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get-shiggy-with-it · 2 years

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RESTORATION AND 18TH CENTURY LIT. - COLLEGE AU!TOMURA X READER

✧ pairing: college student!shigaraki x fem!reader | a little bit of shigadabi

✧ word count: 21.3k | AO3 Mirror

✧ warnings: Shigaraki being an asshole, lowkey kinda hates women, fem reader only because he refers to her as female (derogatory) like once gender neutral pronouns for reader though the few times its used, Angst and Fluff and Smut Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, college au no quirks, dabi is a little shit, dirty talk, swearing, like so much, vaginal se, vaginal fingering, oral sex, virgin shigaraki, loss of virginity degradation, mentions of lactation kink, brief exhibitionism

✧ summary: He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch.And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. Fucking disgusting.

Or Tomura get's paired up with you for a big final project in some bullshit English class he needs to graduate and quickly discovers that he even though he kinda hates women, he hates you a little bit less. And also really wants to stick his dick in you.

✧ a/n: First off yes this is a repost. Second: Happy birthday to the best boy and happy birthday to this fic (and also this blog)! In celebration of all the occasions and because I didn’t have time for anything else, I’ve compiled the entire R18CL main series here in one place. It was the first real shigs fic I’ve written and still one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever done. I think you can tell how much my writing has improved just in this year from reading this, but I love it how it is, so enjoy~ And finally, it goes without saying, don’t fucking rec this anywhere else.

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming.

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more.

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?”

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair.

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie.

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late.

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest.

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled.

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in.

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class.

Of fucking course you did.

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall.

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of.

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that.

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule.

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you.

Fucking disgusting.

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top.

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica.

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist.

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D.

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working.

This was going to be a nightmare.

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again.

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging.

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not.

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy.

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for.

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence.

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell.

And god if he thought you were irritating.

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop.

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions.

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier.

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A.

That walking condescension on the other hand—

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask.

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it.

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.”

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression.

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence.

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees.

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with baited breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing.

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did.

“Really? Well they should.”

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head.

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.”

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie.

God just talking to you made his skin burn.

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see.

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed.

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option.

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else.

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.”

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up.

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever.

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch.

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long.

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either.

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something.

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat.

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.”

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out.

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support.

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day.

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge.

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.”

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.”

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks.

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him.

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity.

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff?

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him.

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension.

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware.

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers.

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone.

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either.

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours.

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand.

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students.

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text.

Sent at 2:47 pm:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality.

---

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen.

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library. But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him.

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering.

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant.

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

sounds good—

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating.

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right?

He wasn’t sure.

He didn’t do shit like this.

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.”

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager.

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door.

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors.

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit.

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor.

You made a fucking power point for him.

This couldn’t be real.

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…”

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in.

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga.

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations.

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts.

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him.

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen.

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled.

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for.

It was...good.

And that so fucking annoying.

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids.

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and—

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.”

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to.

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday.

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze.

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into.

“What’s your major?”

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before.

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear.

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment.

But, obviously you didn’t.

So he didn’t.

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope.

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut.

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side.

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case.

“Are you talking about The League?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings.

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger.

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought.

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone.

You should narrate those fucking sleep time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much.

Or no, no he would definitely mind.

Yes. It would have been worse if anything.

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.”

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room.

Weird.

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence.

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at.

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit afterall. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere?

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word.

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head.

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard.

It...grew on him.

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session.

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack.

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room.

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing.

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly.

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction.

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous.

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.”

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly.

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin’ study room whenever I want.”

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.”

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.”

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.”

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward.

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers.

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.”

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations.

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach.

But it was only because you were hot.

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background.

Yeah.

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough.

Right?

---

Dabi’s mouth was wet and so fucking warm as he swallowed around Tomura’s dick.

“Oh fuck…” he groaned as Dabi hummed around his length and did that thing where he flicked the ball of his tongue ring over Tomura’s slit.

Bright blue eyes stared up through deceptively long lashes, smirking at the way Tomura drooled as he got his soul sucked out the tip of dick. The mattress underneath him creaked at the negligible weight of both their bodies. Dabi settled on his stomach between Tomura’s pale thighs leaving fingerprint bruises in soft flesh.

They did this sometimes, though he wasn’t not quite sure when exactly it started. Dabi had been his randomly assigned roommate freshman year and he grew so used to living with him that the two of them had just silently, yet mutually agreed not to fuck something up that wasn’t broken. They both berated each other for their strange and somewhat disgusting habits—Dabi would say that Tomura was a gross shut in creep who needed a fucking shower and Tomura called Dabi out on his slutty pastimes and obsession with piercing the hell out of every available inch of skin.

And sometimes they sucked each other off.

It was overall not a terrible arrangement—Dabi got his fill of dick and Tomura could no longer be made fun of for being completely inexperienced. Plus, as much as he was loathe to admit, Dabi was really fucking good at oral. Like, demonically good. He’d been going down on Tomura for so long now too that he’d learned all the things that had him spilling onto that pierced tongue in minutes.

Tomura jerked from his thoughts when two, lube slicked fingers prodding at his ass.

“Dabi, what the fuck are you—” he protested, wiggling his scrawny hips up the bed and inadvertently letting his cock slip out of the inviting heat between his roommate’s lips.

He couldn’t see much other than the shaking mop of black hair and pale hands with chipped black nail polish digging into his legs and yanking him back.

“Shut up freak,” Dabi slurred, words slick with spit and Tomura’s precum. Dabi said it tasted like battery acid, but it never stopped him from guzzling it like he did with cheap whiskey and cigarettes on the weekends. “I know you like it.”

He did like it but he wasn’t about to contribute to the fucking manic grin Dabi was giving him as he circled the tight ring of muscle, slipping in a finger to the first knuckle.

Tomura’s head flopped back on the pillows as he bit back a low moan, “Fuck off.”

“If you say so,” Dabi shoved his finger in roughly, squeezing a second in behind it and letting Tomura bask in the burn of being stretched too quickly before ripping his hands away.

“No!” Tomura wailed pretty fucking shamelessly and grabbed the retreating wrist, placing Dabi’s tatted hand back on his dick that throbbed and leaked painfully.

“Dude, what’s gotten the fuck into you?” his roommate asked, smirking still, but pumping his cock loosely nonetheless. “Our walls are thin as hell, you know I can hear you jerkin it in here every night, and now you’re practically begging for me to suck you off. Usually I gotta come to you.”

He was infuriatingly right again.

Tomura had indeed asked for him to do this, which was definitely out of character for him. Most of the time they ended up in this position, it was because Dabi spent hours hounding him about it or just fucking dropped to his knees and whipped Tomura’s cock out in the middle of a movie night or snuck into his room while Tomura was gaming and swallowed him whole just to laugh at the way his online friends reacted to the noises.

He’s just been so pent up lately, and you insisting on fucking touching his arm or sitting on the floor between his feet at League meetings was really not helping it.

“I don’t know,” Tomura lied, both to Dabi and himself in the hopes that the head of black hair would just go back to bobbing on his dick like he so desperately needed it to.

“Bro, I have fucked with enough people to know when they’re wishing I was someone else,” Dabi scoffed and ran a blessedly hot tongue from base to tip and suckled softly at the blush pink head before pulling back with a wet pop. “So who is it?”

“I’m not fucking thinking about anyone,” Tomura hissed, fisting Dabi’s spiky, black locks and thrusting into his mouth till he felt the contractions of Dabi gagging around his length. “Usually you're jumping at the chance to get dick in your mouth, so why does it matter?”

Dabi pulled back, wiping the silvery string of spit leaking past his lips away and scowling as his fingers ghosted over Tomura’s balls and sank back into his pliant ass.

“Seriously creep, I’m five seconds away from ghosting and you can fuck your hand like the sad little bitch you are. So tell me their name or I’m walking right now.”

Tomura huffed as he felt Dabi’s long, rough fingers pulled from him again and the heat of his mouth growing farther away.

“Ugh fine, it’s that bitch I’ve been working on the English thing with.”

Dabi made a face like his brain was buffering.

“Seriously?” he asked, mouth gaping in a way that had Tomura even more furious his dick wasn’t buried in it.

“Yes!” he shouted and grabbed Dabi’s cheeks in both hands, sinking past his waiting lips and practically purring when he felt them close around the base as his long tongue massaged the shaft. “Oh god yes…”

Dabi rolled his eyes, managing to look smug even with a cock stretching his lips taught against the piercings. He used to try and tease Tomura about how small his dick was, but it was hard to believe him. Especially with how he choked sometimes when Tomura got rough with him despite his boasts of lacking a gag reflex. Not to mention how he looked now, jaw probably aching with the stretch and loving every second of it.

Tomura lazily bucked his hips up and whined high when the fingers in his ass curled and thrust against that fucking spot he hadn’t known was there until Dabi found it for him.

The pleased sound he made tapered off into a growl though, when his roommate with questionable benefits pulled off again to run his slutty fucking mouth.

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled, kitten licking at Tomura’s cock and running the ball of his piercing through the slit again. Tomura gulped when he pulled it back into his mouth to swallow the bead of precum he’d collected. “I’ve seen your fucking paramour around before, pretty serious about school though. And Kinda out of your league too, not gonna lie. So, what would you do if your cute little partner was here instead?”

Tomura bristled at the insult but couldn’t keep his pissed off look when Dabi went back to sucking his cock like a pro and curling those fucking fingers against his prostate. When he did speak, he blushed hard at the way his voice cracked and sounded like he was crying.

“I don’t fucking—holy shit—know,” he gasped and Dabi hummed both to egg him on and to get a whole new wave of precum gushing out of Tomura’s dick.

“C’mon man,” Dabi groaned, and Tomura distinctly heard the sound of a pants zipper and felt Dabi’s hips canting against the sheets.

That fucking masochistic whore. He would get off to Tomura dirty talking about someone else while he sucked his dick.

He considered stopping the whole thing right there, but then Dabi was sinking a third finger into his ass and thrusting hard while he hallowed his cheeks around Tomura’s cock and sucked—

“Tits!” Tomura cried and covered his burning, red cheeks with his hands. “I want to put my fucking face in them and taste them in my mouth. Sometimes I can see the outline of their nipples when we’re working and the air conditioning comes on and I want to suck on them so fucking bad I can’t think about anything else the whole night.”

Once he got started, Tomura found the words just spilled from him like a dam had burst. Dabi, the depraved bastard, groaned loud and ground his pierced dick harder against the mattress as he continued to deep throat Tomura’s cock and fuck his ass at the perfect angle.

“Sometimes when they drag me to their stupid club I lose the rounds cause I—oh god, oh fuck—just imagine them in my lap, sitting on my cock and fucking writhing and squeezing me while we face off. Such a fucking—Dabi more!—stereotypical try-hard, bitch but I want to be inside them so fucking bad,” he felt actual tears stinging the raw corners of his eyes when Dabi sped up on his dick.

Tomura scrapped his nails against Dabi’s scalp, holding on for dear life as his breathing became even more ragged than usual. His friend’s cruelty streak reared its ugly head as Dabi sensed the tensing of Tomura’s balls and the clench of his tight ass and slowed down a fraction, keeping him teetering on the edge of an explosively pleasurable release.

“Fucking asshole,” he growled, but didn’t dare try to fuck Dabi’s face lest he make good on his threat to leave Tomura high and dry. “I just—shit, ah, don’t stop—they talk to me sometimes and I just wanna suck their tongue into my mouth so they shut up and I need to hear them fucking falling apart for me or using that stupid, stuck up teacher voice on me and fucking my ass—Dabi Fuck—is that what you wanted to hear?”

Dabi, because he got off on being a little shit, gave him one last delicious swallow before pulling back and fisting Tomura’s sopping wet cock. The fingers had stopped thrusting and were now pressed hard against his prostate, sending shocks through his body and making him twitch violently as his blood rushed with endorphins. He never stopped grinding his own dick against Tomura’s cotton sheets the whole time.

“You got it bad huh, don’t ya creep,” he mused, letting a fat glob of spit fall from his lips and keep his palm slick. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about fucking anything, much less another actual person.”

“No I fucking don’t, “ Tomura writhed against the pillows, giving in to the undeniable urge to simultaneously fuck up into Dabi’s hand and ride his fingers.

“Who knew you were such a desperate whore, falling for the first person to show you a modicum of attention,” Dabi jeered and squeezed the tip of his dick hard, listening to Tomura let out a choked sob. “I’m actually kinda proud of you, bro. My little neckbeard baby’s growing up.”

Dabi cooed at Tomura, sinking sharp teeth deep into the meat of his thigh and sucking a bruise into the flesh.

“You’re the one—nghh—getting off on it,” Tomura clapped back but didn’t bother denying it again.

There was a sense of dread growing in his gut alongside the mounting pleasure of his orgasm that Dabi was currently holding hostage. Dabi may have had a dickish personality just as massive as the actual dick that was currently painting Tomura’s comforter in stains, but he knew him.

And he did, admittedly have much more experience with these types of things than Tomura.

“Fuck yeah I am,” Dabi grunted. “Last time I let you return the favor you bit my fucking cock. I gotta get off somehow.”

“Don’t say rude shit to me and I won’t bite you.”

“Watch it, Tomura,” Dabi huffed and nipped at his thigh again. “You should be thanking me for my services.”

“Not if you’re gonna keep running your mouth instead of sucking me off,” he tried to sound intimidating but he was well and truly wrecked and couldn’t find the energy to give his words an edge.

“You should ask them out,” Dabi continued, ignoring Tomura’s failed attempts at banter. “Bring ‘em over or some shit. Maybe then if I lock down that blonde piece of ass I’ve been talking to, we’ll both have much more interesting things to go down on.”

“Your whore ass is the one always jumping me, don’t act like it’s a fucking chore,” Tomura groaned as Dabi started licking at his cock again, pressing sloppy, half kisses on the tip as he jerked it in his fist.

“Not my fault I get bored sometimes,” he replied and closed his eyes as Tomura clenched particularly hard around Dabi’s relentless fingers. “But seriously, you should go for it. I’d kill to find out if you’re just as bad at eating pussy as you are sucking dick.”

“Fuck y—” Tomura started to say when Dabi reared up till they were chest to chest and their foreheads knocked together.

“I fucking will if you don’t shut up, creep, and I think it’d be so much better if you handed your fucking virginity to that pretty little partner bitch instead,” he said and stunned Tomura into silence when he licked into his mouth.

Dabi had kissed him before, but Tomura could count the number of occasions on one hand and almost all had been when his punk ass roommate was drunk as hell and in his feels about some tortured past. But Dabi’s eyes were bright and lucid now, blinking down at Tomura as he dragged their tongues together, flooding his mouth with the faint taste of cigarettes and jizz.

Their cocks brushed together too, the stimulation making Tomura whine into Dabi’s lips, who dropped a merciful hand down, taking them both in his fist and began pumping.

He didn’t stop as he pulled back, grinning down at Tomura like a fucking maniac—all shitty tattoos and silver piercings. The little barbels that stuck through Dabi’s nipples brushed against his own and made him moan at the cool metal and hot skin on his sensitive chest. Tomura was fucking sensitive everywhere, as Dabi had helped him discover, probably from a lifetime of being touched more by cheap sweatshirts than human hands.

