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The table was held up by 3 magazines stacked under one leg. Their chairs didn't match either. One was a rusted bar stool that creaked if you leaned too far, another a velvet dining seat with one golden leg and three metal ones. They’d stolen most of it and scavenged the rest. But it worked. Everyone had a seat at the table.
Empty beer bottles, plastic cups, and a few shot glasses littered the table. Some of them still had liquid inside them, the type of alcohol you have to drink in one go, because it feels like torture to sip. And they had drunk a lot.
The room pulsed with loud, shitty music from a speaker taped together at the corners. It kept skipping beats occasionally like it was drunk too. The air was thick with smoke, creating a sort of fog in the badly ventilated room. Spinner had one tucked between his fingers, even as he gestured wildly mid-story. Dabi leaned back in his chair, slowly exhaling his own. Across from them, Magne clicked her lighter open and closed, a cigarette already burning between her lips, and Twice had his cigarette burning away on its own as he was too engrossed in his own rant to notice. The only one without a cigarette was Toga.
They gave her booze, sure. Sloppy, sugary stuff in bright colors she liked. But not a cigarette. Not even when she pouted about it, wanting to try it, slumping against Magne’s side and whining that she was “basically grown.” Magne had flicked her forehead and handed her another plastic cup instead. “Drink this, baby vampire. That’s your vice.”
Toga sipped her drink with dramatic flair, sticking her tongue out after. “It tastes like cough syrup and regret.”
“Exactly,” Dabi said, raising his own cup in mock salute. “Welcome to adulthood.”
“It’s my fourth one,” she declared proudly, immediately hiccupping. “Fifth? Whatever.”
“Sixth, if we’re counting the one you spilled on me,” Spinner muttered, brushing at the damp stain on his hoodie. “Which I am.”
Toga blinked, clearly not sorry. “I’m just enthusiastic.”
Dabi snorted, dragging on his cigarette. The warmth of the alcohol settled deep in his veins, making his head heavy and his mouth more inclined to curve into a smile. “Enthusiastic is one word for it.”
“Hey, I’m the life of the party,” Toga shot back, poking Dabi’s ribs. “You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what? The way you make everyone clean up after you?” Spinner rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m messy. But fun!” Toga said, raising her brightly colored cup.
“Fun’s one thing,” Magne said, blowing out a slow stream of smoke, “but you’re also the reason we keep running out of napkins.”
“Napkins are overrated,” Twice declared, grinning like he was making a profound statement.
Dabi chuckled, reaching for a half-empty bottle of rum. “You’re all a bunch of degenerates.”
“Speak for yourself,” Spinner said, smiling despite himself. “I’m a charming, sophisticated degenerate.”
“Sure,” Dabi said dryly, “if you say so.”
The music sputtered and cracked, but nobody bothered to fix it. The table wobbled slightly as Twice slammed his cup down in rhythm, chanting off-beat. The place smelled of smoke and spilled liquor, the kind that settled into your clothes and your memories, whether you wanted it to or not.
Then the door opened with a creak.
All heads turned as Shigaraki stepped inside, his presence swallowing some of the noise. His hood was up, but his frizzy blue hair still framed his face, sticking out awkwardly from underneath the hood. He didn’t say a word, just scanned the room with those sharp, unreadable red eyes.
“Look who finally decided to join us!” Twice whooped, pointing like he’d discovered a rare animal.
Toga gasped dramatically, sloshing pink liquid over the rim of her cup. “Boss! Join us!”
Spinner grinned, tipping his half-empty bottle toward the door. “He’s sober. That’s disgusting.”
“Unacceptable,” Magne agreed, already reaching for the bottle of something mean.
“Sit down, sit down—no, wait, don’t sit down yet!” Twice yelped, scrambling to pour a shot with shaky enthusiasm.
“You guys are so loud,” Shigaraki muttered, voice gravel-edged but quiet like the volume might physically hurt him. Yet he still reached across the table and grabbed the almost overflowing shot glass and smoothly tipped it back. "Happy?" he asked dryly.
