You weren’t sure why you were here. The confidence you felt in the parking lot long since left your body. The initial giddiness had your hands shaking when you printed your name on the customer sign-in. Almost misspelling your own name on the page.
The cold, sterile environment settled into your bones, causing you to shiver. The walls were plastered with photos, portraits of different tattoos and piercings you assumes had to be of precious clients. Would you be asked to do something like that? Where you would have said yes readily before, you weren’t so sure.
The scrawny man behind the counter called your name. His light, shaggy hair hid eyes you were sure were judging you. You knew you didn’t fit in here, looking remarkably wholesome in comparison to the other stragglers, pierced and tattooed.
“Right, so that’s $20 for one, $40 for both,” the man behind the counter huffed. He looked bored, eyes half-lidded.
“U-Um, yeah. Here ya go,” You stuttered, pushing your card across the counter. There’s no turning back now, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t just let yourself waste $40 as a student, you had to do it now.
“Dabi will be with you shortly,” the man muttered, pushing your card and a copy of your receipt towards you.
You almost hoped he wouldn’t, that maybe he’d get too backed up with so many appointments that they refunded you and you could go home, wondering what made you want to do this in the first place.
You never did have very good luck.
You almost didn’t hear him call your name, too lost in your own thoughts.
Your breathe caught somewhere high in your throat. Seeing his tall form leaning against the door of his room, the tattoos crawling up, up, up from his fingers to the high cheekbones. Was this him? Was this Dabi? You were definitely out of place now.
He called your name a second time and you stood timidly. He looked you over with each step you took forward, eyebrow arched, smile cheshire-like as he took you in. A fish out of a water. His favorite.
His smile would have been charming, could have been charming, if you didn’t feel your skin prickle when you met his eyes.
He pressed his hand into your lower back as he ushered you into his room. It was a strangle shade of blue, like the flame of an especially hot fire. A tall mirror was mounted to the wall, reflecting your image as you took in the large padded table in the center of the room. Behind you, through the mirror you saw Dabi’s back turned to you as he shut the door and pulled down the blinds, covering the window between you and the outside world.
You gulped, shaking your head slightly to steady yourself as you stepped farther into the room, perching yourself on the edge of the padded table. You crossed your arms tightly round yourself, half for warmth, half for comfort.
“Well, I’m Dabi, and I’ll be piercing you today,” he introduced himself with a wink, reviewing your sheet on his clipboard.
“So nipple piercings today, is that right?” He arched his brow and you found yourself nodding softly.
“Uh, yeah,” you whispered. He smiled. That smile that you thought was meant to be comforting. That smile that made you feel like prey.
“Alright, well, do you have any questions before we start?”
You bit your lip, “U-Um, does it hurt a lot?”
This time he laughed and you felt that smile was somewhat more genuine. Somewhat.
“It depends, from my experience it felt like a pinch, but others have a bit more pain,” and like he could feel your trepidation he assured you, “but I promise I’ll try to make it as painless as I can.”
Why does he keep smiling? You nod.
“You can place your top and bra on that shelf,” he says pointing to a low shelf behind you.
It will be over before you know it, you chant like a mantra in your head, as you turn, catching a look of yourself in the mirror behind you.
You look pale, eyes wide, mouth parted as you try to take calming breaths, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.
He’s looking at you, turquoise eyes peering over your shoulder, locking with yours in the mirror. Slowly you pull the fabric of your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the shelf.
He’s closer now, eyes boring into your through the mirror, daring you. You shiver as your trembling fingers reach for the clasp to your bra. He makes you so nervous it takes you a few attempts to undue the clasps. You think you hear him laugh at you.
Your bra gives, straps falling down your arms, and you press the cups against your breasts for some coverage before you can replace them with your forearm. You toss your bra onto the pile. You miss entirely. You think that’s a sign of some sort.
He’s right behind you now. You feel his sturdy chest against your back, his lips close to your ear.
“I’m gonna need you to move your arm, princess,” his hot breath against your skin makes you shiver. You close your eyes as your arm drops, chest bared.
“Good girl,” he whispers, his cheek rubbing into your hair as he smells your shampoo.
You swallow sharply, eyelashes flutter enough you can catch a glance of him. If he was staring before, he’s ogling now. Turquoise eyes rake over your naked chest in the mirror. Slowly, from the corner of your eye you see his hand lift. Now clad in a black glove, he holds a Q-tip and you catch the harsh smell of alcohol.
Dabi traces the drench cotton swab over your nipple, the cool liquid combined with the cool air drawing a soft gasp from you. Slowly, he works a small circle around your nipple, drawing it to a hard peak that’s stiffens with each additional wipe of the alcohol swab.
