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Hate Is a Strong Word

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“You need the shut the fuck up before I make you shut up, fucker.”

Shigaraki pressed his hand tighter against Dabi’s throat. Backed up against the wall, one finger away from death, and the bastard just cracked a grin and said, “Is that a promise, creep?”

Shigaraki dropped his hand and Dabi rubbed his throat. “I’d be careful, boss. One of these days you’re going to end up choking someone who begs you to squeeze harder.”

Shigaraki stared incredulously at the scarred villain. He’d often wondered where Dabi had gotten those scars, but now he was beginning to wonder if someone had lit him on fire in annoyance. Shigaraki wouldn’t blame them. In fact, right about now he’d give a goddamn reward to whoever could wipe that permanent smirk off Dabi’s face. 

“Do you have a death wish or something?” 

“You won’t kill me,” Dabi said with the confidence of a man who needed to be taught a lesson.

Shigaraki’s hands clenched into fists as he resisted the urge to prove Dabi wrong. “You willing to test that theory?”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Shigaraki slammed Dabi back against the wall. Dabi’s breath came out in a wheezed laugh. 

“What kind of game do you think you’re playing?” Shigaraki growled. He pressed four fingers into Dabi’s chest, effectively pinning him to the wall. If he even breathed too much, Shigaraki's fifth finger would brush against Dabi’s stupidly low cut shirt. “You think you hold any cards? You’re a pawn Dabi, nothing more. I’m the king."

Dabi rolled his eyes. “You and your stupid metaphors piss me off.” He grabbed Shigaraki’s hand and pulled it away from his chest. Shigaraki couldn’t do anything without the risk of activating his quirk and Dabi knew it. “I’m the one with the power in this relationship,” Dabi continued, tightening his grip on Shigaraki’s hand. “I don’t need your help to take down society. The League is just making things a little easier. But you? You need me, boss, and you can’t afford to lose me.”

Shigaraki’s fingers twitched in Dabi’s palm, aching to shut him up. But Dabi was right. He couldn’t kill him. He was too useful. He couldn’t do anything to stop Dabi from rambling because he would never take any threat from Shigaraki seriously. Shigaraki had nothing on him. No leverage. No authority. 

It irritated him. Got under his skin and made it itch. Shigaraki hated a lot of people, and a lot of things in general, but Dabi brought with him a special kind of hate that few people had ever matched. No one else was so consistently annoying. The rest of the League had their moments, but for the most part they at least held a healthy degree of respect or fear for Shigaraki. Not Dabi. It was like he made it his life’s work to distract Shigaraki and remind him that he wasn’t yet the unquestionable leader he was meant to be. 

Dabi opened his mouth, likely to say something else infuriating, and Shigaraki did the only thing he could think of that would keep those lips from moving. 

He felt the press of Dabi’s dry lips against his own for only a second before Dabi shoved him off. 

For a few blissful seconds, Dabi was silent. Then his eyes narrowed with furious intensity. 

“What the fuck."

It was Shigaraki’s turn to smile. “Oh sorry, the way you were going on about me choking you I thought you must want me to fuck you or something.”

Dabi spat, like Shigaraki’s spit being anywhere in proximity to his own would cause an allergic reaction. “I wouldn’t fuck your crusty ass even if you paid me. And besides, kissing and fucking have nothing to do with each other.”

Shigaraki raised an eyebrow. “Don’t they?” 

Dabi blinked in confusion and Shigaraki smiled. He’d knocked the bastard off his rhythm and it felt good. 

His victory only lasted a second before Dabi surged forward and smashed his lips into Shigaraki’s. Shigaraki stepped back in surprise but Dabi chased his lips with a growl. His hands tangled in Shigaraki’s hair, preventing him from pulling back. Shigaraki had half a second to hope that his hair wouldn’t get caught in Dabi’s staples before he was distracted by Dabi’s tongue darting out, prodding into Shigaraki’s mouth. Shigaraki let him in before biting down. Dabi jerked back. 

“Bastard,” he hissed, rubbing at his mouth. 

“Don’t take more than you can handle,” Shigaraki shot back. “Or you’ll regret it.”

