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The hideout’s bar was barely lit. There was just a single bulb flickering above the counter, casting long shadows across the old chipped wood and empty bottles. The place itself smelt like sharp liquor and old smoke, layered with the off-putting stale air of a place that hadn’t been cleaned properly since it was stolen.
Tomura sat alone at the bar, hunched forward with his hoodie bunched around his elbows. His white hair hung limp and uneven around his face. Some strands were curled with dampness from the shower he had taken earlier, mostly to shake off the dread of living another long, pointless day. He cradled a glass of whiskey in one hand, his fingers twitching ever so slightly as he swirled the drink around.
He looked like shit, but that was normal.
The quiet beat of an old jazz station played in the background. It was something Compress had once left on and nobody ever bothered to change. However, Tomura found it tolerable. At least it was better than the regular chaos the rest of the League normally dragged in.
Tonight, he just wanted to sit in peace. He wanted to drink until his brain stopped trying to chew itself alive.
That peace, undoubtedly, lasted all but ten minutes.
Tomura had seriously overestimated the reliability of his members.
The door creaked open. Tomura didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“Wow,” The rasp of Dabi’s voice cut through the silence like smoke curling underneath a door. His voice was amused and far too smug. “Didn’t expect to find you brooding here alone. Is this part of your nightly villain aesthetic? I hope I’m not intruding.” The sly grin on his face said more than words ever could.
Tomura sighed through his nose. “Fuck off.”
Dabi snorted, sliding into the stool beside him anyway. His patched arms were propped casually on the counter. He wore that same black coat, half open, with his messy black hair hanging around his eyes. The burns and staples along his jaw caught the low light in glints of shadows and silver.
“Damn boss. Are you always this charming when someone interrupts your little pity party?” Dabi asked, already reaching for the bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a glass, no invite necessary.
“Only when that someone is a walking fire hazard with zero personality.”
“Ouch. That almost hurt.” Dabi lifted the glass to his lips, take a long sip. “But I’m not exactly sure I can accept burns from someone who looks like they’ve never left their basement.”
Tomura shot him a sideways glare. “I should’ve dusted your ass when I had the chance.”
Dabi flashed that stupidly annoying smirk of his. “You always say that. Yet, here I am. Must be my irresistible charm.”
“Must be the brain damage.”
Dabi laughed, low and dry, not amused so much as entertained by how much he could poke at the bear. They never really got along. That being said, neither of them went out of their way to avoid each other either.
There was something.. static.. between them. A kind of tension that they hadn’t exploded yet, but simmered underneath every insult.
“Alright, alright,” Dabi said, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Let’s play nice, yeah? Just two degenerates sharing a bottle. Nothing more. Sound good, boss?”
Tomura rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. Mostly because he was already a couple drinks deep, and the whiskey had begun to blur the edges of his thoughts into something heavy and loose. He poured himself another glass.
They drank in a silence that wasn’t exactly peaceful, but wasn’t hostile either.
After a while, Dabi leaned back in his stool, stretching slightly. His long legs bumped against Tomura’s, definitely on purpose. Tomura tensed, but didn’t move away.
“You know,” Dabi started, casually, “you’re strangely uptight for a guy who supposedly leads a villain organization. Do you ever relax?”
Tomura grunted. “Drinking with you isn’t exactly my idea of relaxation.”
“You wound me.”
“Good.”
Dabi tilted his head, studying him with a little bit more focus. It felt like he was trying to solve an impossible puzzle. “Hey. Real question.”
Tomura side-eyed him, unimpressed. “What?”
“You ever kissed anyone?”
That stopped him cold in his tracks.
Tomura blinked, brows pulling together. “...What?”
Dabi raised an eyebrow. “Simple question, really. Ever kissed someone? Like, properly.”
Tomura looked away, his jaw tensing. “Why the hell are you asking me that?”
Dabi shrugged. “No idea. You just give off that innocent vibe. The big bad who actually spent more time talking to video games than actual people.”
Tomura muttered. “Says the guy who looks like he’s been sleeping in alleyways since birth."
“So... that’s a no?”
Tomura didn’t respond.
Dabi smirked. It was annoyingly smug, per usual. “Didn’t think so.”
Tomura’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up.”
“I’m just saying,” Dabi said, leaning a little closer now, voice lowering. “You get all worked up about everything, but it’s probably because no one’s ever touched you right.”
The words hit harder than they should have. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was how close Dabi was now, how his voice sounded different when he got serious. Less snark, more challenge.
Tomura shifted in his seat. There was an unknown shift in the air, but it wasn’t unwelcome. “You’re full of shit.”
“Am I now?” Dabi leaned closer still, his breath ghosting against Tomura’s cheek. “I could show you.”
Tomura’s breath hitched. His glass froze halfway to his mouth. “What..?”
“You heard me.” Dabi’s grin grew wider, like a small flame before a fire. “Let me teach you.”