“No sitting down until you’ve caught up,” Magne said, already pouring another shot into the glass Shiagraki set down on the table a second ago.
Twice sat back in his seat lazily. “One for every time you ignored the group chat!”
Shigaraki didn’t bother protesting. He just exhaled through his nose, jaw ticking slightly as he downed the second shot. The third had him blinking hard, like his brain tried to pull the emergency brake halfway through.
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, but a plastic cup heavy with liquid was already in his hand before he could set the last shot glass down.
“Mixer,” Spinner said, looking way too pleased with himself. “I made it just for you.”
Shigaraki sniffed it suspiciously. “Is this… rum?”
“And something carbonated!” Twice chirped. “We think.”
From his chair, Dabi watched with his usual slouch, cigarette hanging loose between two fingers, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “They won’t stop till your blood is legally flammable.”
Shigaraki shot him a flat look.
“Shouldn’t have stepped in the room” Dabi added, voice full of dry amusement.
Shigaraki pulled his hoodie over his head and set it on the back of one of the empty chairs, settling in shortly after. He was sitting around the corner from Dabi.
“Don’t get comfortable,” Toga warned, already sliding another shot glass toward him. “You’re still like… four behind.”
“Five,” Spinner corrected.
“Six” Twice tried to add, pushing his luck.
“I’m not doing six,” Shigaraki said flatly, but it didn’t stop Toga from lining them up like tiny glass soldiers.
“You say that,” Magne said sweetly, “but you’re already halfway to cooperative.”
Shigaraki sighed like a man facing a firing squad, but his hand didn’t waver as he picked up the next shot. Toga, gleeful, grabbed one too. Spinner followed, and Magne didn’t even pause, she just filled hers up to the brim. Twice had already poured two for himself, just in case.
“Alright,” Magne declared, lifting her glass. “To bad decisions and good company.”
“To the world’s worst group chat,” Spinner added.
“To friendship!” Toga cheered.
“To alcohol poisoning,” Twice said brightly.
They all looked to Dabi. He just raised an eyebrow and muttered, “To regret,” before lifting his cup lazily.
Shigaraki’s lip twitched to an almost a smile, maybe, or just the beginnings of one.
They clinked their glasses together with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Liquid sloshed. One of Twice’s spilled entirely.
“Three, two, one!” Toga counted.
The room tipped back their shots as one.
It hit hard. Burned sharp. Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed as he swallowed it down, breath catching for half a second before he thumped the glass back on the table. A chain reaction of coughing and groaning followed.
“Ugh,” Spinner said, wiping his mouth. “That was so bad.”
“I think I can see sounds,” Twice mumbled, blinking rapidly.
“That means it’s working,” Magne said, patting him on the back.
Shigaraki didn't acknowledge them and reached for the questionable rum-and-whatever Spinner had made. He sipped it this time, almost like a chaser.
“You gonna survive?” Dabi asked, leaning an elbow on the table, eyes glinting with amusement.
Shigaraki side-eyed him over the rim of his glass. “Barely.”
“Guess the war’s not what’ll kill you. It’s our hospitality.”
Shigaraki huffed, low and dry. “You’re the last one to talk. You haven’t moved since I walked in.”
Dabi grinned, lazy and wolfish. “Didn’t need to. Watching you suffer is entertainment enough.”
Spinner snorted. “He’s been real chatty since you showed up, actually.”
“Careful,” Shigaraki said in mock worry, staring at Dabi “or I’ll start thinking you missed me.”
Dabi’s smirk widened, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers. “What gave it away? The four shots or the part where you didn’t yell at anyone yet?”
Shigaraki tilted his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll get to it.”