“I’ll take whatever I want to take,” Dabi said, almost petulantly. “And I’ve never regretted anything in my life.”

Shigaraki ignored that obvious lie in favor of weighing the pros and cons to what he was considering doing. He could let it end there. Let Dabi have the last word. Let the taste of his lips linger as they pretend this never happened.

Or he could break Dabi. Force him to submit and acknowledge Shigaraki’s superiority. Take him apart so slowly he’d be begging for relief. It was a pretty picture, to be sure. But how to put the asshole in his place? How to get from here to there?

Dabi’s face was faintly flushed, and he was considering Shigaraki with watchful eyes. He was likely weighing a similar list of pros and cons. Then Dabi’s face settled into determination, and Shigaraki knew what he had decided. Shigaraki let a predatory smile break across his face. Well then. He would just have to win, wouldn’t he? He licked his lips. This was going to be fun.  

They crashed together, lips and teeth and hands, neither of them wanting to back off first, neither wanting to concede defeat. Shigaraki nipped at Dabi’s lip and Dabi retaliated by yanking Shigaraki’s hair. Dabi dug his nails into Shigaraki’s back and Shigaraki countered by pressing his knee to Dabi’s groin. 

Dabi moaned into Shigaraki’s mouth, and Shigaraki’s lips turned up in satisfaction. 

He grabbed the hem of Dabi’s shirt with two fingers and started pulling them backwards, towards the door of Shigaraki’s bedroom. Dabi came willingly, which only bolstered Shigaraki’s confidence. Their lips broke apart. Dabi’s eyes blazed with hunger and greed. Shigaraki couldn’t wait to turn that look into something more suitable. If Dabi thought this was going to end up in his favor, he would be sorely mistaken. 

“Last chance to back out,” Shigaraki offered, knowing Dabi would never take him up on it. They had both crossed a line there was no turning back from the second their lips had touched. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi growled, pushing Shigaraki backwards and pressing his back into the firm mattress. “You talk too much.”

Dabi leaned over him, taking Shigaraki’s lips into his own and sliding one hand underneath Shigaraki’s shirt. Dabi’s fingers skimmed up Shigaraki’s chest, then back down, nails scraping lightly against his flesh.

Shigaraki felt something inside him stir at the sensation, and, not wanting to lose control over the situation, grabbed Dabi’s throat with four fingers and maneuvered him until Shigaraki was looking down over the scarred villain. His knees settled down on either side of Dabi’s hips. Dabi glared up at him, but didn’t let his new position stop him from slipping a hand under Shigaraki’s waistband and rubbing aggressively at the barrier of fabric between his hand and Shigaraki’s dick. It took all of Shigaraki’s control not to make a noise of pleasure as the friction sent shivers down his back. His fingers twitched around Dabi’s throat, and his other hand settled on Dabi’s shoulder. His fingernails dug into the scarred skin, but Dabi didn’t react. 

“I bet you think you have me at your mercy, right boss?" Dabi said teasingly, grinding a knuckle against Shigaraki’s cock. It twitched. “Do you get pleasure from this, me laying under you? Does it make you feel powerful?”

Rage swelled within Shigaraki and he tightened his grip around Dabi’s throat. Dabi’s scarred skin was dry, and he wondered if he could feel anything, with it so burnt. Dabi gasped a little and Shigaraki loosened his grip. He didn’t want him to pass out, there’d be no fun in that. He wanted Dabi to look at him while he fucked him senseless. Shigaraki slid his knee up until it pressed into Dabi’s crotch. Dabi squirmed beneath him. 

“Still feeling cocky?” Shigaraki asked, leaning into Dabi and feeling his dick harden underneath his thigh. 

Dabi slid his other hand to Shigraki’s waistband, tucked his fingers around the edge, and tugged down. “I’m feeling something, all right.”

Shigaraki’s pants slid past his hips, revealing the growing bulge in his boxers. Dabi smirked at the sight.

“Who knew how easy it would be to get you hard? You don’t do this often, do you?”