The room seemed to press in closer around them. The jazz faded into a low hum, almost completely forgotten. All Tomura could feel was the heat radiating from the man beside him, and the thunderous sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.
“I–” He scoffed, voice catching. “What kind of creepy ass pick-up line is that?”
Dabi was silent for a little. “Not a line.” His fingers brushed Tomura’s jaw, gentle, but sure. “Just an offer.”
Tomura’s skin prickled under Dabi’s touch, his breath shaking ever so slightly as he turned his head, slow and wary.
“You’re not serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” Dabi murmured softly, his finger slowly trailing up Tomura’s jawline. “Unless, you’re too much of a coward to try.”
That did it.
Tomura’s pride flared up hot. “Fuck you.”
Dabi’s smirk returned. “Maybe later, but for now…”
Then, Dabi leaned in and kissed him.
Tomura’s breath hitched as Dabi’s mouth pressed against his, slow and teasing.
It wasn’t anything aggressive. Not yet. It was the kind of kiss that waited for permission, even as it dared him not to pull away. Dabi didn’t grab him or force anything. He just let it linger , lips brushing gently, giving Tomura the chance to meet it or end it.
For a second, Tomura froze. He was stiff and silent, sitting there with slightly parted lips. He could feel Dabi’s breath against his skin, the faint taste of smoke and whiskey shared between them.
He should have pulled back. He should have told him to fuck off.
Instead, he leaned in.
Barely. Just enough.
The kiss deepened, and that was all Dabi needed.
His hand slid up, fingers curling into the fabric of Tomura’s hoodie. He tugged him closer as their mouths moved together, awkwardly at first, then with more heat. Dabi’s tongue brushed along Tomura’s bottom lip, like he was testing the waters.
Tomura let out a soft, involuntary sound– a half gasp, half whine.
He was pissed at how his body was reacting. He was even more pissed at how good it felt.
Dabi pulled back just enough to speak, lips grazing Tomura’s. “Damn,” he breathed. “You kiss like someone who’s starving.”
Tomura’s eyes snapped open, wide and glossy. “Shut the fuck up.”
His voice cracked, and his fists clenched tight in his lap. He was angry, but he had no right to be, because he hated how right Dabi was. He was starving. Not just for the kiss, but for touch, for attention. For the kind of closeness he never allowed himself to want.
Dabi’s grin was all heat and teeth. “I knew it. You’ve been dying for this.”
Tomura looked like he wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t leave his throat. So Dabi kissed him again, harder his time, hand slipping behind his neck, pulling him in like he belonged there. Like this was always going to happen, and Tomura was just the last one to admit it.
And Tomura let him .
He opened his mouth, just a little, and Dabi took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor the moment. Tomura made a quiet, shaky noise as he kissed back, clumsy but eager. Almost like he was trying to memorize the taste of him.
“Shit,” Dabi breathed against his lips. “You’re really letting me do this?”
“Don’t make it weird,” Tomura muttered, but he didn’t pull away. Mostly because he didn’t want to.
Instead, his hands– those cursed, ever careful hands –lifted slowly, awkwardly, to Dabi’s sides. They hovered just short of contact, like he didn’t trust himself to not ruin the moment by touching too hard. Or worse. Dabi wasn’t having that.
“C’mon,” he said, low and rough, grabbing Tomura’s wrist and guiding it to his chest. “I’m not made of glass. Touch me.”
Tomura’s hand settled against him, tense at first, with a single finger lifted up. After a second, his touch got firmer. His fingers curled into Dabi’s shirt like he needed something to hold onto.
Dabi was slowly losing it.
In one fluid motion, he grabbed Tomura’s hoodie and yanked it off over his head, tossing it aside. His shirt followed quickly, leaving his pale skin exposed to the bar’s dim light. Tomura flinched slightly at the cool air and Dabi’s hungry gaze.
“You’re skinnier than I thought,” Dabi muttered, running a hand down his chest, across the faint lines of scars and bones. “But, still hot. Weird.”
Tomura scoffed, his face flushed. “You talk too much.”
“And you’re hard,” Dabi countered back, grinning as his hand drifted lower, just grazing the waistband on Tomura’s pants. “So, shut up.”
Dabi leaned in and kissed him again. This time filthy, messy, and wet. Tomura’s mouth opened willingly, meeting him halfway with something desperate. Dabi swallowed every sound he made, every soft whimper that escaped when their hips bumped.
Tomura’s body was trembling. Not from fear, but from the strain of not giving in completely.
“Relax your body,” Dabi murmured against his neck, nipping the skin gently. “Stop stressing. I got you.”
Tomura’s breath hitched, and finally, he did.