—
Late into the night, the room had slowed to a quiet buzz. Toga was passed out, her head resting on the table, Shigaraki’s hoodie draped over her like a makeshift blanket. Her breathing was soft and even. The others lounged around the table, chairs creaking under slumped bodies. Half-empty bottles of beer and new weird mixers in plastic cups were in their hands. The speaker’s music still hummed low, skipping occasionally but still alive.
Spinner was nowhere to be seen. Last anyone heard, he’d disappeared to the bathroom, where he was currently locked in a losing battle with the toilet.
Magne was rubbing her temples, eyes heavy but trying to stay upright. Twice was talking softly to himself, the usual manic edge worn down to a tired murmur. Dabi lounged back in his chair, hands fiddling with a half-empty pack of cigarettes.
Shigaraki shifted in his chair, idly tugging at the bandage wrapped around his pinky tip. A precaution he had learned to take when drinking, as a just-in-case. His eyes flicked to Dabi. “You got another cigarette?”
Dabi didn’t bother looking up. “Seriously? You’ve drained my stash enough tonight.”
Shigaraki’s gaze sharpened just a bit. “I’m your boss.”
Dabi laughed dryly as he offered the box to his boss. He watched carefully as his deadly hands fished one of the pack.
Dabi leaned in closer, whispering low and smooth, “Want me to do the hard part for you?”
Before Shigaraki could respond, a soft blue flame flickered from Dabi’s fingertips, gently igniting the cigarette’s tip.
Their eyes met, calm, sharp, a silent game passing between them.
Did I just sound like that? Dabi's mind stumbled over itself. Why did I even say it like that?
Neither moved. Neither spoke. The cigarette smoldered between them as the room hummed quietly around their sudden silence.
Shigaraki’s breath hitched, not from the smoke, but from how close Dabi was. His heart thudded awkwardly like it didn’t know whether to run or freeze.
Without a word, they both slid back just a little, breaking the closeness but not acknowledging it.
Sitting back in their seats, they found Magne staring at them with a sly smirk on her face. Before either of them got a moment to understand what happened, the door to the bathroom slammed opened. Spinner stumbled out, hair disheveled, eyes wild but sparkling with triumph.
“Reborn and ready!” he declared, pumping his fists in the air like a man who had conquered Everest, or at least the bathroom.
Magne groaned, rubbing her temples. “Finally. We thought you’d been lost to the porcelain gods.”
“Nah, just had to face the beast. Came out victorious.” Spinner grinned like it was a badge of honor. “Who is ready for another shot?!”
Magne groaned and got up from her seat. “Nope. I'm done for the night, you guys have fun.” She walked over to where Toga was still trying to sleep. She gently lifted her head from the table, draped Shigaraki’s hoodie more securely over her, then carefully picked her up. Quietly, she carried her down the hallway, trying her best to not disturb her.
Spinner turned to twice who was already standing up from his seat. He yawned loudly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stood up straighter. “I think I’ll call it a night too,” he mumbled, voice still heavy with tiredness.
Spinner waved a hand at Twice. “Don’t go so soon! The night’s still young!”
Twice gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’m old, I’m out of shape.” He headed for the door, glancing back once with a tired grin. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
Dabi reached for one of the shots already poured, glancing at Shigaraki. Shigaraki sighed and reached for his own glass. Spinner beamed as he reached for his own glass and held it up in the air.
“Ready for round... what is this now?” Dabi drawled, lighting his own smoke.
“Too many,” Shigaraki muttered, but he lifted his glass anyway, matching Spinner’s movement.
—
It was just them now. The room had emptied, lights dimmed low. Shigraki had his feet propped up on one of the empty chairs, his head slumped against the backrest of his chair. His hair fell softly around his face.
Dabi leaned on his elbow, resting his chin in his palm, eyes fixed on Shigaraki. They’d been tangled in a pointless conversation for a while.
“Alright alright, how is this” Dabi started up, wearing the same smirk he was worn for around 30 minutes now. “Would you rather always have to wear shoes three sizes too big, or have your socks always be wet?”
Shigraki frowned, brows furrowing in thought. “I don't like the questions you ask,” he stated.