The urge to utterly wreck the man lying under him, to destroy him, to ruin…

“You don’t seem like a virgin though,” Dabi mused. “Did you ever bring people back to that hovel of a bar you lived in?”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Shigaraki replied hotly, ignoring the virgin comment (Shigaraki was glad his confidence was masking his lack of experience, the two times he’d tried to do anything like this before had gone...poorly, to say the least.) “It’s not like you were living in a mansion.” 

Dabi laughed. “If only you knew…”

Dabi slid his hands around Shigaraki’s ass and pulled him down into a searing kiss. As Dabi tugged on Shigaraki’s lower lip with his teeth, his hands traveled up Shigaraki’s back, raising the hem of his shirt and exposing it to the open air. Shigaraki pulled back. No way was Dabi taking Shigaraki’s shirt off. Not while Dabi was still fully clothed. It was unacceptable. Shigaraki was the one in control. The one with the power. 

“Take your shirt off,” Shigaraki ordered. 

“No.” 

Shigaraki dug three fingers into Dabi’s shoulder. “The fuck’s your problem,” he said, reveling in Dabi’s wince at Shigaraki’s nails pressing into his scarred skin. “You think I’m going to think you’re ugly? It’s a little late for that.”

“Fuck you,” Dabi spat back. “It’s not like you’re pretty to look at either. Besides, I don’t need to take my shirt off to have sex.”

“You insecure, or something?”

“Fuck you,” Dabi said again, but this time it sounded more personal. Shigaraki must have struck a nerve. He smiled.   

“I think I’m going to be the one fucking you."

“Not if you spend all night talking, you’re not. I’m going to get bored soon if you don’t do anything. Of course, I’d be more than willing to be the one in charge.”

Shigaraki laughed. “Yeah right. You love to take it easy, don’t you?” 

“Just get on with it, bastard.”

“With pleasure,” Shigaraki said. “As soon as you take your shirt off.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes. “If I’m getting naked just so you can have some sort of power trip or whatever, forget it.”

Shigaraki glared. Okay so maybe it was a power trip thing. Maybe he liked the idea of Dabi being exposed and vulnerable as he pounded him into the mattress. But the fact that Dabi had so easily read his intentions was fucking irritating. 

“Will it make you feel better if I take my clothes off too?” 

Dabi considered for a second, eyeing him up and down. Shigaraki could practically feel the curiosity. “Fuck. Alright fine." He sat up a little and pulled his shirt off. “Brat,” he said, throwing it in Shigaraki’s face. 

Shigaraki caught the shirt in one clenched hand and let the disintegrated fabric float down onto Dabi’s bare chest. 

“Fucking asshole," Dabi growled, brushing the remains of his shirt off. 

Shigaraki smiled. He grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt over his head with three fingers, then dropped it on the floor. Dabi’s eyes roved approvingly down his chest but Shigaraki didn’t give him time to comment. “Pants next,” he demanded. “No throwing them unless you want to walk home naked.”

Dabi glowered, but reached for his belt. As he unbuckled it and slid it out of the loops, Shigaraki studied how the skin on his chest tugged at the staples. Like one wrong move would rip him open.

“Your body’s messed up,” Shigaraki said, faintly disgusted, but also slightly fascinated at the same time. He knew Dabi was held together by nothing more than sheer willpower, but he’d never been so close to him before. Never seen the tug and stretch of healthy skin fighting the pull of metal.  

“Are you trying to make me light you on fire?” Dabi asked as he finally slid his pants down his bony hips. Shigaraki tugged them the rest of the way off, throwing them across the room impatiently. Dabi’s dick was as ugly as the rest of him, but at least it didn’t have any staples. 

“You’d better have lube, creep.”

“In the drawer,” Shigaraki replied distractedly as he slipped off his own pants. It wasn’t that he was self-conscious - he didn’t give a rat’s ass what Dabi thought of him - but something about being so exposed to Dabi was...uncomfortable. Like Dabi would somehow turn it against him. Which was absurd, because Dabi was laying under him just as naked, and Shigaraki was in control. 

There was a snort as Dabi judged Shigaraki’s unopened bottle of lube. Shigaraki grabbed it from Dabi’s hand and flipped open the lid. 