Each circle brings to life a deep ache within you, making you close your eyes as you try not to think about the wetness blossoming in your panties.
He shifts, cotton swab coming to rub gentle, teasing circles against your other nipple. Fuck, is this supposed to turn you on? The sharp smell of alcohol and the harsh overhead lighting makes you feel like this is dirty, wrong, but the stiffening of your nipples under his gentle ministrations, his chest pressed to your back, his eyes catching yours in the mirror.
“Mm, that’s it, baby,” he whispers, lips tracing against the column of your neck. He makes quick nips to the soft skin, making your back arch into him, rubbing the curve of your ass against his hardening cock.
The draws a smirk, something really genuine this time, and he flicks the swab into the trash can before he turns you around.
Standing face-to-face now you stare at him somewhat dumbly, mouth slightly agape as you stare up at him, open, pliant. Just what he likes. He takes one step forward, and another, crowding you until the horny fog in your brain is somewhat abated enough to know you should step back and step back until you feel the cool padding of the table at your back.
Dabi’s fingers are working at your jeans before you have time to intervene and by the time you notice he’s roughly pulling your panties down your legs before wrapping his hands around your thighs and lifting you onto the table.
You blink dazedly. You aren’t sure what has come over you. Why you aren’t repulsed. Why you aren’t fighting. Why you aren’t protesting as he pushes your legs open, folding them till your heels rest on the edge of the table and you are so gloriously, mortifyingly bared to him in the most intimate of ways.
He’s so tall that kneeling on the floor still has him at the perfect height to gaze at the swollen, puffy lips of your pussy, glossy with your own slick.
You flush with embarrassment, the shame pools in your stomach and you almost feel nauseous. You want to hide but he keeps your legs wide, braced by his powerful, tattooed forearms.
You almost don’t feel his first soft lick, such a soft and uncharacteristically light touch of hot muscle to the smooth folds of your pussy. However, you soon feel the smooth, steel of his tongue piercing as it presses deliciously into your clit.
“Fuck, fuck, I-,” you gasp, head slinging back as he does it again, pressing the ball of his piercing into you clit before lapping at the bud. He alternates between long, broad licks from your dripping hole to your blushing clit and short, circles of that steel ball until your toes curl and your back arches, trying to get him to smother your pussy with all the attention it can handle.
His tongue prods your hole before dipping in, his tongue fucking you in earnest as he catches your eye. The lewdness of the whole situation has your velvety walls fluttering around his skillful tongue. He slurps at the juices, laving your clit with the excess fluids before he pulls back and spits on your pussy.
The sob you had held in finally breaks through as you angle your hips hoping you could catch your clit against his tongue piercing just one more time and grind yourself to orgasm.
God, it’s so sloppy. The slippery wetness so lewd, coating everything around your greedy cunt in its essence. The tattoos around Dabi’s jawline are glossy with your slick. His lips, plump from sucking at your folds, lap up the fluid with fervor and you could cum just thinking about it.
It feels so wrong.
It feels so right.
Your legs stiffen, that ache in the small of your back that aches to cum pulls tighter and before you know it you are tipped over the edge into your most mind-blowing orgasm.
You stare dazedly at the ceiling, orgasmic bliss leaving you almost catatonic. He licks you through it, the stimulation overwhelming on your sensitive pussy, you want to beg him to stop but you can’t find the words. The deep ache in your bones mounting again, making your blood beg for release.
You imagine yourself as some ancient queen, lying about her daybed as her loyal servant works her body over, spending hours between her legs. You are so lost in your fantasy you don’t feel him remove his mouth from you and stand between your legs. Your walls are still fluttering, still close despite his retreat.
Then you feel the sting and the most overwhelming pleasure you’ve ever known, causing slick to gush from your pussy as the small bu sharp needle is pressed through your nipple and the jewelry threaded through.
“Holy shit, did you just squirt,” Dabi asks, voice tinged with amazement. You open your eyes, cheeks already heating before you even notice the pool of wetness gathered on the table and at the hem of his shirt.
“U-Um,” you cough nervously, mind and body still too close to orgasmic bliss to comprehend anxiety, “s-sorry. That’s never happ-“
You cut yourself short with a cry as the white hot pain of the needle pressing through your second nipple combines with the relief of your third orgasm. The jewlry is threaded through deftly before you arms give way, dropping your body onto the padded table with a thud as you try to blink through the pain and the pleasure.
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Dabi mutters, palming his cock through his jeans.
“I’ll be right back, baby,” he promises, but you are too blissed out to notice as he exits the door, off to tell Shigaraki to cancel the rest of his appointments today.