Dabi chuckled “Pick one. It’s life or death or whatever.”
Shigaraki sighed. “Wet socks are unbearable. I’ll take the clown shoes.”
“True,” Dabi nodded. “But you’d still be tripping over your own feet all day.”
Shigaraki took a sip of his beer. “Whatever, it's my turn. Would you rather have to speak in rhyme for the rest of your life, or only be able to communicate through charades?”
Dabi raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Seriously? That’s your question?”
Shigaraki shrugged. “Yeah,” he said matter-of-factly.
Dabi chuckled. “Fine. I’ll take rhyming. At least then I can still talk smack.”
Shigaraki hummed in agreement, slowly taking a sip of his drink, eyes casually tracking Dabi.
Dabi smirked, fingers drumming a lazy rhythm on the table. “What’s the most useless talent you secretly have?”
Without warning, Shigaraki shifted in his chair. He pushed himself upright, sliding his feet off the empty chair and leaning forward so that his elbows rested lightly on the table. Now sitting fully face-to-face with Dabi. Dabi’s smirk faltered for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness.
Then, without breaking eye contact, Shigaraki calmly stuck out his tongue and touched the tip of his nose.
Dabi grinned widely, amused by how seriously Shigaraki answered his question.
“You?” Shigaraki asked.
Dabi answered, leaning in like it was a competition. “I can fold a damn good paper airplane. Aerodynamic enough to win competitions.”
Shigaraki snorted, shaking his head. “That’s not a talent. That’s just wasting time.”
“You wouldn't be saying that if you saw my airplanes” Dabi responded, “I'm an artist.”
Shigaraki’s smile lingered longer than usual, softening the usual sharp edges of his expression. He leaned forward again, settling his elbows on the table. “So,” he said coolly, “how many people have you actually slept with?”
A moment filled with silence filled the room.
Until Dabi blinked, then laughed, loud and low. Shigraki didn't falter, keeping his eyes glued on Dabi.
Dabi’s smirk flickered, amused by the challenge. “Enough to know what I like.”
Shigaraki raised an eyebrow.
Dabi added on “Seventeen”
Shigraki sipped his beer slowly before responding with a smug smile on his face “You kept count.”
Dabi’s smirk grew wider, eyes sharp and teasing. “Counting’s only fair when the game’s worth keeping score.” He tapped the table with a finger, leaning in slightly. “So, what about you? Got a number to brag about, or are you more the silent type?”
Shigaraki’s smile didn’t waver. Instead, he leaned in closer, eyes locked on Dabi like he was dissecting him piece by piece.
“Silent type? Nah.” Shigaraki’s voice was low but steady, rapid now as he fired off question after question, cutting no room for Dabi to answer.
“What’s your favorite position?”
“What’s your go-to move?”
“Straight up, do you prefer giving or taking?”
Dabi blinked, a grin tugging at his lips despite the sudden onslaught. “Jesus, you don’t do small talk?”
Shigaraki shrugged, expression unreadable. “You don’t do small talk.” He kept going before Dabi could think of a response
“Have you ever had a crush on someone you shouldn’t?”
“Got a type you can’t resist?”
“And what’s the wildest thing you’ve tried?
Dabi’s smirk twisted into something darker, a spark lighting his eyes. “You’re relentless.”
Shigaraki’s grin widened just a little. “I’m just getting started.”
Dabi opened his mouth to reply, but Shigaraki cut in again, voice sharper this time. “Ever been with a guy before? Does it change how you… connect?”
Dabi cut in, chuckling to himself, He pushed himself up from his seat and made his way around the table to lean against the table next to Shigaraki's seat. He crossed his arms in front of him and started down to Shigaraki who was now looking up to him. The silence between them thickened, charged. Neither broke eye contact—both daring the other to blink first.
Dabi’s grin widened as the heat of his body crowded Shigaraki’s space. His voice dropped to a low tease, thick with liquor and mischief. “Curious, huh? Bet you never ask questions like these unless you want more than answers.”