“Now,” Dabi grunted as he thrust loosely against Tomura’s cock and his own fist before pulling away to settle back between his legs. “Shut up and cum down my throat—gotta give your virgin ass a refresher on mind shattering orgasms, so you know if that bitch is any good or not.”

Tomura’s tongue was halfway around a witty comeback when Dabi swallowed him to the hilt once again and started working his ass even harder. He really fucked hoped the neighbors were not home to hear him get his shit rocked at 2pm on a fucking Tuesday, cause Dabi might have been flunking out of his classes but he’d get a goddamn a plus for sucking dick.

The hand on his thigh, spreading him open, migrated to his hip so that Tomura could snap his legs shut hard around Dabi’s ring littered ears as he guided Tomura to grind down on his hand. The pressure in his gut built up exponentially higher now that Dabi wasn’t trying to hold him on the edge of climax. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to acquiesce to Dabi’s request, as he tightened up in a full body clench before gripping Dabi’s hair and spilling rope after rope of hot, sticky release straight onto his roommate’s tongue.

Dabi, the fucking slut, made a show of swallowing every drop that spilled from Tomura’s abused cock, milking his prostate the whole time and only letting Tomura slip from his mouth when he was soft and finally spent.

The fingers in his ass remained though, still for the most part and slowly dipping in and out every so often. Tomura whimpered and clenched but was somewhat thankful for the remaining feeling of fullness.

“So, did you really mean all that?” Dabi asked with his signature smirk. “You really want your group project partner to cockwarm you and fuck your tight little ass?”

“Fuck off,” Tomura scowled and smacked Dabi hard across the face with an errant pillow.

Dabi yanked it from his grasp and tossed his ammunition onto the floor. “Hey, it’s not actually too bad in here,” he wiggled his fingers for emphasis which elicited an embarrassingly high gasp from Tomura, “give ‘em my number if you need a reference for asshole tightness.”

“Get the fuck out of my ass and my room,” Tomura kicked at Dabi’s back as it shook with laughter that lacked it’s usual sneering bite.

“What? Saving the cuddles for your new S/O?” he shot back and nuzzled his cum and spit covered face into Tomura’s neck.

With their chests pressed together, Tomura could feel the cooling, sticky remnants of Dabi’s own release coating his stomach. He squirmed against the feeling and pushed at the offending chest until his friend flopped down onto the scant space left between the mattress and the wall.

“Ew,” Tomura ran a finger through the mess Dabi had left smeared on him. “I’m taking a fucking shower.”

“God, finally!” Dabi exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and producing a cigarette from god knows where. He let the paper rest between his lips unlit. “I should have thought about getting you fucked out on the reg earlier, creep, if it’ll stop you smelling like ass.”

Tomura launched the discarded pillow which hit it’s mark with a dull thump.

“You better be fucking gone when I get back,” he hissed and stumbled naked, on shaking legs into the hall and to their shared bathroom.

Dabi’s cackling followed him until the door shut and the lock clicked behind him. Tomura turned the water on quickly, letting steam cloud the mirror before he jumped under the spray. The only products on the shelves were Dabi’s for the most part with the exception of a store brand bar of soap and some 3 in one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

Tomura new he should clean himself more often, but his skin was so fucking raw all the time it hurt to do, so he mostly avoided it unless the smell got really unbearable—or Dabi was painting him in jizz whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He tried to get in and out as quickly as possible so he didn’t have the opportunity to think too hard about the admission his fuck buddy roommate had pulled from him mid blow job. Because if he did, in his post nut, clingy state, he’d most certainly imagine you were with him, tits pressed against his back and your soft, insistent tongue dipping past his lips, tasting like fruit gum and expensive cafe drinks instead of nicotine and cum.

And he really couldn’t handle that, cause Dabi was right, he had something fucking bad for you and the thought of another rejection loomed large.

When he did towel himself off and shuffle, still naked back into his bedroom Dabi was nowhere to be seen. Tomura’s phone however, was left sitting right next to the jizz stain on his sheets. He frowned at the open balcony door where Dabi was no doubt smoking and snatched the device before tumbling onto the pillows.

He powered it on and scrolled through his notifs before one caught his eyes. You and Dabi were really the only people that ever texted him, but the contact name above this one had changed.

bitch (endearing)

— hey, starting an impromptu round of Smash soon if you’re interested <3

The stupid text heart made his chest throb and he stared at Dabi’s new nickname for you, not even noticing the fucking grin that tugged at his cheeks.

He bit his lip to stop the twitching when it pulled too hard at the chapped skin and scrambled for his clothes before shooting a quick confirmation text back. Tomura opted for his only pair of black jeans this time instead of sweats and the least stained sweatshirt he owned.

Dabi peaked around the corner when he heard the clink of Tomura’s keys. The bastard was smoking in just a pair of underwear that left half his ass on display for all the whole fucking street. He smirked, quirking his eyebrows and bringing his hands up to slip his index finger through the circle of his middle and thumb on the other hand in a silent, vulgar gesture.

“Screw off,” Tomura shouted over his shoulder and made for the door.

“Wrap it before you tap it, bro!” Dabi called after him, cut off by the slamming door.

Tomura took the stairs two at a time, pulling out his phone and tucking the hood over his damp hair, this time to hide the growing smile playing at his lips.

---

Your project was almost complete.

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was, by nature, a creature of habit, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair.

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out.

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down.

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait.

hey would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?—

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop—

It wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like.

bitch (endearing)

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way.

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner for you to text back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside.

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table.

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in.

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink.

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over.

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot.

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe.

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat.

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.”

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye.

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked.

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar.

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and loose tank top. He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate.

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door.

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips.

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off.

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—”

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door.

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face.

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird.

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment.

“Yeah…”

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls.

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony.

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it.

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his work, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was lit only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light.

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them.

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program.

And just like that.

It was over.

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered.

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he just rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded.

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk, hands resting way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product.

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a little swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition.

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah.

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it and used your position as an excuse to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff. In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder.

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be.

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.”

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath and he knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that tis was just a thing people say when they’re relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in.

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before.

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer.

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see the way he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up just enough scant courage to maybe close the gap, but then you started laughing?

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else.

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but—

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him.

You were fucking kissing him.

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones, like he was supposed to.

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning.

God but when you pulled back and just enough to look him in the eye—

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main character’s look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes—

Yeah.

Yeah he got it now.

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting.

“Eager are we?” you have that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him.

And Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when your licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle. Did other people always taste this good or was it just you?

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you licked at the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress.

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again.

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.”

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum.

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that sorta thing.”

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you.

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?“ you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was kinda a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.”

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character.

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.”

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, towing with the pooling saliva.

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.”

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman. He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe him unless he walked through the door right now.

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled away, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest.

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

---

“I don’t—”

He couldn't finish the sentence, not when you were grinding down on him like that. How the hell did you even know how to move your hips in those little circles? Was there some Being a Massive Slut for Dummies book he was missing out on or?

“C’mon, Tomura, we’ve been through this,” you sighed and leaned down to such a trail of sloppy kisses from his jaw to his ear, biting down on the soft flesh, “I know you’ve been thinking so much nasty shit about me, the least you can do is let me hear it.”

Those hands on his chest were moving again, curling into the hem of his t-shirt and tugging until it was over his head and tossed aside on the floor. On an embarrassing instinct, Tomura’s hands shot up to cover himself, only stopped when you leaned onto your haunches and tugged off your own.

“Shit,” Tomura whispered.

You weren’t wearing anything underneath.

He drank in the sight of those cute fucking tits he’d only ever caught glimpses of through those low cut tops you always wore. You grinned down at him, both hands coming up to play with your chest, fingers pinching and rolling the pretty buds. Tomura felt drool slip from the corner of his mouth.

“Is that all you got?”

He wasn’t completely in control of his body as it catapulted off the bed to smash his face between your squished up tits, but neither of you were complaining if the sounds that followed were any indication. You hummed happily as he pressed his cheeks to the warm, soft flesh and his lips closed around your nipple, sucking and laving his tongue over the pebbled skin.

“You really wanted everyone to see these, huh?” he meant the words to have more bite but it was hard with your fucking boob in his mouth.

And he wasn’t looking to stop suckling at you anytime soon so….

“They’re nice tits, what can I say,” you shot back and he couldn’t wait to have you fucked so stupid all those witty one-liners would die on your tongue.

You fucking tasted so good. He hadn’t ever thought that tits would have a fucking taste but it was like some odd combination of skin and spit and it was addictive.

“Got a whole fucking eye full that first time you talked to me in class,” he growled, sinking his teeth in hard enough to leave a mark around your nipple. “Fucking parading them around every time you leaned over. Thought you were so fucking desperate for attention.”

If you really wanted to know all the vile, gross shit he thought on the daily then who was he to deny you that pleasure.

Cause you were definitely feeling some type of way about it based on the way your fingers threaded through his hair and held him to your chest as he tongued and bit at the skin.

“Think I’m just a stupid attention whore, is that it?” you moaned when he switched breasts, palm kneading at the one he’d abandoned.

“I think you’re a useless slut who’ll do anything to get a guy to fucking look your way,” Tomura gasped and sunk his teeth in again.

A shiver ran through him at the whine leaving your lips.

He did that.

He needed to do more of that immediately.

“You like it when I call you a fucking slut?”

Tomura didn’t know what came over him in that moment—what weird spirit of horny confidence possessed his body—but suddenly, with a surge of motion, his hand left your chest and latched onto the smooth column of your throat. The move had actually been quite graceful until he tried to flip your positions and got his legs tangled with yours, resulting in more of a...sexy pile than the smooth transition of power he was going for.

You didn’t seem to mind though.

You never did.

Tomura guessed if he was going to admit something nice about you, then it would be that at least you were consistent.

“I do like it when you call me that,” you breathed into his ear, hands under his arms to haul him back over top of you and replace the hand at your throat with a smirk, “and you love that it’s true.”

Fuck.

He really did, now that he thought about it. All those message boards always talked about finding virgins who you could mold to your dick just like they were meant to be, but…he was so fucking anxious at the best of times, having those eyes that pissed him off and knew it made this so much more fun.

There was probably a more eloquent word than that, and you would probably more than willing to supply it, but the goal was to shut you up and he wasn’t gonna be okay with just coasting this time.

“God, you need to learn how to shut the fuck up,” he spat and subsequently yelped as you leaned forward, licking a wet trail up his chest before latching onto one of his nipples.

The flushed, pink skin disappeared into the heat of your mouth, leaving his dick twitching violently in his pants that had grown too tight and damp for comfort. The languid motion of your tongue over the rapidly pebbling flesh and the goldilocks perfect way in which you nipped at him was enough to corroborate all your claims of experience. With the constant, electric spark pleasure running from his chest to his pants, Tomura found formulating sentences a little challenging, so he just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Why don’t we give you something even better to with that fucking whore mouth, hm?”

It was cliche as hell, stolen straight from one of the admittedly plentiful pornos he’d watched in his day, but you just grinned and popped off his nipple, nodded frantically at the innuendo.

Those clever little fingers that seemed to type without ever stopping dropped to the waistband of his sweats and tugged them down his thighs. He kicked a bit awkwardly to get them off his ankles but you were already yanking the elastic of his boxers. You smiled up at him through your lashes as you tucked the fabric just under his balls and let your eyes wander slowly from his splotchy red chest to the patch of hair just at the base of his dick.

If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought you were drooling.

Tomura felt a bit more in his element here, having had some actual frame of reference—as his asshole roommate was so generous to provide—so he didn’t waste any time. Falling onto his back, he squirmed up the sheets until his head was resting on a pillow and you were crawling between his thighs. God and you and you had your ass up too, wiggling it back and forth like you were wagging your tail at just the thought of getting his cock in your mouth.

Well, since you were so eager, Tomura decided to jump right in. You seemed to like things a bit rough anyway, so he reached out, burying a hand roughly in your hair and plunging in.

The cute and kinda disgusting choking gasp you let out was addictive.

And now he fucking knew Dabi was lying about his dick being small, cause you had a big fucking mouth to talk all that shit and it was absolutely stuffed full. Your lips were stretched obscenely not even halfway down his shaft and your eyes were already pricked with tears at the edges. The fucking feel of your mouth was like how he imagine silk might feel, if it was soaked and scorching. Your throat constricted around him as you gagged and oh it was fucking cock sucking heaven he was in.

Tomura was almost tempted to grab his phone and snap a—

Actually, that was a fucking great idea.

His free hand fumbled for his pants, closing around his phone and unlocking it while you hummed and pulled back, bobbing your head twice before sinking back down, Your eyes flew open when the camera flash lit up the dark corner of his room. He could feel you trying to move away, to snap at him for taking his little keepsake but he quickly fisted your hair and bucked his hips up to keep you firmly on his dick.

“Oh no, you were so eager to suck me off, you’re gonna finish the fucking job before you breathe again,” he panted, holding the sides of your face and fucking your mouth in earnest.

He’d found it easy to simply follow the instinctive rhythm of his hips, constantly seeking out the wet heat source. Your eyes rolled back in your goddamn as his length slid past your lips over and over again

Holy shit it felt so good.

And it felt even better when he could see how much you loved it.

How much you loved his filthy fucking almost virgin cock shoved down your throat and he finally felt the vulgar dam in his mind break.

“I think about you all the time,” he gasped, keening high when you ran your tongue over his slit on ever upstroke, just how he liked it. “I lay here at night and fuck my hand and think about sinking into your tight fucking cunt. I wanna fill you up so bad, it’s the only thing on my mind whenever I talk to you.”

The only thing stopping him from cumming straight down your throat in that moment was sheer horny force of will.

“When you mouth off in class, all I hear is you just begging for someone to bend you over and fuck that cocky fucking arrogance right out of you,” below him, you reached a hand up, pinching hard at his nipple and humming at the squeal he made. “Fuck, and I want eat your pussy while you’re up there presenting this shit, so I can watch you try and keep it together so know one else knows what a fucking whore you are for me. Such a fucking slut for me.”

Something was washing over him, some weird, intense revelation of something that perhaps he’d always known but just needed the motivation of a fucking earth shattering blowjob to work out of him—that he wanted you. Really wanted you. Felt entitled to you. He’d spent so much mental energy obsessing over it, that really, no one else fucking deserved to touch you but him.

No one else would want you this much.

No one else would want him this much.

Your hands had found their way to his thighs and they were rubbing sweet little circles into the soft skin.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you?” his voice was wrecked, even more than usual, from the near constant string of high pitched whining “You’d love to have me fucking ruin you, make you cum all over my tongue in front of everyone. Let them fucking know who does that shit to you.”

You managed a nod, even with his cock buried deepdeepdeep in your throat. And Tomura was fucking twitching at the thought. The muscles in his legs jumped under your touch. A slimy mix of spit and precum was gushing down his length, slipping over his balls and slicking his ass. It was sloppy and the room was so full of the wet slap of his hips against your mouth.

It was so much, too much, oh shit, shit he didn’t want to cum like this—

“Wait, wait!” he cried, back arching with the agony of leaving the plush paradise between your lips. “Please—I wanna cum in you.”

