing in your journey, until you found yourself in the square, and with a lit torch in-hand, you exacted your revenge on the townsfolk, burning them all in their pathetic church, where they were holed up celebrating their fertile land.

You hadn't stopped there, either, not when they'd wronged you so terribly. And not when a thirst, a hunger, overcame you at the scent of blood and flesh.

You'd sought out your mother, the woman who was hiding in a room, praying to the monster that had put you in the ground. You could hear her chanting, her sobbing, her whimpering. It disgusted you, terribly, so much so that you tore through the home you'd once called your own and picked her up with your bare hands and threw her to the floor, screaming into her blanched face and demanding an apology, and when none came…

Her blood had sated your first thirst. Her body burning, your second.

"And," you say, eyes slitted and body hot with anger, as you lock eyes with Dabi, "the fire."

When you reach forward with one hand, grasping onto the vampire's thigh, he barely takes note and scoffs at what he assumes is your promiscuity – you fit in with the modern age, that he believes wholeheartedly, naively. Your form is perfectly complimented by your outfit, by your makeup, by your aura, and you fit perfectly in the little pub.

"What do you say, we get out of here?" you ask him, and he chuckles but fails to note the look on your face, the look of a woman with a plan.

"Sure thing," he says, voice low and sultry. "Wanna redo our last night together, hmm?"

You laugh like he's told you a joke, and you nod, a mischievous smirk gracing your features as you agree – but really, your stomach twists in disgust as flickers of the last night you'd spent with him flit through your vision. Why you would laugh sincerely, why you would agree excitedly, you don't know – and you don't understand why he doesn't even question your lack of hesitance.

"Let's go, hmm?" he suggests.

And he stands up in a moment, reaching out for your hand to tug you along. Just like that, you follow the monster out of the bar. You're patient, letting him lead you down an alleyway and giggling like a little girl as he pushes you against a wall with the strength of five men, so hard your skull beats against brick but you don't flinch at the impact.

"Oh, you wanna play rough?" you tease him as he hikes one of your legs up his side, a hand delving under your skirt, and he nods as he presses warm, well-fed lips into your throat.

"Fuck, yeah," he huffs, and you giggle at the lust that burns primally in his eyes and in his breath as it hits your throat.

"Okay," you coo, and you grin as he retracts his head to stare down at you, your hands tenderly reaching up to grasp his jaw on either side with animalistic claws that lengthen as your eyes shift in colour, glowing neon under the pale moonlight. "Then let's play rough, hmm?"

He smiles down at you, and you can barely believe he's the same man, no, the same demon he was before – but it doesn't matter, not really. Not when your cold heart suddenly beats again with a force like no other, with a purpose like none before.

"You're beautiful," he tells you, and he's serious. And you flinch from the sound of the words rolling so smoothly off his foul, sinful tongue.

You smile, and you mouth an insincere "thank you" before you pull his head to his chest and twist, violently and urgently with the strength only a demon could manage, until you hear the click of his spine from the pure force of the motion. And then you pull, hard and fast, until you hear the rest of his body flop to the ground, and your eyes flick up to the head of the monster that you hold in your hands.

"Four hundred years," you say softly as you eye the cyan orbs that stare lifelessly at you. "I stalked you for four hundred years, Dabi…"

You chuckle, and a relieved tear slips from your eye as you grip onto his hair with your right hand, dropping the head to your side where it dangles pathetically, and you step back to admire the limp pile of limbs that the rest of him has become on the ground underneath you. It's a pathetic sight, seeing the object of four hundred years of rage finally fallen to ruin.

"What perfect prey you were," you say, smiling.

Artfully, you swipe a bloody hand over the spot of your neck where the monster had kissed you, leaving it smeared with the fruit of your vengeance as you giggle, and you walk away leaving his body behind. The scent of him, a predator and a monster, wafts around you and filters through your lungs, smells of relief and of freedom.

After all, if you have his head, he'll stay dead as a doornail until you put him back together like a jigsaw puzzle.

bunny's taglist: @bihwhatever2 @mssuguru @feral-creep @thechroniclesofawriter @xsmilesx @kat-sukiii @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @obeythemasters @aeanya @softkao @ccoralineee @blaize-hewwo

Bully

Bully!Dabi x F!Reader Series

Warnings: +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! This series contains: HEAVY Noncon, smut, bullying, manhandling, penetration, binding, threatening, creampie, breeding kink degradation, humiliation, abuse, violence, anxiety, spoilers, trauma, bruises, choking, spit play, cussing, dirty talk, oral sex (m.receiving) cum swallowing, semi public, noncon selfie, mention of alcohol, manipulation

Summary: After joining the League of Villains, you started facing bullying from a certain arsonist. Little by little the harassment grew to the point of physical violence that culminated to you being his personal fucktoy.

A.N.: If there’s any warnings missing, please let me know! 

Disclaimer: Characters mentioned belong to Kohei Horikoshi

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4. 

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9 

Ruined Series Masterlist

Ruined (Prequel, 4.7K words)

you are more than surprised when number one hero Enji Todoroki proposes that you marry his son Shouto. A pair of cerulean eyes witness the deal and decide to ruin it.

Salvation (7.2K words)

having birthed the perfect child to Shouto and Enji, you should call yourself happy. But you aren’t, keeping a secret that could mean ruin. But then a public revelation sends your life spiraling into chaos.

Related Asks:

Headcanons on what happens after Salvation

Names for their daughter

Househusband Dabi