Shigaraki didn't answer just kept challenging Dabi with his eyes, as if expecting him to answer all of his questions.
Dubai restored back “It wasn't your turn to ask a question. You didn't answer my question.” Grin still plastered on his face, he restated his question “So, what’s your tally?”
Shigaraki’s eyes flickered away for a split second, subtle but there — a crack in his usual armor. He shifted slightly, the weight of the question settling heavier than expected. “I don’t usually…,” he muttered, voice quieter, almost reluctant.
Dabi’s smirk softened into something almost reassuring, his tone dropping to a teasing whisper as he leaned in, the warmth of his breath brushing Shigaraki’s ear. “I’m not here to judge. Whatever number’s got your name on it, it’s just a number. Doesn’t change a damn thing.” He paused, eyes gleaming with playful intent. “But if you’re scared I’m gonna use it against you, I promise. I’m just curious. That’s all.”
Shigaraki met his gaze again, the tension between them thick, electric. Finally, with a slow, reluctant exhale, he gave a number. “Three.”
Dabi’s eyes narrowed playfully, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. “Three, huh? That’s… higher than I thought.” He leaned back just enough to hold Shigaraki’s gaze, voice dipping into a low tease. “Honestly, I didn’t think anyone actually slept with you.”
The words hit sharper than he expected. Suddenly, Shigaraki jerked upright so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, wobbling on its legs and tipped backward, clattering to the ground behind him.
Before Dabi even registered the sound of the chair hitting the floor, he felt Shigaraki pulling him by his collar into a rough kiss. The sudden motion and the weight of Shigaraki pressed close made Dabi stumble, almost losing his balance.
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the late hour of the night, and maybe Dabi didn't have anything to blame for how quickly he wrapped his arms around Tomura's waist and pulled him even closer to him. According to Dabi's response, Shigaraki let go of Dabi's collar and instead wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tangled his other hand carefully in Dabi's disheveled hair.
The kiss heated up, all tongues swirling and teeth biting bottom lips, heavy breaths against each other's open mouths, and bodies moving against each other. Dabi let his hands wander to Shigaraki's ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing tight. The response from Shigaraki came in the form of a groan, causing him to pull away from Dabi's mouth.
“Answer my question,” Shigaraki said through labored breath. “Ever been with a guy?”
Dabi saw his spit-covered mouth shining in the dim light, he saw his blown pupils sitting under half-lidded eyes, his dissolved hair, and his pink-dusted cheeks. Dabi caught his breath, his fingers tightened on Shigaraki’s waist, then slowly traced up to the side of his neck, fingers warm against cold skin.
Dabi's grip tightened around Shigaraki's waist as his grime deepened, low and rough. “Yeah,” he said, “a few times.”
Shigaraki’s fingers slid along Dabi’s collarbone, tracing lazy, deliberate patterns that made Dabi’s smirk falter for just a moment. Three? Five? Ten?” His gaze was cool, almost amused as he leaned in closer.
Dabi’s eyes darkened, amusement flickering with something hotter, more dangerous. “You’re really fishing for numbers, huh?” Tomura’s thumb flicked over a sensitive spot just beneath Dabi’s jaw.
Shigaraki leaned even closer and spoke slowly directly into Dabi's ear. “I want you to say it. Don’t make me guess.”
Dabi tried to fight off the shivers that went through his body. It was useless as Shigaraki’s hand slid casually to Dabi’s hip, fingers pressing lightly but deliberately. Dabi sighed, entertaining Shigaraki “Four.”
Shigraki licked a strip of Dabi's neck, his hands still lightly exploring his body, prodding softly. Dabi let his head fall back, giving Shigaraki even more space. “ Four out of seventeen is a bad record,” he pulled Dabis's hips flush against his own. The movement made Dabi groan. Shigaraki prodded further, “How come Dabi?”