“Don’t jump to conclusions.” 

Shigaraki lifted Dabi’s legs and draped them over his shoulders. Dabi locked his ankles, drawing Shigaraki closer so that their heads were almost touching. Their dicks brushed against each other, and Shigaraki felt a shiver of something go through him. Anticipation or need or desire. He saw that same something reflected in Dabi’s own eyes. Shigaraki wondered if he ever fantasized about this. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Dabi said. 

Shigaraki leaned down and kissed Dabi’s scarred lips. He let Dabi take the lead this time. Let him feel like he had control of the situation so it would taste that much better when he ripped it away. Then he pulled back, tugging on Dabi’s bottom lip with his teeth, feeling the seam of the scar that split it down the middle. 

“You need to learn your place," he growled as he pressed a slick finger against Dabi’s entrance, reveling in the surprised twitch it elicited from the scarred man. Without preface, he slid his finger in up to the knuckle. Dabi gasped then squirmed under him, trying to shove deeper onto Shigaraki’s finger. Shigaraki smirked and pulled his finger out. Dabi let out a little whine. 

Already losing control. Perfect. Shigaraki took himself in hand, spreading the excess lube onto his shaft. Dabi eyed him hungrily. 

“You’re so eager for me to fuck you,” Shigaraki said. “How long have you been wanting this?”

Dabi looked up into Shigaraki’s eyes, brushing off the insult with practiced ease. “You’re the one coming off as eager. Poor repressed creep, ready to stick his dick in anything that will accept it. You’re lucky I have zero standards.” 

Shigaraki let go of Dabi's cock and slammed his palms into his shoulders, holding him down and resisting the urge to clench his fingers, to bury them in Dabi’s flesh. Dabi shifted under him, trying to avoid the touch of his fingers, but Shigaraki leaned down harder, pushing Dabi into the mattress as far as it would allow. 

Then Dabi’s skin moved in a sickening, nauseating slide as a staple tore free. Dabi hissed, and Shigaraki froze, looking at the juncture of Dabi’s neck and chest. A trickle of blood slipped out, beading on the skin between his healthy and scarred skin. Dabi gave a dark chuckle.

“Scared of a little blood?”

“It’s gross,” Shigaraki said as he leaned back, smearing the blood a little with his finger before tearing his eyes away from the small wound.

“Shouldn’t have sex with someone like me if you aren’t willing to accept the consequences.”

“Hmm,” Shigaraki said, noncommittally. “Are you going to fall to pieces if I fuck you?”

Dabi eyed him suspiciously, like he wasn’t sure which answer would give him the desired result. “I’m not fragile,” he eventually said. Shigaraki dug a finger into the wound, hard.

“Ow! Fuck you, asshole!” Dabi swatted Shigaraki’s hand away. A small trail of blood smeared down Dabi’s pale chest.

“Would you look at that. Turns out you are breakable after all.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes. “If you say that one more time...”

“I’m not interested in losing one of my most valuable assets because he can’t be bothered to keep his skin from falling off.”

“So that’s it? A little blood and you’re worried about breaking me?”

Shigaraki raised an eyebrow. Dabi had no idea what he was in for, did he? “On the contrary,” Shigaraki said, smearing the blood a little more with his finger. “There’s more than one way to break someone.”

Shigaraki stuck his slightly bloody finger in Dabi’s mouth, rubbing it against Dabi’s lips and using his saliva to clean the blood off. 

“Look at you, you filthy freak,” he said. “I’m going to have fun destroying you.”

Dabi’s eyes narrowed. He sucked Shigaraki’s finger into his mouth. Shigaraki’s heart fluttered uncomfortably in his chest as he pulled his finger away. Dabi made a show of licking his lips. 

“Confident, aren’t you?” Dabi said with a smirk. “It’s not going to be as easy as you think. By the end of this, you’re the one who will be a quivering wreck.”

“You have no say in this situation,” Shigaraki said, forcing down the image Dabi’s words had planted in his mind. He trailed a finger down the length of Dabi’s cock. Dabi’s hips jerked up a little, chasing the friction. Every reaction he pulled from Dabi was a victory. One step closer to him begging and pleading. 