Dabi’s hand slid past the waistband of Tomura’s pants, his fingers curling around his cock with practiced ease. He raised an eyebrow, amused, and maybe a little impressed. Tomura was longer than he’d expected. Not thicker, no– Dabi still held that particular advantage –but the sheer length had Dabi pausing for a beat, squeezing just a little tighter to test the weight of it in his palm. What Tomura lacked in girth, he more than made up for in reach. He fisted him more firmly and moved his hand, pumping him at a slow, torturous speed.
Tomura gasped, his whole body jolting, hips stuttering into the touch. He buried his face in Dabi’s shoulder to muffle his own noises, his fingers carefully digging into Dabi’s arm like a lifeline.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice raw. “Don’t stop.”
“Still want me to talk less?” Dabi teased, his thumb moving up to slowly circle around his tip. It was brutal and maddening. “If so, I have an idea. That's if, you're up for it.”
Tomura didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He was panting and trembling, rutting up into Dabi’s palm like he’d been waiting his whole life to be touched like this. He didn’t care how pathetic he looked. He didn’t care that his breath was shaky and his moans were embarrassingly high.
He just wanted more.
“Please,” he muttered before he could stop himself.
Dabi froze.
“Say that again.”
Tomura bit his lip, avoiding Dabi’s piercing gaze.
Dabi grabbed his jaw, tilting his head up. “Say it, Tomura.”
“...Please.”
That broke something in both of them.
Dabi leaned forward and stood up, shoving Tomura back against the bar with a low growl. He kissed him like he was trying to devour him whole. He bit his bottom lip, forcing his tongue into his mouth. Tomura didn't object. He took it, which made Dabi bite back a grin. Dabi’s fingers worked their way down Tomura’s chest, slowly, as if they were trying to memorize every inch of him.
He reached the waistband of his pants, and he didn't wait for a go ahead. He yanked Tomura’s pants and boxers down in one rough motion, letting them fall around his ankles. Then, he sank onto his knees without warning.
“Dabi–”
“Shh,” Dabi mumbled, already wrapping his hand back around Tomura's standing length. “Let me teach you everything.”
Then, he took his cock into his mouth. Slow and deep.
Tomura nearly choked on his own moan. His head fell back and his hips jerked forward before he could catch himself. His fingers carefully tangled into Dabi’s messy black hair, trying to anchor himself. Trying not to fall apart too fast.
But it was no use.
He sucked him like he meant it. Like he had been waiting for this moment and wasn't going to let it slip away. Lips tight, tongue teasing, moaning around him like he enjoyed every twitch, every curse, every soft gasp Tomura let slip out.
Dabi’s movements were calculated. He studied Tomura, seeing what would affect him more. Seeing what he could do to draw more of those pretty noises out of him.
It was excruciating, the way he would slowly drag his tongue along Tomura’s length, swirling his tongue around the tip before taking the whole thing back into his mouth. How he would suddenly switch and begin to bob his head up and down, like a desperate animal. His pacing was insane. Slow and deep one second, fast and sloppy the next.
Tomura was a mess in minutes.
He tried to hold out. He really did. But when Dabi looked up at him with those dangerously sharp blue eyes, lips stretched around his cock, spit dripping down his chin, he completely lost it.
“Fuck– Dabi, I’m–”
Tomura gripped Dabi's hair harshly, earning a slight groan from the man. He came with a choked moan, thighs shaking, body curling forward as he came into Dabi’s mouth. Dabi didn’t pull back. He just held him steady, swallowing around him until Tomura slumped back against the bar, sweating and panting.
Dabi stood up slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning.
“Lesson one complete.”
Tomura looked wrecked, his body sweaty, and still trembling slightly. He stared up at Dabi with dazed red eyes and muttered, “You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah,” Dabi said, smirking as he leaned in to kiss Tomura again, letting him taste himself on his tongue.
Dabi pulled away, a cocky grin growing on his face at the sight of Tomura almost completely ruined.
Tomura leaned against the bar like he’d been punched in the chest. His breath was still coming in shallow bursts, not to mention his face was flushed to hell and his lips swollen from too many kisses. He looked fucked out, and he was, but not in the calm, satisfied way.
More like in the dazed, pissed off kind of way.
Dabi leaned against the bar next to him, smug as hell. He dragged a finger down Tomura’s bare spine just to watch him shiver.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice full of cocky amusement.
Tomura turned his head just enough to glare at him. “I can't stand you.”
“And yet, you just came in my mouth. Interesting.”
Tomura groaned and shoved Dabi’s shoulder with his palm. Not hard enough to move him, just enough to get his point across. “Stop making it weird, dumbass.”
Dabi snorted. “Weird? I had your cock down my throat, and I’m making it weird?”
“You never shut the hell up, do you?”
“Not when I’m winning.”
Tomura shot him a glare that would’ve turned him to ash if looks could kill. “Winning what?”
“This,” Dabi said, gesturing vaguely between them. “You. Me. That little whimper you made when I touched you? Yeah, don’t think I didn’t hear that, boss.”