Dabi's eyes darkened with sudden fire. Without warning, he yanked Shigaraki closer by the waistband, gripping him firmly and hard enough to make him stumble. He spun him around and pushed him back onto the table with a sharp thud, placing himself between Shigaraki's legs, as close as possible.
Dabi leaned down, lips hovering near Shigaraki’s ear, voice low and fierce.
“You ask too many damn questions,” Dabi growled, breath hot against skin. “Maybe I’m just picky. Maybe it’s ‘cause not everyone can handle me.”
“I’m not most people,” he whispered, voice a rough promise, before both their lips crashed into each other and their arms again.
Dabi slid his hand under Shirgaki's shirt, making contact with the smooth and soft skin under. Shigrakai was more direct. He hooked both hands under the hem of Dabi's shirt, tugging hard enough to pull it up and over his head in one swift motion.
The bare skin revealed, warm and flushed, made Shigaraki’s eyes darken with something resembling hunger. His hands didn’t hesitate, roaming over Dabi’s chest, tracing the planes and lines as if memorizing every inch.
Dabi responded in kind, slipping his hands beneath Shigaraki’s shirt and dragging it up and off with equal swiftness. The cool air hit Shigaraki’s skin, goosebumps rising where Dabi’s fingertips skimmed.
Their clothes pooled around their feet as their breaths grew heavier. Shigaraki's hands traced the staples littering Dabi's chest and back as Dabi’s hand drifted lower, exploring the plethora of scars littering Shigaraki’s torso.
Then, suddenly, a cold reality hit them both, no condoms, no lube. Neither of them had planned this far. Dabi’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his lips curved into a slow, wicked smile pressed just inches from Shigaraki’s ear. “So… what now? No gear, no plan, no clue who’s supposed to do what.”
Shigaraki let out an annoyed groan.
“Hold that thought,” Dabi said with a grin, voice low and teasing.
Without breaking eye contact or loosening their embrace, Dabi’s hand slid from Shigaraki’s waist to his shoulder, giving a slow, deliberate squeeze. Then, almost reluctantly, he pulled back just enough to step away. Clad only in his underwear, he navigated the cramped corridors to his room with a confident, easy stride.
Seconds later, he was back, a box of condoms in one hand, a bottle of lube in the other.
He tossed the condoms and lube onto the table Shigaraki was sitting on, then slid back between Shigaraki’s legs. His hands landed firmly on Shigaraki’s thighs, fingers digging in with a rough squeeze.
Shigaraki didn’t hesitate, he hooked one leg around Dabi’s waist, pulling him flush. Getting Dabi that close, feeling the intense heat emanating from his skin, Tomura felt like he was gonna melt. The way Dabi's eyes scanned his face, roaming over his features, taking him in, and really feeling, capturing the moment. “Gonna show me what you can do hot shot?” he said teasingly, a smirk playing on his face. "Show me what all that experience’s taught you?”
Dabi met Shigaraki’s gaze, a sudden fire igniting inside him. “Oh, fuck,” he growled, crashing his lips against Shigaraki’s in a fierce and hungry kiss. His hands moved quickly, sliding from Shigaraki’s thighs to grabbing the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down with urgent need.
His hand was immediate in grabbing around Tomura's hard cock, fingers moving in a slow, deliberate stroke. His mouth never left Shigaraki’s, lips parting to deepen the kiss, tasting the sharp tang of liquor. Shigaraki’s hands tightened around Dabi’s shoulders, then slid upward to tangle in his messy hair, pulling him even closer. A low, ragged moan escaped Shigaraki’s throat, vibrating against Dabi’s lips.
Shigaraki started to buck his hips up to meet Dabi's thrusts, leaning back against the table as Dabi kissed down his chest, lips stopping around his nipples. When Dabi's lips closed around a nipple, tongue flicking against it with practiced confidence, Shigaraki let out a sound between a groan and a laugh, head falling back as his spine arched off the table.