“See?” Shigaraki said, circling his finger around the head, smearing precum with his finger. He closed three fingers around Dabi’s dick and squeezed, just a little bit. “I’m in control.” 

“You always have to get your way, don’t you?” Dabi’s voice sounded strained. “Can’t stand not being in charge. Ever since your dear old Sensei got locked away you’ve been overcompensating. Lose control, for once.”

“If I lose control, you die,” Shigaraki said flatly. And it was true. One second of slipped concentration and Dabi would be a literal puddle in his hands.

But he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He let go of Dabi’s dick, lined himself up, then pressed the head of his lube-slick cock against Dabi’s entrance before pushing slowly into him. 

Dabi let out a noise of surprised pleasure, and Shigaraki felt his heart rate skyrocket as Dabi clenched around him, tight and hot. It was better than he imagined, and he couldn’t help the small breath of air that gasped out. He rested his hands on the headboard, pinkies up, then pulled his hips back a few inches before thrusting forward. He did this a few times, back and forth, pushing just the tip inside, trying to keep his own breathing steady, trying to keep the muscles in his hands from tightening. Trying to memorize the look on Dabi’s face.

“Harder! Fuck! Go harder, asshole!”

Shigaraki smiled cruelly and slowed his rhythm, thrusting slower and deeper. Dabi’s legs tightened around Shigaraki’s shoulders. He glared so hard Shigaraki thought he might catch fire, but he didn’t speed up. It took a lot of effort, his own body was demanding that he pound Dabi into the mattress, but seeing Dabi seething with rage and not being able to do anything about it was well worth the amount of restraint it took. 

“Look at you, disgusting slut,” Shigaraki said, sliding his cock deep into Dabi’s hole. He took one of his hands off the headboard and trailed it down Dabi’s face, tracing the pattern of the scars along his jaw. “You’re as broken on the inside as you are on the outside, aren’t you? You were just waiting for someone to come along and tell you how to fill the cracks.”

“Fuck you,” Dabi hissed. Shigaraki ran his hand down Dabi’s chest, then slid four fingers around Dabi’s dick. With every thrust into Dabi, his hand slid against Dabi’s cock, just enough to keep him on edge. 

Dabi tried and failed to hold back a whimper. He threw his head back, exposing his throat. Shigaraki took the opportunity to kiss it, wondering if the skin there would taste the same as his lips. It was salty with sweat. 

“This is what you deserve, Dabi,” he murmured against Dabi’s neck as he thrusted his hips forward. “To be used. To be shown that you’re nothing more than what I allow you to be. You’re nothing more than a weapon. A tool. My tool. This is all you’re good for. This is your purpose.”

Dabi was silent. Shigaraki pulled back and looked at Dabi’s face. He had turned his head to the side, gritting his teeth. Shigaraki let go of Dabi’s dick and grabbed his chin with two fingers, directing his gaze back towards Shigaraki.

“Hey,” he said sharply. “I’m insulting you. Why are you ignoring me?”

Anger burned in Dabi’s eyes, but also something distant and pathetic as he answered. “It’s not an insult if it’s true.”

The anger wasn’t for Shigaraki, he realized, but for himself. Disgust and hatred filled Shigaraki. He stopped thrusting. Dabi let out a frustrated whine. His legs tightened around Shigaraki and he tried to lift his hips, to drive himself further onto Shigaraki’s cock, but Shigaraki pulled out.

“What the fuck?

Dabi groaned. “Damnit, creep, I’m not here to talk. If you’re not gonna fuck me then leave.”

“This is my bedroom,” Shigaraki said automatically. 

Dabi said nothing. Just leaned his head back and turned his gaze toward the ceiling. 

“Dammit, you were supposed to get mad at me, not agree with me,” Shigaraki said. “You’re taking all the fun out of hate-fucking you, you know that, right?”

“See, that’s what I mean by you always needing to get your way,” Dabi said bitterly. “The second someone says or does something you don’t like you throw a fit.”