Tomura’s face flushed violently and he looked away. “That was the whiskey.”
Dabi’s grin grew. “Oh, sure, Must’ve been the whiskey that had you begging for it like a virgin on prom night too.”
“Go to hell.”
“Already there, sweetheart.” Dabi smirked. “And, I’m dragging you with me.”
Tomura scowled, pulling his hoodie back on without bothering to button the pants he had just pulled up. “You’re lucky I didn't disintegrate your spine.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t bend you over the bar.”
Tomura choked on absolutely nothing, sputtering as he quickly stood up straight. “You’re so– you’re not funny.”
Dabi stood too, stepping into his space until they were close enough that their chests brushed. “You’re right, I’m not funny.”
He leaned in, breath hot against Tomura’s ear.
“I’m waiting for you to let me fuck you.”
Tomura’s whole body went stiff, but not from fear. From the way Dabi’s words curled low in his gut, heavy and hot. It annoyed him that he wasn’t against the thought of it.
“Quit saying shit like that,” Tomura muttered, but it lacked any sort of threat.
Dabi tilted his head. “Or what?”
Tomura looked up at him, flushed and wild-eyed. Something cracked in his expression. Just for a second. Something vulnerable. Something raw.
“I’ll let you.”
Dabi went still.
Then, slowly, a dangerous smile spread across his face. This one wasn’t smug. It was darker. Hungrier.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he whispered. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I don’t,” Tomura said. “That’s the problem.”
They stood there, staring at each other like they were either about to start a fight, or fuck right there on the sticky bar floor.
Then, Dabi turned, jerking his head toward the door he had entered from. “C’mon.”
Tomura hesitated. “Where?”
“My room. Unless you wanna risk getting walked in on by Twice mid-fuck.”
Tomura wrinkled his nose. “God. Fine.”
He followed him.
The hallway behind the bar was dim and narrow, lined with old doors that led to converted rooms. Dabi’s was at the very end. One of the bigger ones. It was surprisingly clean, though the air still carried the faint scent of burnt wood and cologne.
The door shut behind them with a loud click.
Before Tomura could say anything, Dabi shoved him up against it and kissed him again. This time, it was with intent. It was messy and deep. All tongue and teeth. Tomura moaned into it before he could stop himself, his hands carefully grabbing onto Dabi’s coat like he needed the support to stay upright.
Dabi broke the kiss to bite down on his jaw, then his neck, hard enough to make sure he left marks. “You pretending you didn’t want this all along was fucking adorable, by the way.”
Tomura panted. “Shut your mouth. You're full of it.”
“And now, I’m gonna be full of you.”
Tomura made a choking noise. “What the fuck–”
But Dabi was already sinking to his knees, again , dragging Tomura’s pants down all the way.
“No teasing.” Tomura warned, his voice already breathless.
“No promises.” Dabi mumbled.
But he wasn’t planning on teasing. He was ravenous. He took Tomura’s cock into his mouth again. This time, he took him in fast, no slow buildup. Just hot, dirty suction that made Tomura’s knees buckle instantly.
“Shit– Dabi, fuck–”
Tomura’s voice cracked around every curse and every twitch of his hips. He gripped the back of Dabi’s head, being sure not to use all 5 fingers. He threaded his fingers through his black hair, tugging enough to make Dabi groan.
That sound vibrated, and Tomura almost lost it right there.
He had no defense. No walls left. He was coming undone, face flushed, panting and sweating as Dabi sucked him off with wicked precision. His tongue flicked against Tomura’s sensitive underside with every stroke. It was almost sinful how he hit every spot. It was as if Dabi had already figured him out, and it felt outrageously good. Tomura’s legs shook embarrassingly. His voice cracked again.
“Stop, fuck– if you don’t stop, I’m gonna–”
Dabi stopped abruptly, pulling off him with a filthy pop. He grinned up at him, lips wet. “Good.”
He stood, and before Tomura could catch his breath, he was spun around and shoved backwards onto the bed. Dabi climbed over him, pinning him down with his weight, his hips grinding slowly against Tomura’s through his layers of clothes.
Tomura’s eyes fluttered shut.
“You’re gonna let me fuck you,” Dabi said, breathless now, his voice low and rough. “Aren’t you?”
Tomura hesitated, his chest heaving.
“...Yeah.”
“Say it.”
Tomura swallowed hard. “I want you to fuck me.”
Dabi groaned like the words physically affected him. “God, you’re a sick little freak.”
Tomura smirked weakly. His body was still buzzing, oversensitive under every point of contact. He could feel the slick press of sweat clinging to both their bodies. Yet, something was still burning inside him.
Not from what just happened, but from what he still wanted.
There was an ache deep in his chest, a craving for more. Not just more of Dabi’s hands, or his mouth. Not just for more of Dabi’s addicting groans in the dark. For more power. More control. More of him .