“Fuck” he breathed out lowly. Dabi smirked against his skin, the vibration of it making Shigaraki shiver. Dabi took that as a sign to go down further, licking down Tomrua's abdomen. By the time he knelt between Shigaraki's legs again, their breathing was ragged and the air thick with anticipation. Dabi looked up through his lashes, a dark gleam in his eyes, and Shigaraki met his gaze with a crooked smirk of his own.
When Dabi took Tomura's cock in his mouth down to the base, Tomura exhaled in shock and amusement, arching up into Dabis mouth. “Dabi, shit”
Taking Shigaraki's response had encouragement, Dabi started to suck. He never enjoyed giving head, the very few times he did give it, but no one had ever been as responsive as Tomura, and no one seemed to be affected by him as much as Tomura.
It was rare for Dabi to lose himself like this, to find satisfaction in the way someone unraveled under him. He dropped to his knees fully, bringing his free hand to the base of Tomura's cock, and started to stroke where his mouth didn't reach. His eyes had begun to burn and he could feel his jaw starting to hurt quickly but he didn’t stop, not when Shigaraki’s hand tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to sting, grounding him in the moment.
“Ah…” Shigaraki’s voice broke through in a ragged exhale, his thighs shaking every now and then next to Dabi's head. It sent a thrill down his spine.
Dabi slowed his pace just enough to draw out Shigaraki’s breath, glancing up briefly to catch the flushed, half-lidded expression on his face. The way Shigaraki looked down at him with wide-eyed, breathless, and undone, it made Dabi want to drag this out for as long as Shigaraki could take it.
Shugaraki nudged the bottle of lube towards Dabi and no words were exchanged as Dabi wrapped his mouth around the head of Tomuras cock once again, and pooped open the cap of the lube with his other hand.
Thanks to his quirk, the lube was warmed up by the time his hand prodded Tomura's hole. He spread the lube around and sank one finger in. Shigaraki shifted, one leg propped up on the table, wordlessly giving him more space.
Dabi’s hand moved in slow, steady circles until he sunk a finger in, down to the knuckle. He continued his pace, bringing his mouth up and down while his hand explored inside, adding an additional fingering and loosening him up.
Soon Tomura's breaths and groans grew louder, and his twitching grew more restless, muscles tightening with every subtle movement. Dabi’s hand gradually slowed as his fingers curled inside Shigaraki, dragging every shiver from him. Then, with slow, teasing precision, he withdrew his fingers one by one. His lips parted from Tomura’s cock with a soft, wet pop. A thin strand of saliva stretched between them, an image almost too lewd to bear.
Dabi reached for the box across the table, never once breaking eye contact with Tomura, fishing out a condom and opening it with practice ease. He leaned forward over Shigaraki as he slid the condom on himself with a groan. He had neglected himself this entire time, so the little relief the condom rolling on provided was enough to get his hands shaky.
Shigraki didn't speak he just hooked his leg higher around Dabi’s hip, pulling him in closer, need written in every tense line of his body. Taking that as permission, Dabi guided himself in, slow and deliberate, feeling every inch as Shigaraki adjusted around him. A sharp breath escaped from both of them as their bodies finally met fully, skin against skin.
“Oh fuckkkkk” Shigaraki rasped, head tipping back against the table. “Fuck, Dabi.”
For a second, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing.
Then Dabi started to move, hard and deliberate thrusts that rattled the table beneath them.
Shigaraki’s leg tightened around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. The room was filled with the sounds of skin on skin, gasps, rough groans, and the squeaking of the table as it failed to balance on 3 legs and 1 slightly shorter leg.
Dabi grabbed on tight at Shigaraki's waist, both hands wrapping around him as if to hold him steady so he could fuck into him. Shigaraki’s moans came in ragged gasps, each one sharper than the last as his nails scraped the table, trying desperately to hold on.
“You need to be quieter boss” Dabi warned him through a smirk. “You’re gonna wake someone up. Unless you want them to see you like this?”