You looked up at him, head hanging from his grip in your hair, with your jaw slack and dripping and nodded. He felt as though his ribs were lined with magnets that pulled him into your outstretched arms, kneeling as he pressed his mouth frantically to yours, uncaring of the mess of the faint taste of bitter precum.

There was something frantic in the air, like a switch had been flipped. The need to feel you, to be connected at every point— to get just a little bit more of what he’d earned—grew stronger with every passing second.

His lips were rough and raw and stung when you licked them but that only made it sweeter. You tongued at his teeth and sucked him into your mouth like he was warm food after months without. It was needy. Needy and ragged because you needed him.

You needed him.

What a fucking thought that was.

Your pants were quickly discarded along with his boxers, and for the first time in his life, Tomura didn’t care about all the exposed skin. He didn’t think about all the unsightly patches of irritation or scaring, because you never had. Not once had you ever stared or commented and you weren’t starting now. Your hands smoothed over every inch of him, just as desperate like he always knew you would be.

Because you were so—

Perfect.

Fucking disgusting.

Tomura let you fall back onto the mattress and whimpered at the feeling of your thighs hitched around his waist. He made the mistake of letting his eyes leave your mouth to glance down and oh, oh he was enraptured.

Dabi was right, he’d never actually seen a pussy in real life and holy shit.

His fingers gravitated immediately to your lips, fucking soaked, soaked in arousal that had smeared on your thighs.

“You get this fucking hot just from my cock in your mouth?” he asked, grinning as he collected some of the slick on his fingers and brought them curiously to his mouth.

Delicious.

“Yes—fuck—yes!” you whined and pulled him closer with your thighs.

“You want me to fuck you that bad?” his fingers ghosted over where he thought your clit might be and was rewarded when you moaned low as he brushed over a raised little bud. “Does this nasty little slut want me that fucking bad?”

“Please Tomura…” his name on your tongue was better than any crazy ass party drug Dabi ever brought home, “you have no fucking idea how long I’ve been wanting you so fucking deep in me—”

Your words cut off with a sob as he ran his fingers down, searching for your entrance and sinking in hard when he found it. And it was so nice in there. So fucking hot.

“What are you?” he asked, thrusting his fingers in and out, trying to remember how Dabi did it to him and what felt good.

He plunged them deep and curled up towards your belly and you sobbed, “A fucking slut!”

God he was so glad no one else was here to hear that.

This was just for him.

“And who’s fucking slut are you?”

He really could help himself, he just wanted to hear it so fucking bad.

“Yours,” you whined and rolled your hips down so his thumb caught on your clit and. “I’m your fucking slut!”

“Shit,” he rasped and ripped his fingers from you.

He wasn’t entirely conscious of his movements. There was just one, very loud voice, screaming in his head to bury his cock in that perfect fucking heat and suddenly his was gripping himself and pushing in and—

“Ahh, fucking god,” Tomura whimpered, body going limp as his tip was sheathed fully inside you.

His forehead dropped down to rest against yours, arms like half cooked pasta on either side of your head, failing to hold him up. You brought your arms up, sliding fingers through his hair and down his back as your ankles locked right above his ass to urge him forward.

Tomura’s cock sunk in inch by inch until he bottomed out with a groan. His mouth moved even when the rest of him couldn’t

“So tight…” he mumbled, head slipping into the crook of your neck and sucking lightly at the skin, feeling the comfort of it in his mouth. “Didn’t think it’d be this tight.”

“Are you trying to insult me or were you just a virgin?” you huffed out, but there was a laugh bubbling just behind the words.

He weakly held up to fingers to indicate the second, dropping them immediately to clutch at the sheets when you clamped down on his cock, nestled sweetly against your cervix.

“Wait really?” you asked, hands skimming up his back to grip his cheeks.

Tomura tried to hide himself in your shoulder, because the fucking dopey ass smile on his face would surely feed your ego and he didn’t need you knowing that your pussy had him fucking higher than a goddamn kite.

If only his bones hadn’t suddenly taken on all the physical properties of jello.

“I’ve fucked around before,” he said, which was technically true, “just never...like this.”

He didn’t even need to move—which, well, wasn’t entirely true he was burning with the urge to drive himself frantically into your dripping cunt—but he was so blissed out from just the soft, warm, tight hug of your walls around his cock that pulsed precum with ever clench, was enough.

What he wouldn’t give to have this all the time. Have you constantly sitting on his cock, keeping him warm and hard and cumming inside you.

At the reminder of why exactly he’d set out to do this, his body regained a bit of it’s former solidity.

“Oh,” you began, voice strained and hips shaking with the effort of not rocking back on his dick. “Well, you feel fucking amazing—”

Tomura cut you off with an experimental thrust. He pulled all the way back, watching as his tip just nearly popped out of your cute fucking hole and then snapped in again. You were a fucking mess above him, gripping at the pillows and then at his arms, dragging red scratches down the pale, fragile skin there.

It only spurred him on.

“You like that? Like my huge fucking cock in you?” he growled, flopping down so he could feel your nipples brush against his while he railed into you.

As much as you apparently enjoyed hearing all the filth that spewed from him, he really liked having a receptacle for it all. It had been hidden inside him for so long, the release was only made sweeter with the addition of your slutty fucking pussy clenching at every word.

“So fucking big, Tomura—”

You rocked up to slip your tongue into his mouth again, sucking softly at his rough lower lip and drinking down all the less than dominant cries that poured from him as his release grew again. He wasn’t really sure how to get you off, but you seemed to understand the intentions behind his hand wandering to nudge at the space he was driving his cock into.

Those soft fingers held his and guided them up to that nub he’d found before and moved his hand in little, rhythmic circles that had you fucking sobbing into his mouth.

Real tears streaked down your face as you moaned into him, “Oh fuck, yes Tomura, baby, just like that…!”

And for once, he had absolutely no qualms with doing exactly what you said. He wanted—needed—to know what it would feel like for you to cream all over his dick. Wanted to see the stupid fucking face you would make as he ripped you apart on his definitely massive length.

You were rocked back into ever thrust, drinking in the sound of slapping skin, mouth permanently attached to his—tongues locked together.

The taste of fruit gum mixed with salty cum and the smell of sweat and sex and cleanlaundryshampoo was fucking everywhere. It was intoxicating and heady and all he had ever needed.

Really, you weren’t so bad when you were crying on his cock.

And you were fucking crying, screaming for him—his name, calling him ‘baby’ in a way that had his heart stuttering uncomfortably in his throat and babbling about how good, how fucking perfect he felt inside.

“C’mon,” he grunted, “c’mon, I wanna see my fucking slut cum for me, all over my cock.”

And for once, you actually followed an order.

His fingers on your clit never gave up and he could fucking feel the orgasm wash over you. Your cunt spasmed and clamped hard like a vice, tighter than anything he ever could have imagined. And you choked out his name, so desperate:

“Tomura, fuck yes baby!”

God your face was so good, all scrunched up and then relaxing into a blissful, panting, open-mouth grin.

It was sort of beautiful.

But he wasn’t gonna fucking say that.

“Good fucking slut,” he said instead, and arched his chest into yours so he could feel the swell of your pretty tits against his chest.

And he almost fucking lost it right there but he needed more, needed to feel full too. The clenching of your pussy was so unmatched by any sensation but he guessed Dabi always called him a greedy whore for a reason.

His hand grabbed at yours—hips only letting up when he couldn’t actively get his dick out of you as you came—and brought it roughly to his lips. Tomura was still slick, covered in spit and sweat but he sucked two of your fingers into his mouth anyway. His tongue delved between them as you watched with wide eyes as he spat onto them and whined.

“I need—oh shit—inside, inside...fuck…”

He could fucking get his tongue to make words but he dragged your hand to his ass and prayed you’d get the hint. Prayed you’d fill him up too.

And you certainly delivered.

His hips started up their unforgiving rhythm again now that you’d rode out your release, slipping even more easily into your pussy with all the slick spilling out of you. God that would be his cum soon—his cum dripping out onto your thighs. Your feet dropped to the bed and Tomura grabbed your waist for leverage.

Your clever little finger circled his hole, wrist bent from the awkward angle below him but working nonetheless. His spit and precum made less than ideal lube but he welcomed the burn of you entering him. A second one joined behind the first and it was rough going for a moment until he was able to rock back fully, finding a certain bend of the knee and half thrust that had him simultaneously grinding into you and fucking himself on your fingers.

And then you managed to get deep enough to brush against that fucking spot, that magic fucking spot that had him seeing stars and screaming your name—not slut, not bitch, not some other fucking cruelty—your name and spilling rope after rope of hot cum against your walls.

Your eyes did that thing where they rolled halfway up and crossed like this was some fucking hentai and you weren’t knuckles deep in his ass while he came inside you.

Tomura went completely limp then, boneless like a cheap chicken wing and collapsed onto your chest, whimpering when your fingers left him empty but comforted by the rhythmic clenching of your cunt, warming his cock and keeping his cum safe inside.

“So good,” you whispered into his hair, soft palms smoothing over his back in slow circles. “Felt so good, Tomura. You were so good.”

He shivered in your arms, lulled by the feeling of your breasts under him and breathing in the mixture of soap and sex that radiated from your skin. Everything about it was strange, but in that wonderful kind of way that new games sometimes were. A tingling at the prospect of a new adventure, a new world, and a new journey to embark on.

You pressed your lips to his sweat slicked forehead and didn’t turn away in disgust.

No, instead you just held him on his cum soaked sheets and slept.

---

Tomura woke about an hour later, dick finally soft and tangled in a knot of limbs with you on his bed. You’d stretched and let him kiss you without asking, accepting his tongue on yours just as easily as you had before.

After detangling yourself from him, you left to take a shower and Tomura found that he couldn’t bare the notion of being apart from you for more than twenty minutes now even more than he couldn’t fucking stand showering, so he’d joined you anyway.

You didn’t talk much and neither did he, but it was that same comfortable silence you’d formed in your little study room hideout. He let you drag him under the spray just long enough to wash most of the jizz and spit from his thighs before he stepped back to lean on the tile and watch as you rinsed yourself.

Only once did you mention the rough, scaly skin on his neck and face. Your hand was gentle, roving over the cracks and asking him if he’d tried any soap for sensitive skin. That yours was like that too and you’d let him borrow some to try out. He blushed at the implication of seeing you again after this.

It was well past midnight when you toweled off and dried him as well. He lent you one of his few clean t-shirts and you wore it without any underwear. Tomura shameless stared at your bare ass when you bent over to strip the ruined comforter from his bed.

He thought about burying himself in you again, and because he hasn’t dressed yet—and you don’t push him away when he presses against you—he does. And you moan for him again when he fucks you from behind, just as rough but it all comes easier the second time around.

You told Tomura, later—when you were both exhausted again and stained with release—he was kinda a natural and something about the praise really got to him.

“You’d fucking know,” he snipped at you, curled on his side with his face in your tits.

This was his new favorite position, he’d decided and he snickered at the thought of planting his face right in your chest while you were both in class. He’d pay money to see the horrified look on your prim fucking face.

“Yes I would,” you hummed into his hairline, mouthing softly at the baby curls around his crown. “So, when are you gonna take me out?”

Tomura felt the loading circle of death spinning in his brain for a moment. Like a 404 error had occurred somewhere in amongst his neural pathways.

“I thought you said you were a slut?” he asked and almost immediately wished he could quit the game, even if it meant he had to replay all the scenes before this moment.

But you didn’t pull away.

You really never do.

He thought idly that you both must have some weirdo bug making you enjoy all the disgusting bits of the other.

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take me on a date if that’s something you’d like,” you chuckled and he felt your chest rise with it and the breath on his forehead.

He nestled his face deeper into your tits, “yeahsurefinewhatever.”

The lips pressed to his head smiled but you didn’t say anything again for a long time. Not until both of you were drifting off again, falling into the trap of shared body heat and the odd human craving of skin against skin.

“Your freaky roommate isn’t going to walk in right?”

Tomura grumbled, mouthing at your nipple and suckling softly, “no, you’re mine now, he can’t have either of us.”

You signed contentedly for a moment, moaning lightly as he swiped his tongue over your sensitive skin before the words caught up to you.

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing, go to sleep.”

You didn’t push it any farther, or remove Tomura from his sucking at your tits. It was quite possibly the most peaceful night of sleep he’d ever gotten, which only ensured the fact that you would never be allowed to sleep anywhere else.

This was your responsibility now, after all, and you fucking loved responsibility so he didn’t see any problems.

Shockingly, Tomura did let you leave the next morning to grab some things from home and change clothes. He watched you walk down the sidewalk from his window and only meandered back into the kitchen when you turned a corner out of sight and the front door slammed open.

Dabi was plopped on the couch when he ventured out, shirtless and absolutely covered in hickeys. Tomura would have commented on it, but he knew he didn’t look much better and didn't want to invite the comparison.

“What the hell got into you, creep?” he asked incredulously, leering from the cushions, looking him up and down.

“I got into bitch (endearing),” he cupped his hands to form parenthesis in the air and grabbed a Monster from the fridge.

Dabi gaped, pushing himself up and not so subtly limping over to cage him against the counter, “No you fucking did not.”

“Did so,” he shot back, knocking his shoulder roughly into Dabi’s chest so he could stalk back into his room. “Looks more like someone got into you.”

You’d put him in such a weirdly pleasant mood, he really didn’t want to give that up, but Dabi was present, the bitch.

“We got into each other,” Dabi huffed, flopping down on Tomura’s bed and ruining your scent on his sheets, “No fucking way you had the balls dude.”

Impulsively—in part because he really needed to ego boost of proving Dabi wrong and to convince himself as well that last night (and this morning) had really happened—Tomura whipped out his phone, flashing that pretty picture of you choking on his dick right into that smug bastards face.

The fucking grin only grew wider.

“I’ll be fucking damned, creep,” he stood from the bed to get a closer look, but Tomura locked the screen quickly and shoved it back in his pocket. “How much did you have to pay her?”

“I don’t know what you have to do to get some,” Tomura scoffed, “but mine was free.”

Dabi looked like he had something smart to say back to that but Tomura didn’t want to hear it.

“Get out,” he called over his shoulder as he took Dabi’s place on his bed, inhaling the little wisps of you left over on the cotton. God he was never gonna wash these.

“Aw, don’t wanna give me all the details?”

He peaked up at Dabi, leaned against his doorframe.

“No, I have to get dressed,” he paused before the next words that left his mouth, hiding his face in the pillow so Dabi wouldn’t see the furious red of blood rushing to his cheeks. “I have a date later.”

---

“Stop fucking squirming,” you leaned forward to bite at Tomura’s lips as he shifted under you.

Your hands were gathering his hair and pulling it in twists to the side, tying the strands away from his face. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but your legs wrapped around his waist as he sat in his desk chair, cock soaked and deliciously warm in your pussy was harder to ignore. Especially when you clamped down on him every time he moved while you worked.

“Then get off my dick,” he snapped, leaning back in the chair for better leverage as he snapped his hips up. You looked straight out of those hentai memes, eyes almost crossing when he pushed you down to meet his thrust. “Fucking greedy slut.”

“Excuse-ah,” this time it was you bouncing on his length unprompted, “me, but I wasn’t the one with my cock out begging cause it was so cold.”