“I do not.” Shigaraki lined himself back up with Dabi’s ass. “Throw a fit."  He jerked forward, thrusting into Dabi with one hard motion.

Dabi gasped. His fingers clenched in the bed sheets as Shigaraki pushed in as far as he could. The staples on Dabi’s wrists strained as he grasped the sheets. 

Shigaraki was mad. Pissed. Furious. But he couldn’t let that cloud his judgement. Couldn’t let the anger take over, or Dabi would break. 

He fucked into Dabi slowly. Dabi closed his eyes and leaned his head back. His face was forcibly impassive, like he was trying to pretend he wasn’t hurt by Shigaraki’s words. That only pissed Shigaraki off more.

He thought he wanted to break Dabi. He didn’t realize how easy it would be. He didn’t realize how uncomfortable it would make him to see that look in Dabi’s eyes. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Dabi. He didn’t want to see the broken edges. Didn’t want to see himself reflected in Dabi’s eyes when he spoke of being nothing more than a tool. 

He wanted to hate him. Wanted Dabi to hate him back. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he just wanted to have fun watching Dabi come undone. But that look in Dabi’s eyes wasn’t fun, it was sad. Pathetic. He’d wanted to break Dabi, but not like this. 

If insults wouldn’t make Dabi fall apart the right way, then maybe something else would. He continued his slow thrusts, pulling nearly all the way out each time before pressing back in. 

“You feel so good, Dabi. So hot and tight and good."

Dabi’s eyes shot open. Well that got a reaction.  

“What?” His voice was tight, surprised. 

“You heard me.” Shigaraki laid a hand on Dabi’s cheek and looked into his eyes as he pushed in again, falling into the blackness of Dabi’s pupils and the blueness of his irises. “I love the way you feel around my cock,” he said softly, and it wasn’t a lie. 

Dabi’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t look pathetic anymore though, so it was an improvement. Shigaraki could handle an irritated Dabi. He could handle a Dabi that fought back. 

This was taking longer than he’d expected, though. He’d expected an immediate reaction from his words. He needed to step it up. He could feel the pressure building in him, and there was only so long he could edge himself. Dabi needed to come before he did, or he’d never hear the end of it. 

“Your scars are beautiful,” Shigaraki said, saying the first thing that came to his mind, before pressing a kiss to one of the staples along Dabi’s chest, running his tongue along it briefly before moving to the one next to it. Not tugging or biting, just lightly teasing at the scared seams. 

Dabi squirmed under him, whining as the movement shifted Shigaraki’s dick, still pumping in and out of his body, too slow to be anything but frustrating. It wasn’t what Shigaraki had expected, but Dabi panting and needy at the idea that Shigaraki considered him beautiful? It felt nice. 

And it wasn’t entirely a lie. Maybe beautiful wasn’t the right word, but Dabi’s scars were certainly mesmerizing. Captivating. Proof that life could chew a person up, spit them out, and they could still swagger around like they owned the place. 

Dabi reached a hand down toward his crotch, but Shigaraki grabbed it in a four fingered grip before he could touch himself. He’d been briefly distracted, but he refused to relinquish control of the situation. Dabi would come when he wanted him to, no sooner. 

“Fuck you, asshole,” Dabi said, but without any heat behind it. His eyes were glazed over, mouth parted slightly. “You getting off on torturing me or something?” 

“Your lips are so kissable,” Shigaraki said, ignoring the insult. He pressed a slow kiss to Dabi’s mouth before he could say anything else, and pulled away just as Dabi started to kiss back. 

Dabi whimpered a little. His hips jerked up, trying once again to fuck himself further onto Shigaraki’s cock. Shigaraki watched fascination as his dick slid in and out of Dabi’s body, and then right when it looked like Dabi was getting close, he pressed a hand to Dabi’s hipbone, pinning him back against the mattress. 

Dabi’s hands grasped weakly at Shigaraki’s waist, his back, his shoulders, then tangled through his hair, fingers scraping lightly against the back of Shigaraki’s neck, as if he were clinging to the edge of a cliff. 

Just a little further, and he’d fall over the edge. 