Tomura’s back arched sharply, his hand flying to cover his mouth with a slap. Dabi felt him tighten around his cock. A sheer layer of sweat covered his shaking porcelain skin as the hairs around his forehead dampened and stuck to his skin.
Dabi smirked at the sight, hands squeezed possessively over Shigaraki’s hips, nails digging in just enough to leave marks. “That’s what I thought.” He thrust in deeper, slower now. Not out of mercy, but to make it last. “Look at you. All that power, all that rage, and here you are shaking like you’ll break.”
Tomura’s breath hitched, his body jerking forward with the force of another thrust. The sounds spilling out of him were muffled behind his palm as Dabi leaned in, bringing his mouth to level with Tomura's ear.
“But I like you like this,” he whispered. He kept slowly grinding his hips in and out, setting a much slower pace now, choosing to tease Tomura to coax more reactions out of him. “Do you like me like this, boss?” The words fed right into Tomura's ear. “Am I treating you well?”
His hand slipped around to Tomura’s throat, thumb brushing over the hollow of his throat where his pulse fluttered, wild and fast. He didn’t squeeze, but the weight of his hand was unmistakable, possessive. Intimate in a dangerous sort of way.
“I haven’t touched your cock once, but you’re leaking all over your stomach,” Dabi murmured, voice low and rough, almost amused. He slowly sped up his pace, sharp and deep thrusts, drilling his cock into Tomura. “You always this easy to crack?
Shigaraki’s breath hitched sharply, his nails scraping the rough wood beneath him, desperate to hold something steady. His eyes flickered up, dark and burning with a fierce edge. “Harder. Fuck me harder. Give me more”
Dabi’s smirk deepened, fingers tightening possessively around Tomura's waist. He didn’t relent. “Oh, I’m gonna break you. Gonna fuck you so hard, gonna milk you dry. You gonna beg me to stop? Or you gonna scream my name like the filthy, desperate slut you are?” His hips moved with a ruthless rhythm, each thrust measured but unyielding, pushing deeper, harder. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room.
Shigaraki’s body trembled, his voice barely a growl.“Scream. I want you to make me scream.” He moved his hips in tandem, fucking back onto Dabi's cock.
Dabi slammed into him harder, faster, relentlessly as they raced to catch their breaths.“You really do want everyone fucking hear you. Jesus, what a sight you are."
Shigaraki’s whole body tensed, nails raking the wood as he lost control, a scarred hand coming just in time to muffle the guttural scream tearing from his throat. Dabi’s grin was cruel and satisfied as he drove deeper, fucking Shigaraki right to the edge and over.
As every muscle in Tomura’s body tensed, his thighs trembling uncontrollably, eyes rolling back, Dabi watched with dark satisfaction, the sight pushing him closer to his own edge. Tomura began to writhe beneath him, his groans changing into desperate whines, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. All the signs of it all being too much, but Tomura didn't fight back and thus Dabi’s grip tightened possessively around his waist as he kept moving, relentlessly.
“Not done with you yet,” Dabi murmured, voice low and rough, each thrust deliberate and unyielding.
Tomura’s breath hitched painfully, body shaking under him. His eyes were locked on Dabi’s, glossy and half-lidded, his fucked-out expression raw and desperate. Dabis's own hand was still pressed against half his mouth, muffling any sound.
That sight was all Dabi needed. With a low, fierce groan, he pushed over the edge, spilling inside the condom.
They moved together for a moment longer, chests heaving, sweat-slick, and sticky. But soon enough, Dabi rolled off Tomura, smirking as he caught his breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes flicked over Tomura’s trembling form, sweat-slick and spent.
“That was... fucking good,” Dabi muttered, voice rough and low.
Tomura’s cracked lips curled into a tired, crooked smile, eyes heavy but sharp. “Yeah,” he rasped, voice raw. “Guess practice does make perfect.”
Dabi snorted, the sound low and amused.