Work Text:
He knew something smelled rotten.
As soon as Shigaraki pushed open the door, his gut churned with the heavy smell of copper – the smell of Stain, constantly keeping the vicious man company like an invisible halo. Stain’s an avenging angel with cropped wings. Edges that cut deep, cut down to the bone, laying bare what hides beneath the fragile flesh. Fear, sorrow, treachery; there’s nothing Stain’s knives couldn’t purify by chopping away at it.
Shigaraki also knows of Dabi’s fondness towards the ugly creature. The way he basically scrapes at his feet like some kind of lapdog, as if the concept of pride and dignity was as foreign to him as another language. How often has he caught Dabi clinging to those lips, soaking up every word that oozed from Stain’s mouth like day-old liquor, like a starving man in the desert who has stumbled upon a life-saving oasis. Except there’s nothing lively to take from Stain, who’s Death incarnated in the form of long limbs and sharp teeth.
He has never asked Dabi what he found so amazing about the other man, knowing if he opened his mouth the jealousy might crawl past his lips; a demon released from its pit, ready to consume and destroy.
Shigaraki doesn’t want to destroy Dabi; not yet.
Why break his own toy when he could destroy someone else’s instead? The thought has a bitter flavor to it. His eyes land on Stain with Dabi in his lap, back curved like a bow that’s ready to snap.
Not yet, brat.
“What the fuck are you doing?” It takes Shigaraki a moment to realize that it’s his own voice which falls into the space between them. Stain has his broad back turned on him, but when he hears the man’s angry words, he grants Shigaraki a look over his shoulder. Thin lips stretch to reveal gasoline-teeth, a rough tongue slipping past them like some kind of insect.
“Look who’s arrived,” he says, and his voice is gravel beneath Shigaraki’s feet.
In Stain’s lap, Dabi moans and that’s when Shigaraki’s eyes land on the large hands holding the raven-haired man’s hips in a secure grip. Dark claws against purple cobwebs.
“This is my room,” Shigaraki spits, taking a step towards the bed. For a moment his heart stops as he looks at Stain, the man’s eyes seeming completely black in the dull light cast by the PC’s monitor. He blinks, and the illusion disappears as quickly as it had come.
“Yeah, I noticed,” Stain rumbles, his eyes crawling over Shigaraki and past his shoulder, clinging to the teddy bear seated on one of the shelves. His grin turns so wide, Shigaraki’s convinced Stain’s jaw is going to pop out of his skull any moment now. Something twists wildly in his guts, squeezing at his insides with ragged claws; hot shame, burning his veins from within.
Shigaraki watches the shadows move as a pair of lean arms wrap around Stain’s neck, and Dabi pulls himself into sight. He’s barely tall enough to peek over the other man’s shoulder, so it’s only his pale eyes beaming at Shigaraki, taunting him without any words having to spill past those damned stitched lips.
It feels as if his skull was cracked open, his thoughts for anyone to see, when Stain speaks his mind the next moment.
“So, are you going to join in, kiddo?”
He looks at them, looks at the two men seated on his bed, entangled like a Gordian knot.
Shigaraki’s ready to cut them both apart.
He takes a tentative step towards them, as if the ground might part beneath his soles any moment now and swallow him whole, with these terrible men as his witnesses. But it proves steady when he keeps walking to his demise, and it welcomes him with two pairs of opened arms, one more scarred than the other. They’re pulling at his clothes, lifting his shirt over his head as another hand ventures between his thighs, long fingers digging into the flesh, as if testing the existence of Shigaraki’s physical form. He allows the motions, like standing against the surges, the waves gently drowning him beneath.
It’s a blur of curious fingers, and Shigaraki’s there with only half of his mind. He’s too focused on the jealousy occupying his headspace; a crow picking at the carcass of what used to be something like affection for the stitched-up man behind him. Dabi’s rotten in and out, and maybe it had been the obvious signs of destruction that had gained Shigaraki’s attention.
His head lolls to the side when Dabi begins to nibble at the tender skin of his neck, but neither of them lets their gaze drop from Stain. He watches them, wide chest rising and falling with controlled breaths – a predator watching his prey, and waiting for his chance to strike.
“Lay him down,” he growls, and Shigaraki’s about to protest the command when Dabi’s hand snakes between his thighs, squeezing his half-hard cock. His teeth immediately find his bottom lip, but it’s too late; a breathless gasp has already left him, Shigaraki scolding himself for the submissive sound. He knows he’s not in control right now, and maybe he should mind that more than he does, but the possessiveness for his toy is what’s driving him, keeping him bound, like an anchor wrapped around his ankles. He’s not going to give Dabi up that easily.