That sharp, bitter little voice in his head, always needing the upper hand and clawing for dominance, snapped awake.
Dabi leaned down again, kissing him slowly, like he wasn’t mere seconds away from completely losing it.
Tomura pulled back.
“No,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.
Dabi blinked, then tilted his head. “No?”
Tomura pushed up onto his elbows, his red eyes narrowed. “I said I wanted you to fuck me. I didn’t say I wanted to lie here while you ruin me like a damn toy.”
Dabi stilled.
Then, slowly, he smirked. “Okay, boss. Show me what you got.”
Tomura shoved him off using a little too much force, but Dabi let him. He let himself get manhandled, let himself get pushed down onto the mattress as if he weighed nothing. He didn’t even hide how much he enjoyed it. His cock strained against his jeans, begging to be noticed and dealt with. His eyes glittered with curiosity.
Tomura hovered over him, his eyes traveling over every inch of Dabi. It was almost like he couldn’t decide what to do first.
“Take off your shirt,” he finally said.
Dabi raised a brow, grinning playfully. “Bossy.”
“Now.”
Dabi chuckled softly, dragging his shirt up and over his head. His scars got caught in the low moonlight peering through the window blinds. Tomura hesitated for half a second, eyes raking over the ruined skin, the burn marks, the metal staples, his breath hitching.
“Don’t stare too hard,” Dabi said lazily. “You’ll fall in love.”
“Maybe I need to teach you how to shut up.”
Tomura kissed him before Dabi could make another quip. It wasn’t graceful. Their teeth clashed at first, and the angle was off, but Tomura didn’t care. It was messy and spiteful, mixed with some nerves, but it carried an unspoken hunger. He was focused. He kissed Dabi like he had something to prove. Like perfection wasn’t the goal, impact was. And even if he got it all wrong, he’d make damn sure Dabi remembered it.
Their lips parted with a breathless hitch. Tomura’s hand began a slow descend as he dragged his fingers down dabi’s chest, tracing the jagged lines of the old scars like he was reading them. Memorizing them. Then, after a brief pause, he slid further down and undid Dabi’s pants.
Dabi watched him with a steady gaze. When Tomura looked up, only for a second, he saw the corners of Dabi’s mouth pull into a small grin. “You done this before?” He asked, his voice low and tinged with amusement.
Tomura didn’t meet his eyes. “No.”
“Okay.” Dabi reached out and caught his wrist gently. “Let me help.”
Tomura gave him a look, one that might’ve insinuated that he wanted to argue. Instead, he gave him a small nod.
“Use your hand. Slow strokes,” Dabi said, watching him carefully. “Learn what I like.”
Tomura nodded again, but this time it was more to himself. He wrapped his fingers around Dabi’s cock, hesitant at first. He adjusted his grip, testing the pressure, when a sudden groan from Dabi startled him out of his thoughts.
“There you go,” Dabi breathed, head tilting back. “Just like that.”
Tomura watched him, his eyes dark with concentration, like he was watching something sacred. His pale fingers moved slowly with an uneven rhythm. He experimented, his thumb gently dragging over the tip, causing Dabi to suck in a sharp breath.
“You’re fucking dangerous when you concentrate,” Dabi said, his lips curling. Dabi was looking at him now, lips parted, with a playful glint in his eyes. “Eyes on me, baby.”
Tomura met his gaze, and something inside him shifted. It was subtle. A flicker of something sharp behind his eyes. Confidence, maybe. Or defiance. Just for a second. Then it vanished, like it had never been there at all.
But that didn’t stop Tomura from saying the words already escaping his lips.
“Roll over.”
Dabi blinked, his eyebrows rising in genuine surprise. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he repeated, firmer this time.
There was a beat of silence. Then, Dabi’s grin widened, wicked and entertained. “Yes, sir.”
He rolled over without protest. Tomura moved behind him, his breath caught somewhere in his throat as his hands ghosted over the curve of Dabi’s spine. He hovered, like he was unsure if he was allowed to touch him like that. Dabi could feel the hesitation. The heat of him. The want.
“You’re gonna need lube,” Dabi said, his voice muffled slightly against the mattress. “Top drawer.”
Tomura reached over to the nightstand, pulling open the drawer. The container of lube sat alone inside, almost like it had been waiting. He stared at it for a second, debating whether or not he should be surprised. This was Dabi, after all. He grabbed it without a word, snapping the drawer shut.
His fingers fumbled with the cap. The lid finally gave way with a click, and the slick sound of lube being squeezed into his palm echoed sharply in the room.
“Two fingers,” Dabi murmured, not looking up. “Don’t overthink it.”
Tomura’s hand was tentative, but obedient. With a sharp inhale, he moved his fingers and slowly pressed one into Dabi’s entrance. The resistance was there, tight and hot around him, and he paused immediately once it slipped inside, uncertain if he was doing it right.
