Chapter Text
Torching the headquarters of the biggest support company in Musutafu, which supplied costumes and equipment to several surrounding prefectures, wasn’t personal on Dabi’s part. It was a challenge, though, to successfully destroy the labs and storage in particular because of all the security around them, and Dabi always liked challenges. If things were too easy, he got bored, and if there was one thing he truly disliked, it was boredom.
Part of the challenge required him actually getting into the building. Because of the surveillance and intel the League had received from well-paid contacts, they knew there was someone with a water quirk in the building who, among other things, was there to help prevent disasters like the one Dabi was going to cause from ruining the products they made. The strength of the water quirk holder was unknown but enough to have Dabi bringing Twice with him to ensure they were dealt with before the destruction could be hindered.
And it went swimmingly, pun intended. The young man was easily incapacitated after he let out a flash flood of water, and then the lab was engulfed in flames. A quick escape was guaranteed as he spewed jets of blue flame everywhere he went, incinerating what it touched and burning what surrounded it.
Twice had gone on ahead and Dabi himself was almost out of the crumbling building when unexpectedly, a leg shot out and tripped him.
Of course, he didn’t fall, but his balance was thrown off just long enough to make him stumble. Irritated, he turned, a palm ready to turn the offender into ash. But then he saw you.
He hesitated.
“How dare you,” you hissed, apparently unafraid of dying.
You were laying on the floor, and he could see why: a desk had been overturned and was pinning one of your legs to the ground. You had obviously been trying to get out and get help, but the cellphone gripped tightly in your hand had a cracked, black screen that told him it was broken. Your tight pencil skirt and blouse under a white lab coat told him you were one of the support engineers who worked here and probably one of the only still alive.
“How dare you come here and ruin all our hard work! How dare you destroy the things we’ve made to help heroes save people! How dare you hurt those who are only trying to save lives!” you said, tone shrill and angry. Your eyes were narrowed in anger, pupils dilated in fear, and face twisted in an expression of loathing. He found you… tantalizing.
The flames were burning higher now, and he didn’t think even he’d be able to stand it much longer. Your face was darkened by soot and he could see your sweet lips parted to gulp down whatever was left of the oxygen in the room.
You were beautiful. A true feast for the eyes, all blazing hatred and fearlessness; even your last act would be attempting to trip and humiliate one of your attackers.
It was entrancing, and as his eyes roved your body, he realized that he wanted you.
Just for a quick fuck, of course. It was too bad he couldn’t take advantage of your helplessness and fuck you into the floor right here. No one would ever know; you’d be nothing more than dust by the time the fire was put out. It was a shame you were going to die and he’d never get to sample you.
And then he realized that he didn’t strictly have to fuck you here, nor did you necessarily have to die in this specific fire.
He moved forward, raising his hand higher and releasing some blue flame onto his palm.
You glared up at him defiantly. “Do it, then,” you snarled furiously, still unafraid, and especially not afraid of him. He wouldn’t have liked that under normal circumstances, but at that moment he barely heard you, his eyes focused on your lips and imagining how they’d feel around his cock.
He took one more step forward, his fire dousing your face in bright light, before saying smugly, “No.” Your eyes widened in shock. Abruptly, he extinguished the flame and grabbed you by your hair, yanking you towards him.
You screamed as he violently dragged you upwards and simultaneously incinerated the desk pinning you down, giving you a healthy second-degree burn from the desk’s vicinity to your leg even though it wasn’t directly touching you anymore. He gazed into your eyes as you struggled to escape, leering with a lusty smirk, and you finally looked scared.
Dabi knocked you out before proceeding to escape the building post-haste, not a moment too soon: there was the hiss of steam from a jet of water nearby and Dabi knew he had to get the hell out of Dodge.