Your tone was entirely too even for his liking, and Tomura frowned as he dug his hands into your hips and made you grind into his lap. He really was dating such a fucking whore.

“Well, if you hadn’t fucking insisted we go to this dumbass party, then I could have fucked you hours ago,” he knew he was pouting, but you’d started meeting every roll of his hips halfway, using your thighs now to start up a slow rhythm. “Maybe don’t take so long picking an outfit next time.”

“I was picking yours asshole,” you caught his lip between your teeth again and sucked.

Joke was on you though, the more you tried to fucking tease him, the deeper he was gonna fuck you.

How d’you like that, bitch?

“What—don’t you dare fucking stop—was wrong with my outfit?”

He could feel spit pooling under his tongue. Your fucking pussy always did this to him, made his mouth water and this thighs shake while you rode him in earnest now, moaning into his ear as he made sure you felt him in your fucking guts.

God, he was never gonna get over that—the sounds you made. The sounds he pulled from you.

“Tomura, baby,” every word was punctuated with a gasp, one of his thumbs drawing those little circles on your clit that he figured out pretty quick made you cry. “I love you—and the easy dick access sweatpants provide—dearly, but your ass looks so fucking good in these jeans.”

Something weird always happened to his chest when you said stupid, cheesy shit like that. He knew that was thing fucking normies said all the time, and he used to gag whenever he heard people in the halls professing their feelings to each other. But whenever you did it, Tomura’s lips just instinctively fought to turn up at the edges and his lungs suddenly forgot what air felt like in favor of dedicating ever braincell in his body to memorizing whatever dumb as hell, sweet thing you said.

“Why does—mm yes fuck...” he stared entranced at his lap where your slutty goddamn pussy swallowed him up and pulsed around his cock with every tight circle drawn on your clit. “Why does it matter how my ass looks?”

You paused while he fought with the neckline of your top so your tits bounced free and he could suck at your nipples. And holy shit, you could call him a baby all you wanted, but he’d never get tired of the fucking taste feel smell of your chest filling his mouth and pressed so nice against his face.

Shit, he’d fucking live in your tits if he could. Suckle at you endlessly until you poured sweet fucking milk onto his waiting tongue.

Cause you told him one time that was a thing that could happen. Swatted his head away when he pawed at you for too long cause apparently if he sucked hard enough all the time—

“Listen, if your cute little boyfriend had the tightest ass on the fucking planet, wouldn’t you want to show that off to all your friends.”

His face lit up. Tomura could feel whatever blood left not pumping through this dick, rush to his cheeks and he buried his face more resolutely in your tits so as not to give you the satisfaction of flustering him.

You fucking cooed at him every time and squished his cheeks up, calling him your baby boy.

Fucking disgusting.

But damn if he didn’t love it.

“Whatever,” he groaned, picking up his pace and drinking down the delicious little whimpers you let out every time his cock met you coming down on his lap. “Shut the fuck up, and take it like a good fucking whore.”

“My fucking pleasure,” you grunted before losing all semblance of attempted hairstyling entirely, letting out a long, low moan as he pummeled that pretty pussy and sped up on your clit.

Tomura would absolutely never admit to it, but fucking you always had him feeling so fucking needy. The second your lips or your cunt were swallowing him up it was like a dam broke and every selfish request just poured out of him.

“Wanna cum,” he mumbled into your breast, whining as your walls fluttered and pulsed.

He knew what that meant now. Tomura was what you called ‘quick on the uptake’ and honed in fast on what it felt like when you started to lose it.

“Yeah? Does my pretty boy want me to make him feel good?”

God fuck yeah.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it out loud but, yes. Tomura was your pretty, baby boy and he needed he sweet fucking bitch to make him bust so deep inside you.

He was about to reach his peak too, teetering on the edge when the pounding started.

And not the fun kind. Not the bend you over his bed and rail you till you couldn’t fucking walk.

No, no, no.

This was balled fist slamming against his door and Dabi’s grating, smoky voice shouting from the hall.

“Could you fornicate later freaks?!” he called through the door. “You’re gonna be fucking late.”

Tomura’s orgasm hurtled to a painful halt and you groaned again—well growled was probably a more appropriate term for the snarl you let out into the crook of his neck.

“Why the hell does it matter to you?!” Tomura shouted back, the force of his voice shifting the angle of his cock. The minute stimulation felt so good he kept up the slow grinding motion.

You groaned again—decidedly much sweeter—and sucked a cheeky fucking mark right on the side of his neck.

“What are you fucking doing?” he hissed to you, but it was Dabi’s voice who answered.

Along with the click of his knob turning.

“Well, it sounded like you were having a hard time getting your bitch off, so I was gonna offer—“

Dabi stopped, taking the split second before the controller Tomura chucked at his head connected to stare fixedly at your bare ass seated on Tomura’s thighs.

“Yes, my bitch, so get the fuck out!” he yelled, coming out a little choked at the end as your slutty self kept grinding on his cock.

“Yeah, and he’s doing a great job,” you mused, languidly raising your head from his shoulder and kissing up his jawline, completely unfazed entirely by the new audience.

Tomura’s brain was ping ponging so hard between rage, cheek burning embarrassment, and being the most turned on he’d ever been in his life.

The things you fucking did to him.

“If you say so sweetheart,” Dabi, also completely unperturbed by watching you grind on his roommates dick, leaned against the doorframe like you all were chatting about the fucking mayoral election.

“I do,” you lifted your hips then, showing off one full bounce that had both Dabi and Tomura’s eyes rolling.

Though the latter was much more annoyed than Tomura could hope to be.

“Fucking show off,” his roommate muttered.

“Isn’t your boyfriend waiting in the kitchen?” you huffed and glared over your shoulder at Dabi in his platform boots and mesh top.

He scowled and flipped the two of you off with chipped, black nails and sauntered back down the hall calling, “not my boyfriend,” as he went.

He left the door wide open.

Tomura almost yelled for him to come back and close it, but you took the silence as an opportunity to start riding him full force and even though you were the one bouncing in his lap, he had to grip your waist and hold on for the ride.

Fucking bitch.

Tomura’s fucking bitch.

You held his hand as you walked across campus to the media building in the budding Spring evening. And that was almost as bad as you saying all those pointless, nice things to him.

Cause people looked, like they watched you linking fingers with that creepy guy in their classes or from the dining hall, and you walked swinging his hand in yours the whole way like it didn’t fucking matter.

Didn’t even occur to you that everyone on campus would know now that the hot chick they saw walking around was with him.

But all those imaginary eyes seemed to melt away as you dragged him behind you, down the old path you both used to take everyday after working in the library. Along the worn concrete sidewalk to the ‘secret door’ in the alley that was perpetually propped open with a copy of the Manifesto, taking two flights of stairs down to the basement and following the soft blue glow to the unofficial layer of The League.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after your both walked through the door.

Tomura recognized most of the people there as friends you introduced him to. You’d met them all through classes or through other friends, forming a close knit group of everyone who knew everyone which was apparent from the way they all cheered when you walked in.

He suddenly was reminded why he never came to shit like this. Not that people were scrambling to invite Tomura Shigaraki to their parties, but his skin itched even when the eyes never focused on him.

Across the room Spinner, the other co-leader of the club, who he knew the best out of everyone, waved at him, and Tomura nodded back. His eyes quickly picked Dabi out of the crowd, leaning off in the corner with a red cup in hand, forehead pushed up against his blond boyfriend’s. Keigo was apparently a reluctant member of the other gaming club on campus—cause of course there was a demand for fucking two—the president of which knew Spinner and who, of course, knew you, which led to Tomura’s asshole, sometimes voyeur roommate being invited along.

Fucking social circles were so needlessly complicated.

Tomura vaguely recognized the other blond guy in the room—Jin was his name? Maybe?—enough to pick his wild, sandy hair out of the crowd, tucked off to the side of the table laden with shitty vending machine snacks. He had his arm slung around someone Tomura had never met before, talking with another short blond girl he didn’t know and Jin’s roommate, Magne. He patted himself on the back for remembering two out of the four names. He also remembered Jin worked at the library, though he hated it, and had been tangentially responsible for hooking the two of you up in that study room, your study room.

Tomura nodded at Jin too as he saw the two of you walk in and enthusiastically shouted some greetings and only one profanity. A new record for him.

Someone else Tomura hadn’t been introduced to shouted from the floor by the gaming set up as Spinner punched the air in triumph in the glow of the victory screen.

“I’m gonna grab us some drinks,” you whispered to him, and he let go of your hand reluctantly, watching as you stopped, doling out hugs to everyone—excluding Dabi—as you went.

He looked around, cast adrift without you to hold him to the dock of social interaction.

It was clear he’d have to find a backup person to cling to for the remainder of the night if you were just gonna fucking abandon him for your friends.

Though Tomura did his best to not be all that salty about it. The residual anger melted a little bit as he watched Magne bear hug you off the floor so hard your back popped. It was only when he felt a hand on his shaking shoulder that Tomura realized he’d been laughing at the spectacle.

Spinner flashed him a toothy smile, arms crossed and watching intently as you pretended to gasp in a breath when Magne finally dropped you from her massive arms.

“Hey man,” he said, wild hair the color of those weird unicorn drinks from that cafe you liked sticking up on end. “How’s it going?”

Tomura shrugged, unsure how to respond without you to fill in the unmediated gaps in conversation.

“Fine, I guess.”

Spinner was not who he would have chosen to hang with all night. Yeah, he knew him the best, but Tomura sorta got the vibes your roommate lowkey hated his fucking guts. And while no one would say he was the master at interpersonal relationships, Tomura could fucking tell when someone didn’t like him. Most of his life till now had been spent in a constant state of snide side eyes and fake politeness.

Maybe that’s why he used to find you so fucking off putting.

But you were different now. He knew you meant all that bullshit. Spinner just wasn’t as good at pretending as he thought he was.

“Nice,” Spinner acted as though he didn’t notice the edge in Tomura’s tone. Or he was just fucking stupid. “I’m glad you guys actually came tonight, I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

He chuckled a bit to soften the blow of that last part, rubbing his neck and smiling sheepishly. Tomura didn’t return the gesture.

“Yeah,” he said simply, kicking at the scuffed linoleum with his sneakers.

He very much wished that you hadn’t tied his hair back so he could hide his face away from Spinner’s stare.

“Listen bro,” that pink head ducked down to catch Tomura’s eye, looking a little bit more guilty now than before. “I know I’ve been kind of a dick lately—and I already talked with them,” he gestured to you, currently pouring some awful, glittery concoction into Jin’s mouth as the smaller blond girl clapped beside you. “But I was just sort of ‘going through it’ for awhile and, well it doesn’t fucking matter, anyway sorry for being such an asshole...”

Tomura’s mouth got dry like it did whenever you hugged him in public or said you liked his eyes. The words drifted around in his head, spitting back error codes as they swirled.

He honestly couldn’t recall a time anyone had ever apologized to him. And he never knew what to say in normal conversation, much less fucking this. Spinner kept looking at him expectantly, but as the silence dragged on, Tomura watched his face falter just a bit.

And that made him feel even worse.

Fuck.

What would you say? Something nice??

“Don’t worry about it,” he blurted—which really was your catchphrase, but he was sure you wouldn’t mind him borrowing it.

“Thanks bro,” Spinner grinned again, this eyes closed, thin lipped thing that made Tomura feel hot just looking into the glow of it. “We’re cool yeah?”

He couldn’t see you, but he could feel that disgusting, proud stare you got every time he elected to order both your drinks when you went out or asked for extra ketchup on his own.

“Whatever, yeah,” Tomura scratched absently at his throat and Spinner jerked his head over to the gaming setup. The Smash music was drifting softly out of twin speakers.

“Wanna play a round?” he asked.

Tomura glanced quickly over at you, now watching as Jin attempted to juggle some of the small snack bags and Magne tossed more flying chips into the mix.

Yeah, you’d probably be awhile.

“...sure.”

It was halfway through the round—in which Tomura was goddamn slaughtering Spinner’s Kirby—that you finally wandered back over to him, two red cups in hand and a few bags of stolen Chex mix.

You set them both down on the small coffee table—also ‘donated’ from the theater department—and plopped next to him on the couch. Spinner growled from the floor, the other club president—The Commission apparently, who the fuck was coming up with these names?—sat kneeled behind him, hands on his shoulders and shouting words of encouragement.

The adrenaline of the fight rushing through him increased exponentially when you gripped his bicep and added your voice to the din.

“Fuck yeah, baby! Kick his fucking ass!”

“Oh wow,” Spinner yelled back. “Now I see where your fucking loyalties lie.”

“Has nothing to do with loyalty,” you laughed. “I just want to see you eat shit for once.”

“Should have come to the big tournament then!” The Commission president chuckled too, looking over their shoulder with a grin.

“Damn, now I’m really sorry I missed it,” you swung your legs up onto the cushions only to tuck them up under yourself as you stared down at the couch. “Ew what the hell is this stain?”

The Commission president was suddenly very much not looking back at you anymore, Tomura noticed. Spinner, at your comment, choked on his fucking spit, not quite dodging Tomura fast enough and tumbling straight off the map.

As Tomura’s character flashed first on the screen you cheered and gripped his face, landing a quick, wet smack of a kiss straight to his fucking lips. Spinner and his friend groaned in unison and there was a chorus of friendly disgust from everyone else gathered around watching.

He could care less.

The air felt strangely alive, people’s gazes flitting over him as though he were part of the scenery. But in a good way this time. Not the purposeful overlooking of his existence, not as though he were an accessory to the room, but a crucial part of it. Like there might be an empty space they would notice if he wasn’t occupying it.

Like he belonged attached to your hand or your hip or just on his own, playing games and drinking shitty juice and laughing at whatever weird as fuck thing Jin shouted at unprompted, random intervals.

Everyone remained gathered by the monitor as you selected your character to face off against him in the next round.

“I’m gonna...” you growled, coming in with an impressive attack and backing out of range, a move signature of yours, “suck your fucking dick!”

“I’m gonna fucking suck yours first, bitch,” he retorted and Magne offered up a kind “hell yeah” in support.

Her large fist came into view over his shoulder, which he found himself bumping against his own without a second thought.

The music filled his ears, the shouting voices no longer suffocating, but adding to the thrum in his chest—the same beat that had his lips pulled up in a smile which ached in his cheeks, but it didn’t matter.

The burn in the cracking skin around his lips and eyes was inconsequential. His face bare of the usual curtains of hair was turned up towards the screen in full display.

He watched you, silhouetted in the blue like of the monitor, saw the figures of your friends gather close around him, engulfing him like an ameba, adding Tomura in as another cell to this new organism.

He breathed.

And felt alive.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #tw mysoginy #tomura x dabi #shigadabi #bee.talks

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satancopilotsmytardis · 5 months

Text

Title: Home is Where...

Pairing: ShigaDabi

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rape/Non-con

Tags: Yandere!Shigaraki, non-consensual somnophilia, sex toys, anal fingering, handjobs, semi-public sex, crossdressing, forced feminization, domestic submission, abusive relationships, anal sex, dacryphilia, League as family. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Summary: A commission for @psi-neko , who wanted to see Yandere!Shigaraki, domestic submission, somnophilia, and more family moments with the League!

