Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You stink like pigeon,” Shigaraki’s lip curled.

Dabi grinned, wide and dangerous, heart skipping in his chest.

“Not just that. You want a taste? You can lick his jizz out of my ass, if you want. Real sweet, clean too, nothing like you. You should hear the shit he whispered in my ear, all tender and caring, I think he’s halfway in love with me. Thinks I’m someone he can save. Maybe I’ll let him, if his dick is that good, let him pamper me all day and fuck me all night. Man, I’d never come that hard before. Really think he made me turn over a new leaf. Properly- mmphh.”

Shigaraki’s hand closed over his mouth, four fingers digging into his skin.

A staple popped out of place. He was bleeding already, and they’d barely even begun.

Shiggy’s eyes were so close, too close, his breath hot and fast, spit landing on his face when he spoke. Growled, too loud, too harsh.

“You’re not going to remember his taste when I’m done with you. Not even going to think his name. You are mine, I don’t fucking share my things.”

The hand slipped down to his throat, twitched.

“I don’t know, kinda seems like you do,” just to feel the hand tighten. Just to see Shigaraki’s eyes flash with a deeper rage.

“I’m going to end you, brat, I’m going to show you how I treat disloyal pets. I’ll fucking kill you both if you let him touch you again.”

Dabi was so hard it hurt.

“Kill him first so I can watch,” he was breathless, and not from the constriction.

The hand tightened.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like he treats you. Tender and caring? No, no no no, not for you.”

“What do I deserve?”

Shigaraki laughed, sharp, a crazed gleam in his eyes.

“Get on your knees.”

“Nah.”

“I said get on your knees!”

A single harsh shove. Dabi hit the ground, knees colliding with concrete. He winced, watched the way his pain sparked pleasure in Shigaraki.

He wanted to beg, wanted to meet Shigaraki’s gaze and say ‘treat me like I deserve’, but unfortunately Shigaraki was right: he was a brat. He only wanted this if it was taken from him.

“Why the fuck would I ever stay with you? Ugly fucking freak, he’s so much hotter than you, and his dick is-“

Shigaraki kicked him in the stomach, grabbed him by the hair before he could double over, pulled out his dick and shoved it into his mouth.

He couldn’t breathe. The blow hurt. The air had been knocked from his lungs. Shigaraki was thrusting into his throat, blocking his airway.

He reached down, and pinched his nose.

Dabi shuddered, thrashed, ached.

He wanted it, wanted it so much, just like this.

Unsure if Shigaraki was going to scar him, maim him, kill him.

The danger made him feel alive.

“You only breathe if I want you to. Your life is mine brat. Fucking thank me for it.”

He released his nose, yanked his head back and let him take a breath, waited for an apology.

They both knew it wouldn’t happen.

“Fuck you,” and Dabi yawned.

He felt the slap coming. Of course he did. He knew what he was doing.

Asking for pain.

Asking for cruelty.

Making damn sure that no one would ever be able to love him.

That was the thought that hit his mind a second before the hand, harder than the hit.

As always, he was grateful for the pain, when it carried everything else away.

Shigaraki didn’t pause for the cutting words he would have sent his way, he just hit him again, and shoved his cock back into his throat.

Dabi’s hands were wrapped tight around his own stomach. He didn’t cling to Shigaraki’s legs, this wasn’t that kind of relationship.

Their intimacy was the violence they shared.

The hand returned to his neck, gripped tight while Shigaraki started to thrust, sharp shoves that jolted Dabi’s head, aching in his throat.

His head grew light.

It hurt.

He was dizzy with movement and lack of air.

With the other hand Shigaraki closed off his nostrils again.

Dabi wanted to scream.

He wanted to come.

He might have cried, had he been able to.

His body was panicking, but his mind was still.

Hawks had held him like a treasured thing, hands cupping his cheeks, running light down his spine and pulling him in. He’d kissed him and it had felt like sitting in a beam of sunshine, warm and safe, simple.