Instead of meeting up with Twice at the agreed upon location, Dabi contacted him and told him he’d be late and not to wait up. There must have been something in his voice that alerted Twice to the importance of his tardiness because there wasn’t a protest from either of the personalities, just a quick confirmation to meet back up at the League’s headquarters. That was fine. Dabi assumed he’d be done pretty quickly; there was something about fire, the adrenaline of destruction and pain and death that really got him going. He was already rock hard as he pinned your body to a back-alley wall, uncaring that you were unconscious as he ripped open your blouse and shoved up your skirt. He hoped you’d wake up, of course, but there was a bit of a time restriction and it wasn’t like you were going to live to remember this either way.
Your red lace bra was torn open, a strap breaking as he snapped the front, before he eagerly palmed your breasts, roughly kneading and pinching your soft nipples. They were perfect mounds in his hands, supple and silky, just the size he preferred. He couldn’t help but nuzzle one with his cheek, reveling in their perfection.
As he pinched and pulled without mercy, your nipples hardened from the pain of his ministrations even in your unconsciousness. It was only when he sucked harshly on one—he had always been a breast man—that you began to stir, eyes fluttering open as your hips feebly bucked against his. You were disoriented and obviously didn’t realize what was going on; Dabi couldn’t imagine that you would be so responsive when you regained your wits.
This wasn’t the first time he’d taken a woman by force so he knew that whatever you were feeling right now would dissipate quickly once the situation dawned on you. Maybe there’d still be some lubrication when he first entered you, but he knew that rape was generally a dry fuck with only spit to smooth the way.
Undeterred by this knowledge, he continued to suck and grope, wedging a knee between your thighs so a hand could stay free. He heard you groan, then tense as tight as a bow string.
“What the…” you muttered, struggling slightly. He ignored you; no one would hear anything you said or did with the fire blazing so nearby. Your hips twitched against his knee, and it was then he noticed that through his slacks, there was light dampness.
He was surprised, yes, but oh so pleased. Had he found himself a little slut?
Dabi released your breast with a soft pop and kissed back up your neck. Your eyes were finally open enough to meet his and there was immediate recognition.
“What the fuck! Stop!” you shrieked, kicking out and starting to fight in earnest. Wanting to scare you a bit more, he roughly bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder.
Instead of a scream, you released a full-body shudder, and the sound that escaped you wasn’t one of fear or pain.
He pulled away. Oh, this was just too much. You, this beautiful, defiant woman with no fear in your eyes as you demanded he stop, were getting off on this.
“Stop!” you shrieked again. He leaned into your face.
“You don’t want me to, though,” he said, eyes crinkling in sadistic glee. “Don’t lie and say you can’t feel how wet you are, slut.” Your face flamed in fury.
Then you headbutted him.
He pulled away just in time, but your forehead bumped his nose painfully anyway. A blue flame appeared in his hand and he shoved it close enough to your throat to hurt but not burn. “You don’t want to do that,” he said, but he was grinning manically.
“I’d rather die,” you growled, and leaned forward toward the flame as if you would actually prefer to die than be raped.
Then again, you were going to die either way. Maybe you knew that.
Still, he extinguished the flame. He was getting impatient, so he gripped your throat tightly to immobilize you, squeezing just hard enough to turn your breathing into light wheezing but not enough to knock you out quickly.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun, you and me,” he told you, yanking down your underwear. Upon feeling the soft satin and gauzy lace, he looked down and found that you were wearing a pair of cherry red panties that matched your bra. Your lucky lover would surely be devastated by your death.
You whimpered, and tears were beading in your eyes before dripping down your face. He wasn’t sure if it was the pressure on your throat or distress, but you made a lovely picture.
The panties were soaked, as he knew they would be, and impulsively he stuffed them into his jacket pocket. There was no reason not to take them when they would continue smelling delicious for a while yet.
One-handedly, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from its uncomfortable confines and stroking it. He didn’t need to, though; he was going to come all too soon. It was too bad he wasn’t going to have time for a refractory period so he could enjoy you properly.
As he aligned himself with your sodden pussy, he felt more than saw you shaking your head desperately. His hand was damp with tears. It didn’t matter, as in the next moment he was plunging into you and hissing from how tight you were. Almost as tight as a virgin.