The League has moved into a new safe house and Dabi is on lockdown after garnering too much attention from the police and heroes. He finds himself slowly but surely taking on more of the household chores, and that Shigaraki seems to be watching him at every moment. That's nothing to be worried about though, right? After all, the smell of rain that he keeps waking up to must just be his imagination, he always locks his door at night after all.

Dabi is not entirely sure how they went from living on the streets to Shigaraki calling them all back to a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs. He really has no fucking clue how the boss somehow got a three-story house with four bedrooms and a finished basement, fully furnished with the utilities on. No idea if this was a safe house or something that AFO had before that he somehow managed to figure out was still safe prior to Kurogiri getting arrested or what, but he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth too much. Really, really not going to complain when, despite arriving last, he ends up with one of the bedrooms upstairs with Duster, Compress and Toga in the rooms on the second floor, and Twice and Spinner taking the basement.

They all get settled in, making sure that the blinds are shut tight in every room. If they can just do their best to not draw any attention from the neighbors then they should be able to stay here a while. But once they've gotten the lay of the land they all end up back downstairs in the living room for a debriefing, first one they've all been around for at the same time since just after dealing with Overhaul. And everything is fine, he would dare say normal even. He's been out recruiting, Toga and Compress have been doing spy shit, Spinner and Twice have been trying to find anyone that might be able to reproduce the quirk erasing bullets for them. All the stuff they're supposed to be doing--

"For the next few weeks, you four can also start looking for recruits again, but anyone even remotely interested has to be vetted by myself or Dabi prior to any meet-ups, understood?" Shigaraki doesn't even glance in Twice's direction as he says it, but they all feel that slight sting. Yeah well, none of them are mad at Jin about that-- he didn't know how much of a psycho Overhaul was gonna be. But Magne is still gone, Compress is still permanently disabled. It still was something that hurt them and they're making do in the aftermath. Whatever. "Dabi, you'll be at base until further notice. You can help me coordinate and decrypt the files my teacher left behind."

He blinks. "What? No, I'm in charge of recruitment, Giran said he had something interesting in Fukuoka--"

Shigaraki levels him with flat red eyes, "No. You've drawn far too much attention to yourself in the past few weeks. You're the most recognizable of us and your quirk is the most obvious and easy to trace. You're on house arrest until things cool off."

He is really about to start bitching in earnest, but then he notices that Shigaraki isn't even clawing at his neck anymore. Which means he is dead set on this and just as ready for this to be a physical fight as Dabi was gearing up for a verbal one. He grits his teeth and bites out, "Fine." Which is a lot less of a fight than he would have put up at the beginning. At least they have a whole house to hole up in. Better than the shitty bar or the shack they were using a few weeks ago.

The others seem to let out the collective breath that they were holding and Compress speaks up next. "I can check on things in Fukuoka, if you'd like." Dabi waves him off. They can do whatever the fuck they want. He doubts it was anything that interesting anyway.

They finish up the meeting and when that's done, there's a pause. Been a long time since they had somewhere safe and comfortable to stay. Takes all of ten minutes before they all start to break off to do their own things. Thinks Toga is going to take a bath, Compress heads towards the kitchen to make sure that the rest of them actually eat, Spinner and Duster start in on some game from the ancient console gathering dust under the TV with Twice cheering them on, and he makes his way up to his room. As annoying as being locked down is, he has been doing the most running around for the past few months, has barely had a place to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. Can't exactly say that he's going to resent the opportunity to pass out for a solid eight hours in an actual bed.

The others, very wisely, don't bother him once he shuts himself away for the night.

///

Dabi learns three things very, very quickly once he is on house arrest. The first is that he is bored all of the time. He always bitched at the others for being sat around doing nothing when he popped back into base with updates, but he gets it now. There just isn't that much to do. He and Shigaraki work on trying to coordinate and run down leads based on what they still have from AFO, but that's a lot of putting out lines and waiting for a bite. They can't train with their quirks without drawing attention, and they can't leave the house. Thank god they have power and internet here at least because he's pretty sure he would be pulling out staples just for something to do otherwise.

The second thing that becomes increasingly obvious is that the rest of his cohorts have never lived in a house like this, or if they did, they were never responsible for its upkeep. Spinner and Twice are so bluntly and obviously reclusive bachelors and they are always leaving dishes in the sink and laundry in the dryer. Pretty sure neither of them have ever touched a fucking vacuum in their lives either. Toga knows how to do chores and usually doesn't make too much of a mess, has gotten glimpses of her room and it's cluttered with as many cute things as she can get her hands on to make her space feel warm and homey, but generally clean. Compress, unsurprisingly, seems to know how to keep things in order, but he's not around as much since he has been traveling the most. Shigaraki, from what he can tell, also knows how to clean up after himself, but he definitely wasn't doing the majority of housework with Kurogiri or AFO. And Dabi is trying very, very hard not to care, or think about any of that. He lasts all of nine days. Gets up one morning and finds the sink piled high with dishes and mud tracked in from the back door and unfortunately cannot contain himself any longer.

By the time the others are making their way downstairs he's vacuumed and scrubbed the floors, dusted everything from the baseboards to the ceiling fans, wiped down the counters and furniture with cleaner, cleaned the bathrooms, washed and put away the dishes, made breakfast, and written out a grocery list to plan for the rest of the week. There's definitely a confused, sleepy air hanging around the others as they come into the kitchen, an island at the center and dining area tucked off to the side before leading into the backyard, and find food laid out and waiting.

"You... cooked?" And Spinner sounds genuinely baffled.

"Yeah well, none of you fucking can." He snaps, Compress excluded, but he's not in a particularly charitable mood at the moment.

"You cleaned too." And Shigaraki's tone is more considering.

He sneers at them all. "Clearly none of you are capable of that either. If you make a mess on purpose I'll fucking incinerate you." Turns back to the sink to finish rinsing the cooking dishes and get those loaded into the dishwasher. "Food's getting cold."

Really not expecting Toga to press along his back, catching him in a tight, warm hug that does something unforgivable to his chest, as she murmurs, "Thanks, Dabi."

Genuinely glad he always sounds gruff with them when he mutters back, "Whatever, leech."

So he takes over the household stuff, and that only alleviates his boredom about thirty percent of the time. Unfortunately, that does lead him to his third observation: Shigaraki seems to be always watching him.

That's something he becomes aware of by inches. At first, he just noticed that he started seeing Shig at least once a day, then a little more often. He chalked that up to the fact that he started cooking most meals now that they weren't living off of convenience store food and cup noodles, but no. Whenever he was in one of the other rooms, Duster would wander in and find a reason to stay. Usually didn't make small talk with him, which he was perfectly happy to avoid, but he didn't know why the other man would keep getting into his space. Definitely didn't like how Shigaraki always seemed to be watching him with those sharp, creepy blood red eyes whenever he glanced up from whatever he was doing. Something about the look robbed him of the attitude he would have leveled at the others for staring.

Maybe it was because Shigaraki never did it when the others were around, which left some kind of alarm bell ringing in the back of his mind. But their creepy boss hasn't done anything yet. Doesn't know how he would even bring it up without sounding insanely paranoid on top of his usual bitchiness. So Dabi doesn't say anything.

Probably should have.

///

Things come to a head one night after dinner. The others are still all out, might not come back for a day or two depending on any difficulties they might find traveling. He and Shig eat, they don't talk much, not usually in an uncomfortable way. More in a not really knowing what to even talk about when it's just them that's not work, and they've already dealt with that today. So instead things are quiet as they eat. When they're finished, Dabi starts to clean up. The annoyance about doing the housework had worn off stunningly quickly in the wake of not having much to do. At least he can be useful while trapped in the house. And the cleaning, cooking, just... putting things in order, it taps into something in his head. Calms him down. Can't control how fast he's going to get to his revenge, hasn't been in control of most of what's happened to him for the past decade, but at least in this place, he's able to exercise some control over his situation.

He's fucking glad they have a dishwasher though, because the seams across his palms are already not thrilled with how much he's been irritating them with scrubbing floors, and tubs, and surfaces. Lets out a soft hiss of breath as the hot water hits his seam and that one has just had it with his bullshit today. A thin trickle of blood goes pink and washes away with the water. He turns off the tap and is about to reach for a towel, but he's abruptly paused when Shigaraki is right in his space. His skin heats sharply as his panic spikes when the other man catches him with four fingers around his wrist. Duster acts as if he hasn't even noticed, like this is normal, before bringing the towel to his hand and gently drying his skin. He's careful not to pull at his staples any more than Dabi already has, but it's still so strange that Dabi can't relax.

"I didn't realize you would be such a good homemaker." Definitely hasn't ever heard Shigaraki's voice low like that and it has his skin bristling. Especially when he tries to pull his hand back and Shig holds a little tighter, raised finger dropping just enough to keep him from giving a more insistent tug as his nervousness spikes.

"...Better soldier, if you let me stop spinning my wheels." He tries to sound mostly unfazed, but he doesn't think he pulls it off.

"No, I like having you right here, where I can see you. Where I know you're being so well-behaved for me." His mind goes unhelpfully blank when Shigaraki lifts his hand, dips his head, so he can press a soft kiss to his aching seam. Dabi bristles slightly. Tries to pull his hand back again, and that last deadly finger lowers a little more. He stills. Lets Duster press his palm briefly to his cheek before he straightens and lets go of him. It takes more restraint than he knew he had to not snatch his hand back from the space between them, to move slowly and deliberately, leaving the rest of the dishes and stepping around the other man who has practically trapped him between the sink and island.

"Not sure what it says that you're turned on by housework, but I'm not interested, Duster."

Sends something very cold through his gut when Shigaraki keeps watching him with those dissecting red eyes and the barest touch of a smile curling his lips. "You will be, firefly." He really does not like how sure the other man sounds and as soon as he's far enough away that he'd be able to set off his flames faster than he thinks Shigaraki could reach for him, he turns and heads swiftly back upstairs to his room. Throwing the lock into place isn't really that much of a reassurance when the whole door could be turned to dust in a few seconds, but that would be pretty hard for Shigaraki to explain to the others. Still has a hard time falling asleep that night.

///

Shigaraki doesn't treat him any differently while they're working, but he is always watching him while he's in the common areas of the house, especially when he's cleaning or cooking. Doesn't try anything again, but those red eyes are following him into his sleep.

The first dream happened after he finally managed to sleep the night Shigaraki cornered him in the kitchen. Had been so simple. Cool lips against his cheek through the dark, fingers trailing along his throat, down his chest, stopping as they drifted low on his stomach. And then nothing. He woke up the next morning foggy and confused, but didn't think too hard about it. Not until the same thing happened the next night. The lips in his dream trailed a little further along his jaw, the fingers starting on his thighs and working their way up. He did his best to ignore it, but when he swore that he was starting to come out of sleep with the smell of petrichor in his nose, the smell that follows Shigaraki around, he started to question if it was just paranoia and weird dreams. Still hasn't said anything though, doesn't know how he can even bring it up without stirring the pot in a way he really doesn't want to, especially when his door is always firmly locked when he comes to each morning.

Wakes up this morning with the memory of lips pressing softly to his own and resolves that he's going to have to do something about these weird ass dreams before he loses any more of his mind. He gets dressed, though he's given up on his villain gear, sticking with casual clothes until he's allowed out of the house again, and heads to go get started on breakfast. Not expecting to nearly trip on a small brown box as he opens his door. Dabi pauses, nudges it with his toe, half expecting it to be some kind of prank. He would absolutely not put it past Toga to try to glitter bomb him-- but the box is light and inert against his socked foot. He picks it up and retreats over to the desk to get the scissors.

When he gets it open he finds a pair of black rubber gloves inside. It's a gift that only serves to confuse him more. Isn't sure if it's an apology for being so weird the other night, or if Duster is just that level of inept that the whole situation came off so much creepier than he'd intended.

Either way, his seams are a lot happier with him when he wears them as he's wiping down the counters after breakfast, and Duster looks a little self-satisfied as well. He doesn't thank the other man. An additional fee for being such a creep.

///

Dabi is starting to think that there is a plot happening in the house, and paranoid or not, it definitely seems to be conspiring against him in particular. Because this is the second time in as many days that he's walked into a room and conversation has abruptly died.

"What the fuck is going on?" Maybe a touch nastier than he usually is with them at this point, but he does not like how they all are suddenly pretending to be busy with their own things as he comes in to get started on dinner, the kitchen open to the living room.

"Nothing!" Toga says too loud, too quick, too bright with a big smile full of fangs. Doesn't believe her for a second and she must know it. But she continues anyway, "What's for dinner?"

"Fucking nothing unless you spill the beans, brat."

"Oh, that's alright, Dabi." Compress says as he pushes off the couch, already undoing his cufflinks to roll his sleeves. "You've been doing so much of the domestic chores, why don't I handle dinner tonight?"

And he really doesn't know what to do with the way that makes his chest kind of hurt a little. "Whatever, do what you want." Feels incredibly petulant when he turns his ass right back around and heads upstairs. Fine, if they don't want him to know whatever's going on, if they want to mock him for trying to find ways to occupy his time, then they can fend for their fucking selves. He drops onto his bed and figures he'll go down and eat after the others are finished. He hears Duster pass by his room and the door shut softly half an hour later.

He wasn't even tired when he laid down, but in a matter of minutes his eyes are so heavy he couldn't keep them open if he wanted to.

///

Cold hands on his body, cool lips against his neck, a weight settled over him. Dabi squirms in the dark, trying to shift away. Something in him knows that the sensations are wrong, that something is going on, but his mind is so thick and foggy he can't pay attention. The dream presses in closer. It pushes up his shirt to expose his chest and there are lips and fingers there too. Teasing little licks and tugs at his piercings that are making his skin go hotter. A lot hotter when there's pressure against his crotch. When after a few teasing strokes and squeezes, a hand is slipping into his pants. Oh. Dabi lets out a thin moan, forgetting the discomfort from before as he has good friction against his cock for the first time in ages. Can't even remember the last time he jacked off. Just knows that having a cool, firm touch against his overheated skin is sending his pleasure higher. The touches are firm and sure, they move against him and he lets himself be swept along by the sensations. His skin is nearly humming, everything feeling so much more intense in the blackness of his dream. Wonders if that's why he imagines the smell of petrichor again.

"Shigaraki?" His tongue is so heavy, the word slurred so much that he barely thinks it can even count as a word in the first place. But the hand around his cock stills for a second, but then it's moving again, firmer, faster, and the lips are back at his neck. Makes everything feel so much better with an insistence that has him moaning and squirming again, his cock dripping against the phantom palm stroking him. Is teetering on the edge of his orgasm so soon. Is sent over the edge when teeth start at his neck, licking and sucking, and then biting hard enough that he's whimpering as that little flare of pain is enough. His orgasm feels so good as it washes over him. It leaves his muscles trembling softly as he settles again. As the teeth pull themselves from his skin and lips press another kiss there instead.

The darkness feels much heavier again and the rest of his dream is blissfully empty.

///

"Dabi?" Toga's voice coming through the door, accompanied by a knock. Fuck, he feels like he got hit by a train. Can't remember the last time he slept so hard. He starts to shift and is abruptly more awake than he was a moment ago because the inside of his sweatpants is soiled and sticky with old cum. His face burns and he glances at the door, overwhelmingly relieved that it's locked as she tries the handle gently.