His body had been calm, but his mind had not.

If he hadn’t been their informant he might have burnt him to a crisp, there in that bed while he thrust into him so slowly, while he said so many awful incorrect things.

He had told him he was beautiful. Told him he should get to feel good. Told him he wanted him happy and safe and content. Told him he shouldn’t be in pain.

Dabi hated him for that.

Here, with his body hurting, so close to passing out, he felt the horror slip from him.

He was pain. To take that away was to take him away, like the drugs a psych ward would give him if he was captured, like a lobotomy.

He’d rather die, like this, than have the truth crushed from him by one more tender touch.

His arms dropped to his sides.

He let Shigaraki take him, to whatever place he decided he should go, he was his after all.

His belonging, his object, his gun.

He was of use to him, and that was so much better than love.

Love faded easily. It meant nothing.

Shigaraki would fuck him until he didn’t want to anymore, but he was a good weapon, he wouldn’t just throw him away.

And if he wasn’t good for that anymore? Well, maybe he would accept it the second time around.

Shigaraki wouldn’t leave him like Endeavour had, if he decided he wasn’t of use, Shigaraki would make sure he was well and truly dead.

This was his, forever, whatever that would mean.

He was safe in the knowledge that he would never be abandoned again.

Shigaraki came down his throat, and Dabi didn’t push him away, even as he felt consciousness slip from him.

He let it.

It didn’t belong to him.

Nothing did. That was the thing with being owned.

He wondered, absently, if he was going to die.

He floated.

Fuzzy, warm. Then darkness.

Consciousness was a slap to the face, literally. Shigaraki slapped him hard.

“Ow,” he rubbed at the side of his face. His hand came away bloody, but then it usually did.

Shigaraki grabbed him by the collar and shook him. He let himself shake, ragdoll in his grip.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were about to pass out? Did the smoke get to your brain? Are you fucking stupid?”

Dabi grinned, licked his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to fuck me limp.”

Shigaraki’s hands were shaking slightly.

Must have been a good orgasm, he supposed.

“You’re unbearable. I fucking hate you.”

A pleasant shiver went up his spine.

“Keep talking nasty to me. Tell me how beneath you I am, hurt me some more, I’ve still gotta come.”

Shigaraki’s nostrils flared.

“What makes you think I’m going to let you enjoy this?”

Dabi ran a hand over his own bulge, grinding down hard, too impatient to undo his pants.

“You going to deny me boss?” He was panting a little. His body ached with pleasure. He was so close. “Wanna make me go to the bird to get my kicks?”

He honestly thought Shigaraki would kick him again. He waited for it, yearned for it, let his hand fall away and his legs slip open, just to provide a range of targets.

Shigaraki pushing him to the floor, slotting their lips together and kissing him furiously, while his hand pulled down his pants and wrapped around his cock, was not one of the options he had considered.

He braced for the pain of decay. Trembling in his touch.

That would be one way to bring him to heel, he supposed.

He whimpered a little, when it didn’t come, when he realised there was a finger still carefully raised while Shigaraki stroked.

“This is mine. You will not give it to him anymore. You understand? It’s mine.”

Dabi swallowed, looked away.

This didn’t feel safe anymore.

“Choke me again,” his voice sounded wrong. Thin and small. He hated it, hated this.

Shigaraki’s expression was all wrong too. He refused to put the sight into words. He didn’t want to know the meaning.

“You won’t tell me if I do it too long and I need you alive,” crackling like static. He couldn’t read the tone.

As a weapon, he told himself, as a toy.

He looked away.

“I don’t die easy.”

He could feel Shigaraki’s heartbeat in the hand that reached for his neck, beating so fast, and the knowledge felt too much like intimacy.

He growled.