There are a few things Shigaraki associates with the raven-haired man – like crumpled bed sheets, the clicking of ice inside a glass, murmured endearments in the afterglow of what they do in the dark – but tenderness had never been one of them. It startles him when Dabi pushes him with feather-light hands down on the mattress, melting into the space of his parted knees. His mouth is a mixture of madly soft and the aftermath of a past Shigaraki would never ask about, reminders of a life Dabi left at the doorstep to their hideout. Shigaraki doesn’t care for the man’s innermost – this he tells himself again and again – he only cares for the housing of his decomposing soul.
While Dabi’s the poor fool who can be found standing at the crossroad at midnight, Stain’s the demon who’s been summoned from the pits of hell. He’s tall, broad, all muscles stretching underneath a dark layer of skin; a monster caged in the confinements of its own flesh. There’s only a void where his spirit used to be, and Shigaraki’s staring right at it.
He arches when Dabi’s lips wrap around his nipple, sucking at the sensitive flesh, the pierced part of his tongue dragging across it. Behind Dabi, Stain pulls the remains of his shirt over his head. A breath catches in Shigaraki’s throat, the awe for the man’s trained body replacing his usual abhorrence for a second. Dabi’s lean, all slim hips with the outlines of ribs dancing underneath a pale layer of skin, with stitches and purple cobweb-scars standing in contrast to his softness – Stain, on the other hand, is like an unrelenting force trapped inside an iron cage. The air around him seems to vibrate with barely restrained power, and for a moment, Shigaraki’s worried of what beast might crawl forward from behind the bars if the lock decides to break.
The shadows pool in the curve of Dabi’s naked back as he glides down Shigaraki’s body. Whatever he interrupted between the two men when he entered, they had been well into it. Dabi has never been ashamed of his bare form, and the way he had melted in Stain’s grip was just another reminder of that.
“Prep him,” Stain’s voice sounds through the dim light of the room.
There’s no space for protests, unless Shigaraki wants to disrupt the strange flow these two have going on. When did all of this start? When Stain joined maybe. Or the first time he caught his hand dangerously far up Dabi’s thigh. Or perhaps when Dabi leaned in close to Stain, whispering something past those dark curls while his eyes rested on Shigaraki.
The realization dawns on him that he might just be another moth flying into the promising light, only to be burned alive.
He watches Dabi coat his fingers in a generous amount of oil before his arm dips lower, and then there are slick digits pressing into him. It’s uncomfortable at first, the stretch being foreign to him. Whenever he gave in to the stitched-up bastard it had been Dabi on the receiving end. This is a new arrangement, but one Shigaraki gave in to remarkably easily. He breathes through the dull ache, soft hushes falling from Dabi’s mouth in an attempt to comfort him but ending up only burying the thorn of jealousy deeper in. Would Dabi have done this if it was only the two of them? Or is Stain’s hollow presence the driving force here?
His mind’s fogged with hazardous thoughts of possessiveness—the kind of venom that’s out to destroy instead of simply killing—oozing through his system. If these are the sort of bandages Shigaraki needs to put on if he wants to keep his favorite toy, then Stain can damn well hand them to him.
Dabi leans in to kiss him gently, but Shigaraki’s not here for the rotten man’s tenderness. He sinks his teeth into Dabi’s lip, deep enough to draw blood. The droplets pour into his mouth, iron spreading across his tongue as Dabi moans through the sting. Shigaraki watches Stain over the curve of the raven’s back, delighted with what he finds; greed, the urge to crawl between them and lick up the liquid from Dabi’s lips himself. But he can’t, he can’t risk that, if he doesn’t want to render the young man useless – and judging by Stain’s dark expression, he still has further plans with him.
That’s right, Shigaraki thinks, drunk on his own scorn, this is something you can never have.
“That’s enough,” Stain growls and Dabi pulls his fingers out of the other man. Shigaraki smirks, licking the last remains of crushed rose dye from his own lips. So things are supposed to hurt a bit. Oh well, Stain playing nice would have been too much of an anticlimax anyway.
He keeps his hands balled into tight fists as Dabi grips his hips just mean enough to keep him still. Shigaraki watches him, watches a crease deepen between dark eyebrows as Dabi positions himself between his spread legs. Dabi grips his own cock and pushes in. Shigaraki hisses, the man’s dick stretching him far more than those few fingers, but Dabi doesn’t stop until he’s completely buried inside of the smaller man, hips glued to the back of Shigaraki’s thighs. A shaky breath leaves scarred lips, and Shigaraki fights the urge to reach out and bury his claws inside Dabi’s body. His cock feels so fucking hot inside of him and he wants him to move, to pound into him and make him forget that Stain’s still watching them, climbing onto the bed behind Dabi.