He thinks he manages to sound annoyed instead of embarrassed when he snaps, "What, leech?"

There's a slight pause, "We made breakfast, are you going to come down?" Breakfast? He glances over at the clock and blinks. Nine a.m. It was definitely barely after seven when he came in here last night. Doesn't know how that happened. Fuck, the others probably thought he was acting like even more of a mopey teenager than he was.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a bit, brat." Anything to get her to leave so he can be mortified about the mess he's made of himself in private. Hears her footsteps going and gets out of bed, stripping out of his sweats and trying to clean up a bit with some tissues before he has to make his way to the bathroom. He thought he was in a coma during the embarrassing wet dream years, really didn't think he was going to have to deal with them now. Must have been more pent up than he thought to have such a weird dream.

He's not really thinking that much when his hand moves to his neck, to where he remembers teeth. It's tender to the touch and the blood drains from his face. throws on clean clothes and heads to the bathroom. The mirror offers no insights, his skin too dark to see a bruise. Dabi tries to calm down. His door was locked, he'd unlocked it himself, heard it rattle soundly in place when Toga tried. Must have just slept weird and his dreams turned the ache into a sensation that went along with the rest of the dream. He tries to shake the uneasiness from his mind as he cleans up and gets ready for the day.

By the time he's made it downstairs, he can already hear the others all lively in the kitchen, food already on the table.

"Yo, there you are, what happened to you last night, man?" Spinner greets from in front of the fridge, taking out the pitcher of orange juice.

"I tried to knock last night and you didn't answer," Shigaraki says dryly, not even looking up from whatever game he's tapping away at on his phone. Shigaraki? Tries to shake himself quickly before heat can head to his face. Must have heard him through the door. Must have been why he'd thought of him--

"I put on a book," taken to listening to them while he's been working around the house with his headphones on. "And it literally bored me to sleep." Not really expecting a palpable release of tension to be banished from the room, but the others all seem to perk up, except Duster who looks completely nonplussed by the whole situation.

"So you're not mad?"

Definitely was last night, but that feels a million miles away now. "No, is that about to change abruptly?"

"It depends on how you feel about puns, I guess," Spinner says, which instills no confidence in him as Toga rushes over to the table and pulls a flat box off of his chair, before bringing it back to him, nearly bouncing.

"Open it!"

"We wanted to thank you for everything you've been doing for us over the past few weeks," Compress tells him more calmly as he hesitantly takes the box. Kind of wants to crawl out of his skin as he opens it under their watchful eyes.

The ache in his chest goes so much sharper as he pulls the bundle of blue and black fabric from the box. An apron, messily died into a black and blue gradient, puffy paint messily declaring 'If you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen!' on the front. Little blobs of blue paint frame the kanji on either side that he thinks are supposed to be flames. He doesn't say anything for an agonizingly long moment, doesn't know how to speak when his lungs feel like they've collapsed in on themselves. It takes him a second to look up and he finds that they're all watching him, an earnestness across their features that he thinks is going to tear him open at the seams.

"You're all a bunch of fucking saps." But his voice is not as even as he'd like it to be.

Says something about how well he's let them know him that none of them comment on it, instead letting him slip into his chair at the table and starting the usual chatter as they start to eat. They still leave to go out on their jobs, he's still on house arrest, but when he goes to clean up the mess from breakfast, he does it with his gloves and apron on.

///

Things go back to normal, for everyone else. The others were apparently sneaking around the house and whispering because they were trying to figure out how to make the gift and were worried about him overhearing, but now that the cat is out of the bag, they're all back to normal. And Dabi is still having wet dreams like a horny teenager and he's absolutely fucking mortified about it. He's been sleeping so deeply, feeling hands all over him in the dark, stroking him and bringing him off, kisses pressed along his jaw, cheeks, and neck, fingers toying with his nipples, he feels so filthy every time he wakes up with cum staining the inside of his pajamas. Never had this happen before and what's worse is that every dream is full of indistinguishable heavy darkness and the smell of rain. Which means that he's dreaming about Shigaraki every time and he really doesn't know what to do about that. Only just started getting along with him for work things a few weeks ago, didn't think that would develop into anything else, but apparently, the other man had infected him with that kiss against his seams to have his subconscious so needy for him.

Not that he's ever going to let Duster know that.

The dreams become such a persistent and embarrassing routine over the next week that Dabi finally gives in and tries to cut them off. Fine, he's clearly more sexually frustrated than he thought he was, okay, so he deals with that. He honestly is more interested in going out and railing or getting railed than masturbating, but since he's still on lockdown, he settles for this. Digs out a packet of lube from the bottom of his duffle and gets on his bed. Tries to think about anything besides the dreams and his creepy boss, but the four-fingered touches keep coming to the forefront of his mind as he starts to stroke himself. By the time there are thin wisps of smoke coming out of his seams and he's dripping against his palm, Dabi has his knuckles pressed to his mouth, trying to muffle any sounds. Would be absolutely mortifying if,

"Tomura," Shigaraki heard him gasping his name through the wall as Dabi stripes his hand with his cum. Mortifying enough as is. He cleans up, pulls his pajama bottoms back on, and hits the light, hoping that he's staved off the dreams for the night. If he can just avoid waking up in soiled sweats again, then he will accept this as a win.

///

Hands on his body, rougher than before. They pull at his pajamas, never tugged at his clothes like this before, taking them off as lips move almost frantically across his jaw. Until they seal over his own. Definitely never done that before. Fingers on his jaw as soon as he's pulled away his sweats, pulling his mouth open so a tongue can push greedily inside. Dabi lets out a muffled sound, not sure what's happening why the dream is so much more than it usually is, jolting slightly when the hands go back to his thighs and spread them wide so that a solid weight can settle between them. Dabi feels more overwhelmed, more devoured by the touches than he has in any of the dreams before, the mouth barely leaving his long enough for him to breathe, and he starts to struggle, trying to escape the overwhelming sensations. It has the hands around his thighs tightening sharply, hard enough that it pulls at the staples there and sparks pain across his skin.

He lets out a sharper gasp as his eyes open, trying to flinch away from the pressure. Shigaraki holds him still as he presses in to kiss him again.

Dabi lets out a thin sound of shock as reality comes crashing in on him. Not wet dreams, not a dream, Shigaraki touching him, coming into his room-- Panic, fear, disgust, all spike so sharply in him as he reaches for his quirk, as he tries to get his sleep-heavy limbs coordinated enough to push him away, to light him on fire for touching him-- and his quirk doesn't react at all. His arms feel like noodles as he gets his hands against Shigaraki's chest. Can't put any force behind the movement. Tries to bite him, and it's barely a nip.

Shigaraki pulls away after a moment, red eyes locking with his and dark with his lust. "There you are, firefly. Was hoping you would wake up for this."

"G...et off," hard to speak too, fuck, everything feels heavy and hazy. Been sleeping so hard lately, fuck, not sleeping. Drugged. Doesn't know how Shigaraki has been doing it, but he must have been. Dabi is far too paranoid to sleep through someone sneaking into his room.

"Oh sweetheart, why would I do that?" Dabi is choked with panic as he feels Shigaraki wrap four ungloved fingers around his half-hard cock, stroking him like he's already figured out every way to make him hot. Has, probably, in the week he's been molesting him in his sleep. "When you wanted me so badly earlier you couldn't even wait for me to come and see you, pretty boy."

He tries to shake his head, tries to squirm away, can barely move at all. "S-stop,"

"Been waiting so long for you to show me that you were ready for more." Terror and anguish crash in on his chest when wet fingers start to rub against his hole, making him nearly whimper.

"Don't!" Can't get as much force behind the word as he wants, but the more he tries to focus, the easier speech becomes. If he shouts--

"Shh, don't want the others to hear you, pretty thing." Duster sinks a finger inside of him and Dabi lets out a harsh pant. Can't move enough to fight him, can't use his quirk for some reason, if he has to scream for help then fine, anything to keep from being raped by his psychotic boss. The hand around his cock shifts to his thigh, Shigaraki starts to drum his fingers against the skin over his artery, a deliberate, threatening rhythm as his mouth trails along his cheek so he can murmur in his ear. "You wouldn't want them to come knocking and find you like this, would you? Pretty cock dripping and hole stretching so eagerly around my fingers, door locked, not even struggling? Do you really think they would believe you if you said you didn't want it?" He pushes in a second finger as he's speaking, rubbing and stretching, and then crooking-- Dabi lets out an involuntary moan, his eyes squeezing shut as Shigaraki rubs against his prostate and sends unwanted pleasure spilling out across his nerves. "When your body is so clearly desperate for my cock, sweetheart? Scream if you want, precious, happy to show off the cute sounds you always make when I'm touching you." Lips pressing softly and sweetly against his cheek as Dabi whimpers, words dying in his throat. The fingers keep tapping along his thigh. Prepared to kill or maim him if he tries anyway.

He grits his teeth and swallows away any screams or further protests as Shigaraki keeps working him open. Gets him stretched and wet, his body forced pliant from whatever the other man dosed him with. And then he's shifting, pulling his cock free from his sleep pants and Dabi can't help it, lets out a weak sob. He doesn't think he's ever felt more helpless since he was a child as Shigaraki spreads lube over himself before resettling between his legs and pushing his thick head against his hole. Duster presses more soft kisses against his cheeks, under his eyes as the first drops of blood slip over his cheeks, shushing him gently.

He cries harder as Shigaraki presses inside of his body. Wanted to be full like this a few hours ago, and his body keeps betraying him by feeling so good as he's stretched so full of Duster's cock. Bites as hard as he can at his lip, trying to chase away the pleasure dancing along his nerves, but Shigaraki must want it to feel good. Kisses him again and again, hands moving over his body, one returning to stroke his cock in time with his deliberate rolling thrusts that have him sinking in so deep and rubbing over his prostate each time he moves. A slow, deliberate, building rhythm that soaks his body in unwanted arousal even as his stomach curdles. Can't help the little breathless whimpers that keep sneaking out of him.

"Perfect, baby, so pretty when you cry, feel so good," fucks him leisurely, like he has all the time in the world. "So glad you finally called for me, firefly. Didn't know how long I could keep waiting," more kisses, hands holding him a little tighter. "Told you that you would want it, can't wait to have you like this every night."

Doesn't know if it's terror or shame that consumes him as Shigaraki keeps murmuring in his ear as he works them both steadily towards their climaxes. Just knows that by the time it's over he's been broken again in some new, fresh way he has no idea how to cope with.

///

Dabi's not quite sure how it could even happen, but somehow he managed to pass out after that. Wakes up feeling foggy and a little sore, his gut hollow, and skin cleaner than it should be. And cuddled up against Shigaraki's chest, deadly hands petting softly over his skin and face pressed into his hair. Dabi tenses, reaching for his quirk--

"None of that, firefly." A burst of pain starts somewhere near his lower back, a spike of something numb and cold before agony creeps through him and he loses all of the breath in his lungs in a split second as he hears his skin crack. Dabi sharply drops his temperature again, doesn't dare try to reach for his flames again and the pain stops. The whole room is spinning as he realizes that Shigaraki just used Decay on him. Hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look up, and Dabi can't help the muted sound of terror that slips out of his lips to have him touching him there. Duster's eyes are warm, a soft smile on his lips, "Shh baby, it's alright, can you take a slow breath for me?"

Can he? Dabi forces himself to as Shigaraki rubs his thumb just under his eye, can feel four points of contact against his cheek. He manages to suck in a breath.

"Good boy, out." He listens, trapped between deadly hands, until he's not hyperventilating anymore. But the pain still radiating out from his back is sharp and raw. "There." He holds very still as Shigaraki leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

"Shigaraki this is-- you can't do this," He doesn't know if he's ever heard his voice so thin and terrified.

Shigaraki's voice has no right to be so soft as he pulls Dabi even closer until their foreheads are pressed together. "Why not? You came and found me, you decided to stay by my side, you've been so eager to show me how useful you can be. You've been practically begging for me to make you mine." One hand stays on his cheek, but the other wraps back around his waist, pulling their bodies even closer, and Dabi's panic spikes. "I was going to wait a little longer, until you came to me again, but last night, you were so needy, so desperate to be claimed, I couldn't leave you aching." Lips against his temple. "And now you don't have to worry about that again. Never going to be needy now that you're mine."

"Shigaraki--" Words turning to ash in his throat as the hand trails down to his ass, swallowing hard and trembling, not sure if he's more terrified of the sting of Decay or if he's scared of him forcing his fingers inside dry.

"Mine, Dabi, you understand that, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Stop, Shig, please--"

"Mine," Duster murmuring the words against his temple, "Because everyone knows you're with the League, because if you try to run, no one will help you. Because if you try to use your quirk," the hand moves up to his back again, pressing roughly enough on the wound that he cries out softly. "I'll have to use mine." Did it over one of his patches of scars, he realizes dizzily. Even if he told the others, if he tries to show them proof-- probably just looks like one of his staples tore loose. Anguish is building in his chest. "I don't want to do that. You're so beautiful, I don't want to have to punish you, but I will if you make me."

"Don't," Always thought Shigaraki was kind of creepy, but Dabi never expected to be scared of him. "Please, we can forget about this, I won't say anything--" Has had so many horrible things happen to him, what's one more? Can put this away, can hide it, and hold on until he finds an opportunity to burn Shigaraki out too.

Shigaraki ignores him, "There are some rules that you'll have to follow now that you're mine, baby boy. And as long as you follow them," fingers digging into the wound again, making black spots burst across his vision, "I won't have to punish you again. Understand?"

He really thinks he might vomit, but he forces himself to nod.

"Good boy, we're going to go over them now," Shigaraki presses a soft kiss to his forehead. "On your hands and knees, baby."

Dabi gives a weak sob even as he starts to move.

///

That was three weeks ago. Shigaraki made sure that he was settled into his ownership, made sure that he was used to his new routine and Dabi had a few more patches of Decay across his body from fighting at first. Stopped soon enough when he realized just how unhinged Shigaraki is, when he was made abundantly aware that if he kept struggling that he wouldn't even make it to a fight with his father.

The others still come and go for their own jobs, Shigaraki still has him working on things he doesn't need to leave for, and... has him doing the housework. Mocked him for that before this started, but now it's become clear that's part of whatever delusion the other villain has constructed. That this is their home, not just a safe house, that Dabi is doing all of this as an act of service, of devotion. Makes him sick to his stomach because it kind of was before Shigaraki twisted it. Started cleaning just because he couldn't stand the mess, but then the others had been so surprised, so happy with it all. He'd started doing it for them. Thinks that's the only reason he doesn't hate it now as he keeps at it even when--

"Are you almost finished, baby?" Deadly hands catch him around his hips as Shigaraki's body presses along his spine. He doesn't even shiver anymore. Routine.

"Yes, sir." Was cleaning up after prepping things for dinner. The others won't probably be back until late, just wanted to have things ready to throw in the oven once they came back. Routine to have Shigaraki peppering kisses along his neck, a hand slipping over his ass and making him all too aware of the plug keeping him ready to take the other man's cock whenever he wants him to.