“Even the bird hurts me better than you,” it was a lie. It was a complete and utter lie, because no one hurt him like Shigaraki, in ways that felt so much like safety. Like coming home probably did to people who knew what that felt like, who’d had one, a proper one, to begin with.

He wanted him to rip out his throat.

“Then go,” no, that wasn’t what he wanted. “Be his whore,“ the hand loosened. “Fucking choke yourself to death on his heroic dick for all I fucking care. Let him cry over your corpse, I won’t,” he tried to pull away.

Tried, because Dabi reached up, quick as a viper, and pulled the hand tight to his neck. He held it there, breathing heavily, while Shigaraki twitched. While Shigaraki fought to keep a finger raised.

“Hurt me,” his own hand was starting to smoke, “like you fucking mean it.” Shigaraki hissed. Dabi held on. “I can’t believe, after all your dumb fucking speeches, you’re really so much of a loser that you’re just going to hand your things over to a fucking hero. How pathetic can you be? Do I or do I not belong to you?” He could smell Shigaraki’s flesh sizzling. “Coward.”

His heart was pounding in his chest. He wanted to run. He wanted to burn this place to the ground.

He wanted pain, wanted it to sweep the rest away. He didn’t want to have to keep thinking dangerous words, let alone hearing them come out of his mouth.

He hated the way Shigaraki was looking at him.

He hated the way his own face felt cracked open.

Staples wouldn’t fix this, but maybe he would try. Maybe he could get Shigaraki to do it, press cold metal through flesh until his face stopped spilling his secrets, but that would be too close to trust.

And Shigaraki was someone he could trust, because he closed his face off, replaced it with the safety of rage.

Dabi’s shoulders relaxed. He released his grip, admiring the burns he left, stark against pale skin.

Shigaraki didn’t even flinch, didn’t seem to notice.

The pressure on his neck tightened.

He didn’t need to breathe.

“Mine, mine, mine. Mine to fuck, mine to hurt, mine to kill. You don’t bend over for anyone else. You don’t look at anyone else. I’ll chain you to this bed if you can’t keep yourself under control. Filthy fucking slut.” He spat in his face. “You’d fuck anything that moved. I don’t know why I expected any better. You’re nothing but a hole.”

Dabi shivered.

“Chains would burn me.”

“Like I give a shit.”

Yeah, this was what he wanted. Ownership, and disregard.

Shigaraki’s nails scraped at his skin, digging in. He let himself fall into it, let go.

A too tight grip around his cock and a single agonising pull was all it took for him to tumble over.

He twitched. Trapped, hurt, ecstatic.

He was glad, when Shigaraki didn’t let go, held on while oversensitivity screamed in him.

He was silent, when it hurt like that, like he never was.

Lay still while nails scored his skin, while the hand pumped and pumped, while Shigaraki bit his nipples hard enough he wondered if his teeth would go through.

It didn’t matter. He wanted Shigaraki to devour him.

He came a second time, from pain more than anything else, and it was better, so much better, than gentle hands and loving words.

Shigaraki rolled off him, curled up on the bed, facing away.

Dabi stared at the ceiling. Afterglow a burst of agony, soothing his nerves. He reached for a cigarette, lit it with a finger, watched smoke curl up to the roof as he smoked.

“He’s more likely to let his guard down if I keep fucking him.”

“Do what you want. I don’t give a fuck.”

Shigaraki’s voice was muffled, hollow.

“He’s useful.” He glanced at the back of his head, the curve of his neck, the scratches that left bloodstains on the bedspread. “He’ll never own me.”

Shigaraki turned to lie on his back, reached for the cigarette. He didn’t spare him a glance.

“I don’t like the way he tastes.”

Dabi watched him smoke, watched the bob of his throat, the pull of his lips. He wanted to lick the sweat from him.

“He’s too clean.”

Shigaraki looked at him, breathed smoke into his face. Dabi inhaled.

“Good slut. Breathe what I give you.”

And he did.

There were some things that Hawks would never understand.