“You’re taking me so well, Dabi. I’m impressed.”

Shigaraki slid his hand up and down Dabi’s dick, stroking him excruciatingly slowly, rewarding Dabi for his patience and restraint. Dabi writhed under him. 

“Please,” he said in a hoarse voice. 

“But you look so pretty like this, Dabi.”

“Stop lying," he nearly sobbed. “You hate me.”

“I don’t,” Shigaraki said, surprising himself. “If I really hated you, you’d be dead.”

Dabi’s nails dug into Shigaraki’s skin. “I’m only alive because I’m useful. You said it yourself.”

Shigaraki hummed in agreement. “You are useful. But you’re also...one of us.”

Dabi bit his lip as Shigaraki thrust in again. Shigaraki wrapped four fingers loosely around Dabi’s throat, careful not to press too hard on the scarred skin. Dabi’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Harder," he whispered, and Shigaraki squeezed lightly. 

How easy it would be, to let his fifth finger drop. How quickly he could end him. How quickly they could end each other. 

How breakable they both were. 

Shigaraki picked up the pace, enough to get Dabi squirming again, but not enough to hurt him. Dabi’s skin shone with sweat, his eyes were unfocused with pleasure, and when Shigaraki slid his hand away from Dabi’s neck and placed a palm on his chest he could feel his heart pounding. 

It was incredible how praising Dabi could have such an effect on him. Fascinating, how a few kind words reduced him to a shaking mess. He wanted to do this again. He wanted to be the only one who got to see Dabi like this. The only one to make him feel like this. 

“I thought you wanted to break me,” Dabi grunted as Shigaraki leaned over him, nearly touching foreheads. “This doesn’t feel like breaking.”

“I’ve decided that you’re mine," Shigaraki growled. “And I want to make you feel good. I don’t want to break my favorite toy. I want to take care of you.”

He leaned in and gently nibbled on the seam where burnt and unburnt skin met. Dabi gasped, hips bucking up involuntarily. 

Shigaraki smiled. “You want more? You’re going to have to ask nicely.”

“Please,” Dabi moaned lowly, so quietly Shigaraki nearly missed it.

Shigaraki smirked. “That’s more like it. I’m proud of you, Dabi. I know asking for help doesn’t come easily to you.”

Shigaraki slid his hand up and down Dabi's dick in time with his slow thrusts. Dabi’s breath stuttered.

“Please,” Dabi begged again. 

Shigaraki thrust in, flicked his wrist, said, “you can do it Dabi, come for me,” and Dabi threw his head back as he came, splattering cum across his stomach and chest. Shigaraki pumped his cock a few more times until Dabi was squirming and whining from the overstimulation, until Shigaraki’s hand was sticky and he released Dabi’s’ cock, bringing his fingers to Dabi’s mouth. 

Dabi held his gaze as he licked Shigaraki’s fingers clean, and Shigaraki felt his own hips stutter, trying to go harder, faster, and chase his own release.

The sight of Dabi under him, thoroughly fucked, was intoxicating. And it was enough to finally push Shigaraki over the edge. He came with a groan, resting his forehead on Dabi’s. They were both breathing heavily. Residual pleasure coursed through him. The air felt hot and heavy around him but he didn’t want to let go of Dabi. Not yet. 

Who knew making someone feel good could feel so good? Who knew this victory could be as sweet as any other? He was so used to destroying everything he touched, and was convinced Dabi would not be an exception. He thought all he wanted was to break things. But here, with Dabi, he didn’t take something away. He gave Dabi something. Made him feel good. 

Shigaraki thought he hated Dabi. But maybe it wasn’t hate after all. 

Shigaraki pulled out slowly, then flopped onto the bed next to Dabi, staring at the ceiling. Trying to steady himself. Trying to sort through his feelings. He felt shaky. Like his whole body was vibrating. 

“Told you you’d be a quivering wreck,” Dabi said breathlessly. 

Shigaraki groaned. “God, would you just shut up and let me have this win?”

Dabi laughed, placed a gentle hand on Shigaraki’s head, and ruffled his hair affectionately. “I hate you, too.”