Routine to have him wake every morning, shower, prepare himself for the day, and then have to go into Shigaraki's room, get on his hands and knees, and let the other man open him up and slip the plug inside. Makes him wear it until they turn in for the night, only takes it out then. At first, he thought that would mean that Shigaraki would be using him every day, but he doesn't. Just wants the constant knowledge that he will again to sit on his nerves. He belongs to Duster, keeping him full of the plug is a reminder.

But Sir does actually seem to want him right now. He can feel him pressing half-hard against him as his mouth moves over his skin, the other hand snaking around to slip under his apron and shirt to toy with the seam curving across his stomach. Dabi hates how quickly he's learned every place that can make him hot, how he always makes sure his need is so high against his will that by the time Sir's cock is buried inside of him, he can't do anything but sob and moan, his body betraying him when he rocks back to get more friction. He does his best not to squirm as his face starts to heat with his humiliation.

"Please sir, just a few more minutes? I just want to keep things tidy for you."

"Yeah, sweetheart?" But his mouth is more insistent against his neck. Sensitive there from his scars and none of his other partners ever touched him there because of them. Between that, the probing touches slowly drifting lower across his stomach, and Tomura grinding his cock against him, it has him close to trembling embarrassingly quickly as sour arousal starts to slip along his nerves. "Always being such a good girl," Dabi's humiliation spikes sharply, his face burning as he really does start to shake. Another thing of Shigaraki's. Likes to call him that, treat him like his little housewife. Makes Dabi disgusted with himself because it has his cock starting to harden. Worse because Duster chuckles against his skin, knows how hot that makes him too. "What if I want you to be a mess, precious?"

The hand moves from his stomach up to his mouth and Dabi opens automatically. Knows that he's supposed to. Sir presses his fingers past his lips, has him lick at them. He's already wet, but he would rather have more than less when it comes to being split open around Sir's cock, so he licks at his cool skin until Tomura is satisfied. Is expecting the other man to make him bend over the island again and tug his sweats down so he can remove his plug and fuck him full, but instead his wet hand slips down his front, under his waistband. Dabi lets out a thready moan as he wraps his fingers insistently around his cock and starts to stroke and tease him. Doesn't know if this is better or worse, but Shigaraki doesn't always want to get off himself when he corners Dabi. Seems to take so much delight in making him 'feel good' like for every second of forced pleasure, Dabi isn't left sobbing just as long. Tomura's mouth goes back to his neck as he strokes him, his other hand slipping under his shirt to toy with the piercings through his nipples. Dabi tries to ignore everything else, just let it happen and then it will be over again.

At least... at least Tomura's obsessions all just want him subservient, want him... enjoying himself if not happy. Doesn't seem to delight in any greater cruelty than making him cry. Doesn't seem to actually enjoy hurting him with his quirk when he misbehaves. It could be worse, it could be so much worse, he remembers how his mother used to not be able to walk, how her pale skin would be mottled with bruises over and over again until she finally got pregnant with Shoto. If he has to endure this, then he'd rather Shigaraki be obsessed with the idea of them as a happy couple rather than as a plaything to be used and ruined at his whim.

"Tomura," Gasped out because he's starting to drip as the other man plays with his ladder, his mouth sucking a bruise no one will be able to see on the sensitive patch of skin just below his ear.

"That's it, princess, show me how much you want it."

Hard to make his shaking muscles comply, but he forces himself to start to move, fucking into Shigaraki's hand as his arousal creeps higher and higher. Will probably be over once he cums. Tomura will probably want him on his knees later before he takes out his plug. Tries to put that out of his mind. Friction is friction.

He's so close when he hears the front door unlock and his veins are drenched with ice. He tries to twist away from Shigaraki. The others don't know about this. Doesn't want them to know. Doesn't know how he would tell them. What Shigaraki would do to them if they tried to stop what's happening? Duster is more than willing to use force to get what he wants, has let so many other members of the League be tossed aside if that would get him closer to his goals. Would he hurt them to keep him just like this?

Sir's hand moves faster over him, keeping his pleasure sharp as he hears Spinner enter the house with a loud, "Yo," in greeting.

"If you track in mud," Dabi is almost proud of how little his voice shakes, how agitated he manages to sound instead of humiliated, "I'll kill you, gecko." Rain has been pattering against the roof all day. Must be soaked. He's dripping all over Tomura's hand. Dabi shoves his knuckles between his teeth to muffle any sounds as Duster twists at his piercings and sinks his teeth into the other side of his neck. Just hard enough. Learned that just the right spark of pain--

"Yeah, yeah, I'm taking off my boots."

Dabi lets out a harsh pant and a muffled cry as Shigaraki rolls his hips against his, making his plug shift inside of him, and that does it. Spills all over his boxers and sweats, his legs wanting to drop out from under him. Can't let the unwanted pleasure of his orgasm shake through him for too long, realizes that he did exactly what Sir wanted and made a mess as he moves away from him, going over to wash his hands before helping him to put things away. Dabi is about to be absolutely mortified when their companion walks in before he realizes that his apron is hiding the wet spot from view.

Spinner comes in and starts to give them an update about a potential group of recruits he's found and Dabi pretends to pay attention. Can't focus on anything but the cum drying against his skin.

///

Dabi feels even more off than he has for the past few weeks by the time he gets up the next morning and makes his way to Shigaraki's room. He barely knocks, Duster always seems to know where he is, and at this point, he's absolutely positive that the whole house is bugged in some way or another, and Shigaraki's door is always unlocked for him in the morning anyway. He steps inside and abruptly realizes that Shigaraki's room must also be soundproof because Tomura is on the phone. He's still in his pajamas, his plug isn't waiting for him on the bed or nightstand, Shigaraki sitting at the desk tapping away at a tablet that Dabi hasn't seen before.

"--press is extracting that information as we speak." Duster also has the box of quirk-erasing bullets on the table. "Once that's finished we'll be moving to a location closer to your main lab." Oh, talking to the monster maker. That's actually probably good news as far as their goals go. Means that they might be moving forward soon. Shigaraki glances up at him and waves him off. Never let any of them talk to the monster maker, clearly doesn't want him eavesdropping on this conversation. Dabi is more than happy to leave the room without the unwanted accessory. He starts back towards his room. None of the others are home this morning, as far as he's aware, and he might as well wait for Duster to finish his call before he starts on breakfast--

A recklessness surges through him. He gets dressed in his civilian clothes, doesn't dare try to grab his bag, doesn't take anything that would make it obvious that he's not coming back. If things are bugged then Shigaraki is likely to stop him if he sees even a trace of his intentions. He heads downstairs and writes a note, just says he's going to pick up a few things for later, even takes his phone with him. He'll ditch it on the street near the shop and hop a train. At least then if Duster can somehow track it, he might buy himself a little extra time. Dabi doesn't waste any more time and starts on his way. It's the first time he's been out of the house in... god, months?

He makes his way as swiftly as he can in the direction he wants to go, but it's not raining for the first time in days, and even overcast, people are all over the streets, trying to soak up the fresh air while they can get it. It makes moving slow going and frustrating. Not going to be able to just slink along the main streets, too risking with so many people out and about. Going to have to take side streets and back alleys. Wouldn't normally be a problem but that slows his progress to a crawl. He was always planning on hopping a train in the seedier part of town but this is torture. Takes him an hour just to get into the commercial district.

Really shouldn't be surprised that he's barely there when his phone chimes. Not surprising at all that it's Shigaraki's name that pops up with the alert.

Duster: I didn't give you permission to leave.

He takes a breath, tempted to ditch his phone right now and just sprint to the nearest train station. But Shigaraki didn't call him. Duster always calls them when he wants something. He doesn't like having anything written down in case one of them gets caught. Did he not call because he's already following him? Because Dabi would be able to tell he was moving and not in the house? Never seen Shigaraki text unless he was giving Kurogiri an extraction point--

The next text comes through with the name of the street he's on and Dabi's gut goes leaden. Should have known better. Duster never thought to lock him in the house, just told him to stay and he had because Dabi knew that getting away would be impossible. He takes a shaky breath and responds,

Dabi: I just wanted to pick up something special for tonight. It's just going to be us, isn't it, sir?

Keeps going without a response.

Dabi: I'm being careful, I promise I'll be home soon.

Duster: One hour, Dabi.

Doesn't make an overt threat over the phone, but Dabi knows that he's in for hell if he doesn't make it on time. Has only been punished for small things, flinching away from his touch, trying to push him away, talking back. He doesn't want to know what Tomura will do to him if he's not perfect.

His eyes scan the street a little franticly. Needs to find something to make his outing seem worth it, and he needs to do it quickly.

///

It's honestly a miracle that it starts raining as he exits the grocery store. It means that people start to tuck themselves back inside and he's able to run and it just looks like he's trying to keep his shopping from getting too wet on his way to his destination. The rain is probably the only thing that keeps him from being late as he slips back into the house fifty-five minutes after Tomura's warning. He lets his quirk vent through his skin, his tension over the past almost-hour high enough that as soon as he loosens his hold on it, the water starts to evaporate from his clothes. He moves to get out of his boots and pauses at the array of shoes his are joining.

"Dabi!" Toga's voice is bright from the living room.

"Don't track in mud," Spinner mocks him from the same direction. He catches his breath, stops steaming, and hangs up his jacket before making his way in their direction with his bags.

Sure enough, the rest of the League is there, Shigaraki included, all gathered around in the living room. Looks like someone brought back takeout for lunch. "Don't you all have jobs?" They weren't supposed to be here. His eyes flit to Duster's and Shigaraki is watching him, but doesn't say anything as he pivots and starts to head towards the kitchen.

"Circumstances ended up bringing us all home a bit early." Compress remarks.

"Aren't you happy to see us? Bah, he's never happy!"

"What'd you get?" Toga asks as she bounces over from the living room to the island as he puts the bags down. Immediately reaches for the black bag that's clearly not from the grocery store and he reaches out and smacks her hand away reflexively, a few harmless sparks leaping off the back of his hand.

"None of your business, leech."

She sticks out her tongue as she moves to the other side of the island and he pulls the bag away and puts it beside the fridge so she can't grab for it again as he starts to unpack the groceries.

"Sorry for not giving you more forewarning," Compress tells him more reasonably.

Dabi can feel Shigaraki watching him. Knows that the longer that he waits to talk to him, the more trouble he'll be in. God, he's not even wearing his plug. He's going to be in so much trouble-- "You should be," Keeps turned fully towards the fridge and does his very best to not let his voice shake at all as he continues, "You're interrupting date night." Things go so quiet that he can hear every raindrop pattering against the window and then--

"Date night?!"

"I told you! Shiggy's been smelling like love for months!"

"There's no way-- I totally saw this coming!"

He feels his face heat, chances glancing at Duster while the others are getting so animated. Tomura is watching him, looks a little surprised himself, and then, his eyes go soft and warm. Maybe he is in love with him. Maybe whatever this fucked up thing he'd pushed on him is the only way he knew how to act on that. Doesn't exactly think that All For One or Kurogiri were teaching him any kind of sane form of affection. No excuse for what he's done, what Dabi knows he's going to keep making him do, but it's going to happen either way. An easier-to-look-at veneer is more for his sake than anything else.

"You know it's been ages since we went to Giran's. What? We just saw him--" Spinner elbows Twice hard in his sternum to cut off his contradiction.

"You're right dude, we should go over for poker night since we're all free for once."

"Aw but--" Toga immediately whines, wanting to soak up any potential threads of romance like a sponge.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Jin why don't you give him a call?" Compress says pointedly.

It's genuinely astounding how fast the others clear out, at that. And Dabi's gut turns at how... excited they are. Toga is beaming, hugs him and Shigaraki, Spinner gives Shig a thumbs up when he thinks Dabi won't notice. Happy for them, they make that abundantly clear before they're all gone again, willing to get soaked and head two districts over to go see Giran just to give them their privacy. Fuck, that would be so sweet of them if this were real. They're all gone in a matter of minutes and Dabi finishes putting the groceries away, sure that he's in for a punishment, and just waiting for it.

He tries to keep his quirk from spiking his temperature with his panic when, as soon as it's quiet in the house again, Shigaraki is moving towards him with deliberate steps. Opens his mouth to apologize, to say anything as he turns to face him, anything to try and make what happens next not hurt as badly-- Dabi doesn't expect for Shigaraki to catch him around the waist and pull him in, pressing in for a kiss. He lets out a soft sound of surprise, but Shigaraki just takes that as an opportunity to lick deeply into his mouth, backing him against the edge of the counter and holding him there. Keeps kissing him like neither of them need to breathe. Until Dabi has his hands tangled in his hair and he's trying to gasp against his lips to just get a second of reprieve,

"Tomura,"

Duster kisses any other words out of his mouth. Keeps going until Dabi's dizzy and his body is a little too hot. Not sure if it's his quirk or not. Doesn't think Shigaraki has kissed him like this before. Dabi... isn't sure anyone has ever kissed him like this. Like they can't get enough of him, like the thought of a millimeter of space between them is unthinkable. When Shigaraki does finally pull away, Dabi is dazed and then gagged with his nerves when those red eyes are so warm and so close to him. Adoring.

"I'm so proud of you, firefly." Knuckles running gently over his cheek. "I was beginning to think that you would never be ready to tell the others. Should have known you would surprise me. You always do."

Doesn't even mention his leaving. Not even a whisper of threat in his tone that warns him of an oncoming punishment. Okay, that's good, okay. He can... play along. That's what he's been doing anyway, hasn't it? "Barely seen you all day, didn't want them to spoil tonight."

"Yeah?" Tomura's tone is slightly amused as he presses a kiss to his cheek and along his jaw. "And what do you have planned for tonight, firefly?"

Humiliation turns his gut into sour knots, but he makes himself mirror that sweet smile on the other man's face. "Can I surprise you? You've been," he tries to put whatever is left in him to protest away. He needs to stay alive long enough to fight his father, keeping the monster obsessed with him happy is the only way that's going to happen. And after that, it won't matter anymore. He just has to get there. Already planning on doing anything to make it. What's one more horror? "So good to me while I've been getting used to things. I want to show you how much I appreciate that."

If anyone else had ever kissed him the way that Tomura does after hearing him say that, then Dabi thinks he might have doubted the end he'd been planning for himself. Because Shigaraki kisses him like he believes every drop of his affection is real. That this is love instead of something brutal and twisted. Dabi pretends for a second too, is breathless again by the time he's released. "Alright, precious. Do you need me to help with anything?"

"No, sir. I just want to make things perfect for you, Tomura." Hesitates with bile in the back of his throat as his face heats with his shame. Duster sees his hesitation and waits, "You were busy this morning, will you," really thinks he's going to be sick but if he can avoid getting maimed--but he still can't bring himself to ask for the plug. "I want to be ready for after dinner."

The next kiss has a little more heat in it as Shigaraki starts to steer him towards the stairs, "Of course, pretty boy, always happy to fill up your needy hole."

"Thank you, sir." Hopes he mistakes the thinness in his voice for arousal as they start to move towards the stairs.

///

There's real work to do through the late afternoon, the others gave updates while they were here, the monster maker is interested in rekindling their working relationship. It's all good stuff for the League, movements towards their goals. But Dabi is only half paying attention. Is really using the bout of normalcy to meditate on everything that's going to happen as soon as they stop working. Feels like that time comes in minutes instead of hours, but eventually Dabi excuses himself to go get started on dinner. Shigaraki lets him go, eyes still way too affectionate as he does. He preps for the meal meticulously, making sure that everything is as perfect as he can get it, and loads the final dish into the oven to cook while he goes about tidying up the rest of the downstairs.