Dabi’s breath hitched. “Breathe.” Dabi said softly. “Go slow. You’re doing just fine.”
Tomura swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “You’re annoyingly calm about this,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow in an attempt to mask his nervousness.
Dabi chuckled, the sound rumbling against the mattress beneath his cheek. His back arched ever so slightly, muscles flexing when he tilted his hips. “Baby, I’ve been waiting for this since the day you told me to choke on glass.”
That pulled a sound out of Tomura that was somewhere between a scoff and a strangled laugh. “You’re impossible,” he mumbled, but the tension in his shoulders eased away. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Dabi’s lower back before carefully sliding in a second finger.
Dabi groaned into the pillow, his back arching in response. The way his body reacted to everything told Tomura that he was doing it right. Encouraged, Tomura let his fingers curl slightly, testing the feel of him. He marveling at how Dabi’s muscles twitched around him with every subtle movement.
Tomura kept his pace slow, terrified of moving too fast. Dabi seemed to be enjoying it, so he wanted to keep it like that.
The air between them was warm and heavy, filled with shallow breaths and the soft sounds of slick skin. Dabi’s head was turned to the side, eyes closed, mouth parted in quiet pleasure. He wasn’t saying much now, just the occasional moan or breathless curse, but Tomura didn’t need the words. His body spoke volumes.
Tomura kept going, carefully scissoring his fingers, watching Dabi’s reactions like a man studying scripture. After a short while, Dabi shifted on the bed.
“Okay,” Dabi rasped. “That’s enough.”
Tomura’s hand froze. “You okay?” He pulled his fingers out.
“Okay?” Dabi rolled back over underneath him, pulling him down into another kiss. “I’m fucking starving,” he whispered against Tomura’s lips.
He flipped them over, being less gentle than he was before. He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, leaving him completely naked.
Tomura didn’t fight it, He just let it happen, fingers still slick, legs falling open beneath Dabi’s weight.
Dabi hummed softly. “You were doing so good,” he mumbled against his skin, kissing down his throat. “So fucking good. I’d let you keep going if I wasn’t this hard.”
Tomura whimpered slightly when Dabi pressed his crotch against his, cock grinding against him between his thighs. Dabi’s hands worked quickly, pulling off the hoodie that still remained on Tomura’s body. He tossed it behind him, not sparing a glance.
He was getting impatient, and it was written all over his face. He grabbed the lube bottle from its corner on the bed and clicked it open with the flick of a finger, squirting a generous amount onto his fingers. His gaze didn’t waver from Tomura, who was still laid out beneath him, vulnerable. Without a word, Dabi pressed a slick finger against Tomura’s entrance and pushed in.
Tomura let out a startled gasp, his back arching slightly off the mattress. The sudden intrusion had caught him off guard. He gripped the sheets, his breath hitching as Dabi moved with deliberate intent. Dabi wasn’t being gentle, but there was a sort of attentiveness in the way he moved his fingers. His eyes watched Tomura, as if taking mental notes on every reaction.
“You’re so tight,” Dabi murmured under his breath, almost to himself.
Another finger followed, pushing into his entrance with a wet sound that made Tomura’s face burn. The pressure deepened, with Dabi curling his fingers expertly. Tomura’s groans echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls. The noises he made, small gasps that converted into whimpers, drove Dabi insane. He bit his lip, holding back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.
“Fuck, you sound perfect,” Dabi whispered, his voice dark.
For nearly a minute, Dabi worked Tomura open. Then, just as abruptly as he started, he pulled out his fingers with a squelching pop. Tomura’s eyes fluttered open at the loss, mostly in confusion, until he felt the hot pressing of Dabi’s cock against his entrance.
Dabi’s eyes finally landed on the man beneath him. He drank him in, admiring him in the process. His flushed pale skin, the way his lips were parted, releasing shaky breaths. Dabi’s expression was unreadable.
“I got you,” Dabi whispered, suddenly softer. “Just breathe.”
Tomura grabbed onto Dabi’s arms, using them as a pillar of support. As Dabi began to push in, achingly slow, he watched for every shift in Tomura’s face. Every twitch, every deep inhale. He wanted to burn the sight into his brain.
Tomura sucked in a sharp breath. “Shit.”
“Too much?” Dabi asked, his voice strained.
“No,” Tomura said, though his voice trembled slightly. “Just… give me a second.”
Dabi stilled his body, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. “Take all the time you need.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, their foreheads nearly touching. Tomura's body adjusted slowly, his legs shifting around Dabi’s waist. The tension gradually melted away from his limbs.
Then–
“Okay,” Tomura whispered.
Dabi started to move.
Slow at first. Measured. Deep thrusts that drew every sound out of Tomura’s mouth. However, patience wasn’t Dabi’s strong suit. His pace increased with each passing second, his hips moving with added force until the bed frame creaked beneath them.