Maybe no lover was going to be devastated after all. Maybe you wore these sexy undergarments in case you were in a position to be taken advantage of; just in case someone like him treated like the slut you were. Strangely, the thought didn’t so much as amuse him, but this wasn’t the time for thinking anyways.
Dabi pulled back all the way until only his head was inside you, then thrust back in you as hard as he could. You wheezed a yelp and tried to pull his hand away from your throat, but your struggles were weak and your hands couldn’t find purchase. The lack of a full breath was starting to affect you.
He set a frenzied pace, not having the patience to luxuriate in your tightness or the silken feel of you around him like he’d never felt before or the way your walls gripped him like a vice. He was already too close to the edge.
You let out a ragged sob as a flush of wetness escaped you to soak him, and your hips began to lightly move against his. Little more than your previous movements, yes, but you were obviously seeking pleasure.
You were getting pleasure from this. He had to admit he was impressed.
“You really are just a slut, aren’t you?” he asked, panting lightly even as he adjusted himself to hit your g-spot. “You like this, huh, you little whore?”
You sobbed again as your hips moved harder against his. Your body was practically begging him for release, and when you were such a good fuck, how could he deny you? He reached down and began massaging your clit lightly with just enough pressure to make your hips move faster; too much stimulation and you might stop fucking him back.
Instead, you began to push into his hand, desperate for a firmer touch.
“You’re just a cum slut,” he said, flush with victory and lust. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you? Can’t you feel how bad you want this? You’re so wet, but you play hard to get—that turns you on, huh? Can’t give it out for free, I guess. I bet you wanted this the moment you laid eyes on me.”
Rage shone in your eyes like hellfire as you tried to fervently shake your head, but your hips didn’t even stutter. It was a lovely sight and he wished he had a camera. The memory of this was going to be getting him off for weeks.
As he angled just right and his pace turned punishing, you tensed; your eyes fluttered shut as your back arched and your walls clamped down around his cock, just about strangling it. He was already so close that he immediately came, your pussy milking him for every drop he could give. He released you throat just to hear the moans escaping you as you peaked, his shallow but firm thrusting drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible.
And then, all too soon, it was over.
You were woozy as he released you, your legs not able to support you as you crumpled to the ground. You had come hard, he knew, just from how long it had lasted. He wondered if it was like that for you every time, or if it was just because this was obviously the first time you’d had sex in a long time. As Dabi tucked himself back in his boxers, he felt cheated that he would never find out.
He took a brief moment to take you in: hair disheveled, half-naked, and flushed with milky white semen leaking out from between your legs. You were crying but limp, the image of defeat, and he made sure to memorize the sight so he wouldn’t forget for a long time.
Dabi made sure he had his fill of your broken beauty before reluctantly lighting his hand and aiming his flames at you, when—
“Hey! Step away from the girl!” shouted the voice of a hero he didn’t recognize. A gust of leaves shot forward, sharp and cutting. Dabi instinctively burned the foliage with a spray of fire.
The hero was at the front of the alley while the both of you were near the back. Dabi could easily incinerate you and get away before the hero even got close, but he had already hesitated once to kill you in the building and he found himself hesitating again.
It would be a waste to get rid of you when there was so much more he wanted from you, wouldn’t it?
He flexed his hand and shot a more powerful a stream of fire at the hero, unconcerned with whether it hit him or not as long as it provided a distraction. Fishing in your discarded lab coat’s pockets, he found was he was looking for: your ID badge from your job.
Reading your name, he decided that it suited you and was definitely enough to track you down again. Tucking it in his pocket along with your panties, he stopped his attack long enough to say, “See you later, princess.”
You finally lifted your tear-stained face and gave him a look of such utter loathing he felt a tightening in his lower stomach despite not enough time passing for him to get hard again.
The hero had recovered by then and was closing in, and Dabi darted away with only a brief backwards glance at you. The hero chose not to pursue and instead help you, and Dabi internally bristled at the way the hero helped you shrug on your lab coat and cover yourself, and the grateful look you gave the piece of shit.
As he vaulted over the chain link fence to freedom, he promised himself he’d be back for you.