The others came and went like a tornado which means that by the time he's finished cleaning it actually looks like he did something. But all too soon he's finished with that. Usually leaves prep dishes for after they've finished eating, but he isn't even sure they're going to get to eating tonight, certainly doesn't think he'll be able to delay the inevitable by claiming he needs to deal with them, so he might as well just take care of it all now. When everything is spotless and the smell of dinner is starting to waft around the house he stops dragging his feet and goes upstairs to get changed.

The black bag wasn't from anywhere particularly scandalous, it's not like there was a fetish store right next to the grocer, but he did not know how he would explain the clothes he got from the modest boutique any more than the plug he's been wearing around. He thinks that he would almost rather pull his skin from his staples instead of slipping into the lace-edged navy panties and matching bra and the dress he'd managed to grab. It's probably a good thing that he's so thin and not too tall, or finding anything in the shop that would have fit him at all would have probably been an impossibility. As is, the A-line black cocktail dress probably wouldn't have fit his broader shoulders if he had picked anything with sleeves instead of straps, but the fabric is just thick enough to cover his bra and sit comfortably over his shoulders, trailing down into the fitted bodice and flared skirt. He looks at himself in the mirror and wants to puke. Doesn't know how Shigaraki could look at him and see a housewife, but this will likely not dissuade him from the notion. Whatever. As long as he doesn't say anything about it in front of the others.

He forces himself to head back downstairs, giving a brief knock against Duster's door and calling, "Dinner should be ready in ten," before swiftly heading for the stairs. He puts his apron back on to keep his dress as tidy as everything else as he takes the chicken from the oven. Both it and the vegetables roasted alongside come out without any notable issues and he starts to plate things as he hears Tomura coming down the stairs. He is pulling the wine from the fridge when he comes into the room and doesn't force himself to acknowledge him a moment sooner than he has to.

Really not expecting to find he's not the only one who's dressed up as Shigaraki picks up the plates off of the counter, wearing black dress pants and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled. Never seen him in anything besides his villain stuff and his sleepwear. Takes him a second of his brain trying to play catch up with how well this 'date night' excuse has gone to cover his escape attempt before he remembers,

"You don't need to do that, sir. I'll get them--"

"I know, precious, but your hands are already full. You've already done so much today, baby, come sit down." Pauses him to press a kiss to his cheek and Dabi picks up the wine glasses and follows him over to the table. Tomura pulls his chair out for him like he's a gentleman and not a monster. "You look beautiful, precious."

He hates himself for how his face heats and how the blush doesn't feel as unhappy and humiliated as it did before. "Thank you, sir."

Dinner is kind of a blur. He thought he would be playing the simpering housewife, and he is to a degree, but not as large of one as he thought. Shigaraki wants him docile and adoring, but he still wants him, and the conversation shifts easily from work to books he's been reading, to things the others have been getting up to, and all the like. It's calm. The food turned out well. Dabi forces himself to eat even though his stomach is still tight with his dread and finds himself wishing he could drink enough to numb what's going to happen when they're finished, but with how high his nerves are he's more likely just to burn off the alcohol and end up being hung over in half an hour.

When they're finished eating, Dabi expects to be pushed along upstairs to get on his knees or roll over for the other villain, but Shigaraki helps him clear the table instead. He lets Dabi pull on his gloves and apron and start to wash the dishes, and to his surprise, Duster starts to dry them and put them away, the conversation continuing from the table. And for a split second, he feels it, sees it. The domesticity that could have been real if it had been allowed to bloom naturally. But it doesn't last long. Already mostly washed up before dinner, so soon enough Duster is putting away the last plate and Dabi is reluctantly taking off his apron and gloves again. Not a surprise when Shigaraki moves closer then, catching him with four fingers around his waist and he makes himself tilt his head to accept the kiss immediately.

"Let's go upstairs, beautiful."

"Okay," not like he really has a choice about that.

Shigaraki laces most of their fingers together on one hand and he follows along up the stairs. Is in Duster's room all too soon, and that is a bit of a surprise. Unless he's putting in his plug, Shigaraki always fucks him in his room. Makes his sheets smell like sex that Dabi can't escape without doing laundry constantly, hasn't ever fucked him in his bed before. He shivers slightly when Duster's cool fingers catch the edge of his jaw. Still not used to the coolness of his skin, doesn't know if he ever will be. But he lets the other man kiss him, heat starting to build in it as he's pulled in even closer.

He makes his hands work, reaching to start to undo the buttons on Tomura's shirt as the kiss deepens. He has to do this, has to survive. What's one more horror? Dabi forces himself to pretend. At least Shigaraki always wants it to feel good for both of them. At least he doesn't think he needs to be scared about being torn open and left bleeding on the sheets. He makes himself stop thinking. Anyone's hands on him, gently pushing him back until his legs hit the edge of the mattress. Someone else's shoulders he's pushing the fabric of their shirt over as he sinks onto the sheets. Doesn't work very well as he spreads his legs so that Duster can climb between them and it's a careful four-fingered touch that's just starting to push up the hem of his skirt.

"So beautiful in this, baby girl. Didn't know you wanted to get dressed up like this." Mouth moving across his jaw to find the sensitive parts of his neck and send heat spilling out alongside his humiliation in his veins.

"...I thought you would like it, sir."

"I do, princess." Voice dripping with his affection and arousal as he finds the zipper running down his back. Dabi blushes hotly as he arches up, pressing more of their bodies together so that he can catch it and start to tug it down. Hates how good the coolness of Shigaraki's body feels against his heated skin as he does. Pulls the zipper low and then starts to slip the straps from his shoulders as he kisses along the same path his hands are traveling. "Do you want to dress like this for me again, sweetheart?"

No. "Okay, but," his face is so hot as Duster pulls the bodice down his body and sees his bra. Red eyes darken and he can feel him hardening against his thigh. Mortifying how seeing that want, feeling it, is making his own start to spike nervously higher. "Just for you? I-- I don't want anyone else--"

Tomura catches his lips in another more demanding kiss, swallows up his breath and words before he has him kicking away his dress as he settles back between his legs. Can't help the startled moan that slips out into the kiss as his hands move across his body and tease at his nipple piercings through the fabric cupping his chest. "That's fine, precious, I know you're shy. Can just be something for us." Eyes dragging over him and lingering half hard and already straining the soft fabric of his panties. "I'll have to get you some more things to wear. Will hardly be able to keep my hands off of you knowing you're dressed so cute under your other clothes."

Lets that tangle up in equal parts arousal and misery as he realizes Tomura is going to keep him in panties as constantly as he keeps him full of his plug. But Sir is trying to make the arousal sit higher in his veins. Seems to want to work him up tonight and knows all of the places that he needs to touch to get that happening faster. Made worse by the constant press of the plug in him, and as his arousal grows, it makes his prostate more sensitive. Every little shift has it prodding against him more intensely and he can't help it when he squirms just wrong and it settles with a pressure firm enough to have a loud moan slipping from between his lips, his hips immediately jumping, wanting to get friction against his aching cock and back again against the plug. He whimpers when he feels how hard Tomura is too.

"Ready for more, baby?" Lips pressing sweetly against his as fingers trail lower, until he's stroking him through his panties. Dabi's insides tighten unhappily, but that just puts more pressure inside of him, makes his nerves tingle with more of the unwanted pleasure. But he knows what he's supposed to say,

"Please, sir?" Glad that Duster kisses him again, that he can pretend that he's just so needy for more that it's impatience that has a weak sob slipping from his lips as the sound of him undoing his belt is so loud in the quiet room. He doesn't have long before the last barrier between their skin is removed and he's trying to shift to get onto his hands and knees. Prefers that when Shigaraki does this. At least then he can hide his face against the pillows and sheets, can muffle some of his sobs, and save himself a little of the indignity he's being forced to endure.

But Shigaraki stops him today, makes him settle with his head against the pillows, and his legs spread wide for him. One hand comes up to stroke his thumb across his cheek. Smears away one of the thin trickles of blood that have managed to sneak out from his eyes. "Stay like this, darling, I want to see you." The other hand moves to catch the base of his plug and Dabi wants to hide, wants to turn his face away as he lets out another moan as it drags along his slick, twitching walls as it's pulled free. "Always blush the prettiest pink when we make love."

His whole body tenses before he can stop himself, his temperature spiking slightly with his distress. Doesn't know why that upsets him so much, already knew in the back of his mind that's what this was for Shigaraki. But hearing it makes a pain blossom inside of him that he doesn't know what to do with or even where it's come from. Hits him so hard that his distress is plain even through the delusion that Shigaraki has constructed for them apparently, because the next second he's pressing their foreheads together and shushing him gently.

"It's alright, baby boy. I know you're not there yet. I can wait for you to be ready, as long as you know how much I love you, firefly." Tomura, thankfully, doesn't make him respond. Just gives him more sweet, soft kisses as he starts to press inside. Dabi throws himself into the way his nerves all lit up at being so much fuller, anything to distract him from the agony alight in his chest that he hadn't expected when he'd been resigning himself to the horrors he knew would be coming for him tonight. It's easier for him to suffuse his body with the shame that his reluctant pleasure gives him as Tomura moves inside of him, as his lips and hands move over his body than to accept anything else that is happening in his chest or head now.

Tomura makes love to him, fucks him, uses him as a receptacle for his fantasies. Makes him fall apart again and again until he's barely conscious, and then pulls him close and keeps murmuring his affection against his hair and skin. It's a mercy when the blackness of sleep finally comes for him, even if that doesn't guarantee that Shigaraki won't use him again while his mind is quiet.

///

When he wakes next it's to light pressing in against the curtains, blankets angled around his naked skin, and his face tucked tight against Duster's chest. Clinging to the other man in his sleep. His distress and disgust swell because the hands petting along his back are so light, not holding him here. Dabi tries to disentangle himself without getting dusted and startles when he feels a weight around his wrist and hears the tinkling sound of metal on metal.

The suppression cuff is hooked around his left wrist when he pulls his hand into view. He tries automatically, stupidly, to bring his quirk to the surface of his skin, but it's like missing a step in the dark, leaves him fumbling and terrified. "Tomura?"

Immediately gets a kiss pressed to the crown of his head before Duster catches his chained hand and laces most of their fingers together. "Last night was wonderful, sweetheart, I loved my surprise. But I told you that you had to stay put. You still deliberately disobeyed me." Brings their entwined knuckles to his lips so he can press a kiss there too. "So from now on you're going to come to my room when it's time for bed, and we're going to sleep like this until I can trust you to be good again." Never going to let him sleep in his own bed again, he knows instinctively. Going to keep him as close as possible until he's his docile, perfect pet, or at least until Dabi acts like it.

"Yes, sir." His voice is barely his with how small it is. As far as punishments go, it could still be so much worse. Not like having a separate place to sleep ever protected him from Shigaraki in the first place. Doesn't put up any resistance when he catches his chin with two more fingers and tilts his head up to give him a kiss.

"Good boy. Are you ready to get up, sweetheart? Not sure when the others will be home, want to make sure you're all ready for the day."

///

They didn't need to rush, though Dabi was honestly more than happy to exchange the handcuff for the more familiar helplessness of his plug, because the others creep in around the mid-afternoon, poking their heads into the living room like they're afraid they're going to find them fucking on the island. Not that Shigaraki hasn't fucked him on the island before, but whatever. As soon as they see they're just sitting in the living room, finished with work stuff, and Dabi's just listening to one of his books while waiting for the laundry to finish as Duster taps away at one of his games, their trepidation quickly leaves and they pour into the room.

"How was--" Spinner cuffs Toga across the back of her head and parries the immediate retaliation of one of her knives to cut off her question.

"Welcome back," Duster says with some amusement. Dabi decides, for his sanity, he's going to ignore it all and pulls his headphones off of his ears.

"You guys eat yet?"

A round of negatives and he starts towards the kitchen. It's kind of a surprise that Compress follows him there as Toga definitely tries to get any details she can out of Shigaraki, and Twice and Spinner try to reign her in. At least Compress knows how to cook, and they start to make lunch in a mostly comfortable silence as the others grow more raucous in the room beyond. It's only when Twice has launched into a rambling story riddled with loud contradictions, that Mister catches his attention and speaks softly under the din.

"Thank you for everything you've been doing, Dabi."

He shrugs, "It's not a big deal, barely have anything to do while Duster has me on lockdown." Not expecting Compress to gently catch his elbow and he really hopes the leather of his gloves is thick enough that the older man doesn't feel his temperature spike with his fear.

"It's a bigger deal than I think you know, Dabi." Still careful and soft, speaking quietly enough to not draw attention from the others even as his eyes stray back towards the living room. "I don't know what your family situation was like," and god fucking damn it, does Compress just seem to be finding every sore spot to poke at right now. Though thankfully he doesn't keep touching his arm when Dabi pulls away. "But it's clear that the others have never had a home before. I don't think any of them are even capable of telling you how much it means that you've been going out of your way to care for them, and the house, and to treat them like family. This fight will be long, drawn-out, and brutal, and for as much conviction as Shigaraki has, we already know that all of us may not survive to see the end of it. You showing them what it's like to have a home may be the only time they ever get to experience it at all."

A lump swells in his throat. Toga snarking at Spinner. Twice is gesticulating wildly as he continues to tell his story to Shigaraki, his cheek resting against his knuckles and listening with a wry, amused affection that he never saw on him while they were in Kamino. A home. A family. Shigaraki raped me. The words are choking him. He could say them. He could turn to Compress right now and tell him, ask for help. Compress isn't like the others. He's older, more level-headed, definitely the most stable and mature. Compress would help if he thought he could. And Dabi would destroy the home the League has made here, found with each other. Sour every good memory they have in this house. Doesn't even want to think what Shigaraki will do in the wake of his delusion being broken. If he'll receive the brunt of his retaliation or if the League will. No. He swallows the lump, hides away the words. Locks them up deep inside where he's locked up his name. He's already going to burn one family to ashes. He's not going to do the same to the one he actually... likes.

"God you're way too melodramatic, Mister." His voice sounds more level than he'd expected it to. Finishes getting things swiftly enough and then calls to the others, "Yo, food's ready."

They make their way into the kitchen, still lively as ever, Spinner's got some new game for them to play after they actually debrief. They get their food with scattered thanks and Dabi waits until most of them are headed towards the table before he catches Duster's sleeve between two fingers to pull him to a stop. Only manages to take a shaky little breath before he closes the space between them for the first time. Tomura stills, thinks he might have actually surprised the other man again. But then he curls a hand around the back of his neck and turns it softer and deeper than Dabi would have on his own.

When he pulls back Dabi barely manages to breathe, "I love you." The words aren't for Shigaraki. Not now. Maybe someday he'll be able to pretend that they're real, pretend that he means them. But right now he says those words while looking at the monster who's taken more of him than he even thought he had left, and he whispers them for the friends who are whistling and mocking them from the other side of the room. He's only ever endured his suffering for hate before, and that left him half insane in his isolation before he found them. Maybe enduring this, knowing that they'll get to hold onto their happiness a little longer for each moment he does, will be easier with his love for them sitting in his chest and worn on the apron draped around his neck.

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