Tomura moaned, his legs locking tighter around Dabi’s waist as he was fucked deeper into the mattress. His head fell back, mouth open in a broken cry. His fingernails scratched along Dabi’s back.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Dabi groaned, burying his face in Tomura’s neck. “So fucking tight around me.”
The sounds Tomura made became desperate. Choked gasps, mumbled curses, and Dabi’s name falling off his lips like a confession. Each thrust drove him more insane, and Dabi could feel the way his body trembled. He watched the control Tomura sought for shatter like glass.
“You wanted this,” he breathed, watching him unravel. “You wanted me to fuck you, right?”
Tomura barely heard the words. He was lost in the pleasure that clouded his brain. That is, until Dabi’s hand slid up and snaked around his throat, gripping it with gentle force.
“Hey,” he growled low into Tomura’s ear. “I asked you a question, yeah? You wanted me to fuck you, right?”
Tomura blinked dazedly, trying to pull himself back together long enough to respond. A slow, messy nod was all he could manage, his breath stuttering underneath Dabi’s hand.
“Yes… fuck, yes. I asked,” he gasped out.
Dabi grinned against his skin, pressing an open-mouthed kiss along his jawline. “Good,” he whispered, his voice full of approval. “Then take it, baby. Take every fucking inch.”
Tomura could only whimper in response, his legs tightening further around Dabi’s waist, trying to keep himself anchored. Every thrust came harder with an unrelenting rhythm that knocked the air out of Tomura’s lungs. His back arched off the mattress, every muscle trembling. His mind was caught somewhere between pain and overwhelming pleasure.
Dabi didn’t let up.
The moment Tomura gave that breathless “ yes ,” it was like something inside him has shattered completely. His hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt with a force that made Tomura cry out, sharp and raw. Dabi groaned deep in his throat, eyes fluttering closed as the heat of Tomura’s body clenched around him.
“Fuck,” he hissed, the word dragged out from his chest. “You feel insane.”
Dabi leaned back slightly, bracing himself on one hand so he could watch. Watch the way Tomura’s jaw went slack with every push in. Watch the wet gleam of tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. Watch the tension ripple through his stomach and the way he clawed at the sheets like he’d drown without something to hold.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Dabi said, and it wasn’t a taunt. Not this time.
Tomura blinked up at him, dazed and glassy-eyed. “Dabi… I can’t. It’s too–”
“You can,” Dabi said quickly, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, then cheek, then temple. “You are. You’re taking me so well, baby.”
Tomura’s nails found Dabi’s shoulders next, dragging red lines across the skin. His entire body rocked with each snap of Dabi’s hips, and it was getting hard to breathe. Everything felt swollen and slick, soaked in heat. His cock throbbed untouched between them, falling against his stomach with each bounce of the mattress.
Dabi reached between them without slowing his pace, fingers wrapping tight around him. Tomura bucked at the contact, a broken moan clawing out of his throat.
“Look at you,” Dabi panted, pumping him in time with his thrusts. “You’re not gonna last, are you? Gonna come all over yourself just from getting fucked. Dirty whore.”
Tomura’s head rolled to the side, an unintelligible sound slipping past his lips. He was close, too close. His body coiled like a spring.
“Dabi, I–” he choked.
“It’s okay,” Dabi whispered, almost tender now. “Come for me.”
It hit like lightning.
Tomura tensed with a sharp cry, his entire body convulsing as he came hard, back arching, cum spilling over Dabi’s hand and his own chest. Dabi groaned roughly. The sight alone sent him spiraling.
“Holy fuck–” he gasped, driving in one last time, deeper than before, before he pulled out, stroking himself until he came all over Tomura’s stomach.
The room was quiet, except for their shared panting. The bed creaked softly beneath them as Dabi collapsed forward, catching himself just before he crushed Tomura under his weight. Their skin was damp with sweat and sex.
Dabi pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You okay?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
Tomura nodded faintly. “Yeah.”
He swallowed, blinking up at Dabi through strands of pale hair. “You?”
Dabi chuckled, low and tired. “Yeah. I’m fucking great.”
Eventually, Dabi rolled to the side, pulling Tomura close with a lazy arm slung over his waist. Neither of them spoke right away. They didn’t need to. Then, Dabi turned his head, eyes half-lidded.
“You alive over there?”
Tomura made a soft grunting noise. “I’m managing.”
Dabi chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow. He leaned over and brushed a damp strand of hair from Tomura’s forehead, his fingers lingering for a second. “Give me a minute,” he murmured, pressing a kiss onto his lips before getting up, pulling a pair of pants on, and leaving the room.
A few minutes later, he returned holding a wet towel and a bottle of water. He sat beside Tomura and gently began cleaning him up, wiping away the mess with uncharacteristically soft hands.
“You didn’t have to…” Tomura started.
“Shut up,” Dabi interrupted. “You let me ruin you. The least I can do is make sure you’re not as sticky as a gas station floor.”
Tomura huffed, turning his face into the pillow to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips.
Once he was done, Dabi tossed the towel onto the nightstand and slid underneath the covers. He pulled Tomura into his chest lazily.”
“You did good,” he murmured into Tomura’s hair. “Better than good.”
Tomura hesitated, then buried his face in Dabi’s neck. “Mhm.”
Dabi didn’t respond right away. Instead, he ran his fingers up and down Tomura’s back in a slow, soothing rhythm.
“You wanna sleep here tonight?” he asked eventually.
Tomura gave a tiny nod against his skin. “If that’s okay.”
Dabi’s hold on him tightened slightly. “It is.”
The morning light was unforgiving.
It slipped through the blinds in sharp golden lines, casting stripes across the rumpled sheets. Tomura groaned softly, shifting under the covers. The ache in his thighs and lower back reminded him, quite thoroughly, of everything that had happened last night.
His eyes cracked open, dry and irritated. He blinked slowly, disoriented, then immediately winced as he rolled onto his side. Holy shit .
His body hurt, but not exactly in a bad way. It wasn’t in the “I’m dying” way. It was more like he had been ruined to the bone and his muscles were filing complaints.
The sheets smelt like sex, and Dabi’s cologne clung faintly to the pillow under Tomura’s head. Heat crept up his neck as the memories hit him in unrelenting waves. His own desperate noises. The way Dabi had looked at him. Touched him. Taken him.
He covered his face with one arm and cursed softly.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “What the hell did I let happen…”
The bed shifted behind him.
Tomura froze.
A warm, calloused hand slid lazily across his waist, followed by the unmistakable weight of a body pressing up against him. A familiar voice broke the silence, raspy, and far too awake.
“Well good morning, sunshine.”
Tomura didn’t turn. “No.”
Dabi chuckled against the back of his neck, the sound vibrating in a way that shouldn’t have caught Tomura’s attention as fast as it did. “What, no ‘good morning, Dabi’? No ‘thanks for rearranging my guts’?”
Tomura groaned. “I regret everything.”
“You’re a horrible liar,” Dabi said, grinning as he kissed the top of Tomura’s ear. “You were begging last night.”
“I was not–”
“You said, and I quote,” Dabi dropped his voice to mock Tomura’s, “I want you to fuck me–” He got cut off by a pillow smashing into his face.
Tomura rolled over finally, red-faced and scowling. “I really should kill you.”
“You tried,” Dabi said, laughing. “You tried really hard. All you managed to do was claw up my back and moan my name like a pledge.”
Tomura sat up, dragging the sheets with him. His eyes shot daggers at the cocky bastard laid beside him.
Dabi propped himself up on one elbow, his hair a mess and his grin sharp. He looked infuriatingly pleased with himself.
“Okay fine,” he said, his tone softening a fraction. “You okay?”
Tomura grunted. “Sore.”
“Yeah, you look like you walked through a battlefield just getting out of bed.” Dabi reached out, dragging a finger down Tomura’s spine. “But you liked it.”
Tomura shot him a blank look.
“I’m just saying,” Dabi went on smugly. Tomura could hear the grin in his voice. “There’s no way I’m keeping this to myself.”
Tomura’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t even try it.”
“Oh, I’m telling everyone ,” Dabi said, falling back dramatically with his arms behind his head. “Toga. Twice. Spinner. Hell, I might even wake up Kurogiri just to tell him the big boss let me rail him into next week.”
Tomura lunged at him, the sheets falling away. Dabi caught his wrists and rolled them effortlessly, pinning Tomura beneath him, all while maintaining that stupid grin.
“Careful,” Dabi murmured, his voice dropping several octaves. “You looked so wrecked already. One wrong move and I’ll get more ideas.”
Tomura’s gaze faltered for just a second under that heated gaze, and Dabi saw it.
“Mhm,” he hummed, leaning down until their noses brushed. “You’re lucky I’m a considerate guy.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Tomura gritted his teeth. “I’ll make you regret this.”
Dabi leaned in and kissed him as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew Tomura would never follow through on that threat, which made his grin stretch wider. He pulled back, whispering against his lips. “You’ll be begging again by tonight.”
Tomura shoved him off with a groan, turning his head away from him.
Dabi stretched, shameless and cocky, as he slid out of bed, still wearing that wicked grin. “I’ll go shower. Unless–” He looked over his shoulder. “ –you wanna stay in bed and scream my name some more?”
“Get the fuck out,” came the annoyed reply from behind him.
Dabi’s laughter echoed down the hallway as he disappeared toward the bathroom, already planning how he was going to bring this up every hour.
Tomura, alone at last, stared up at the ceiling.
He was going to kill him.
Eventually.
After his shower.
Maybe.
Or after round 2.