It’s a sick gratification scraping at his insides when Shigaraki watches Stain and sees the barely withheld urge to devour in his eyes. He knows Dabi clings to this abomination’s ideals like a fly caught in honey, but Shigaraki was there first, he was the one to defile what little worth Dabi had left and take it from him with ragged claws and bloody teeth.
It was his now. If Stain wanted it, he had to tear it from between his ribs.
He hisses when Stain grabs a fistful of Dabi’s hair and shoves him forward, deeper into Shigaraki, until he’s sprawled out across the smaller man. Dabi’s breath is hot against his collarbone as he watches Stain; everything about this guy is huge, from the expanse of his shoulders to the width of his elbows, which are almost as thick as Shigaraki’s thighs, down to the cock standing proudly against his abdomen. The smaller man swallows. How is that supposed to fit into anyone?
“I’m going to fuck you both like this,” Stain says, and his voice is a low rumble inside Shigaraki’s bones. He stares at the tall figure, barely recognizing the pained groans escaping Dabi as Stain forces himself inside of him.
“Fuck, oh fuck,” the raven moans, the first words to leave his lips since they began this ridiculous play.
“Atta boy,” Stain murmurs, the hand in Dabi’s hair now gently playing with the strands of black. “Did he tell you how he’s fantasized about this for a long time now? Having both you and me fucking him raw, like some bitch in heat. He wouldn’t shut up about it, whenever his lips weren’t stretched around my cock. It was annoying sometimes, I gotta say. Had to put him in his place a few times.”
Without any forewarning, Stain roughly thrusts forward, the force of it moving Dabi inside of Shigaraki. Both men moan in surprise, and Shigaraki’s knuckles crack as he keeps himself from reaching out and dissolving Stain to nothing but dust right then and there. The man in question doesn’t miss the gesture.
“Hold his arms,” he says, and Dabi reaches out, own limbs already trembling, to pin Shigaraki’s arms over his head. “Don’t want you hurting anyone with those, kiddo.”
Again, those thin lips stretch apart, pulling back to reveal abnormally large teeth. Against his will, Shigaraki pictures them buried in Dabi’s throat, burying themselves deep enough to open up a steady downpour of crimson across pale skin.
The next thrust is far from gentle, but with Dabi wedged between them Shigaraki only feels a fraction of the force. The ache in his rear has subsided, now he just feels incredibly full; full of Dabi, and, in a way, full of Stain. The man’s malice seeps right through the stitched-up body. He’s like a cup, soaking up what evil intentions ooze from Stain’s edges and Shigaraki doesn’t know what might happen if Dabi wasn’t there.
He might destroy Stain – he definitely wants to. Put all five of his digits to the man’s rotten surface and watch him crumble away like a lizard’s carcass in the desert sun, just so he can be the only one to have laid a hand on him.
Ah, so Dabi’s not the only thing he’s possessive of. It’s always been rather hard for Shigaraki to differentiate between aversion and affection, both the kind of guest he made the mistake of inviting over and now being unable to rid himself of.
“A little tight,” Stain says, grinding his hips against Dabi’s, drawing a gasp from the dark-haired man, “guess he’s used to something smaller.”
Heat floods Shigaraki’s cheeks, the blow settling just where Stain wanted it. He plays with the thought of struggling against Dabi’s hands around his wrists, but he knows the other man’s just strong enough to hold him down, and he doesn’t feel like offering his pity to Stain on a silver platter.
Instead, he bites down on his scarred lips at the next thrust, determined to not let another sound of submission seep out of his mouth. Shigaraki takes it quietly, head turned away and to the side, while above him, Dabi moans and gasps, unashamed of his need for the other two men.
He’s fantasized about this, Shigaraki thinks dully, he wants me.
But he also wants Stain.
Dabi’s arms and legs are trembling, trying to hold against the force of Stain’s ongoing thrusts. A fine layer of sweat has collected on his skin, making his grip on Shigaraki’s wrists slippery, having him tightening his fingers around the fragile bones further.
Shigaraki imagines the bruises, which will surely blossom across his skin like purple flowers in the morning. At this thought, a small moan manages to slip past his lips.
“Ah, Tomura,” Dabi whispers, his voice sounding breathless and utterly, wonderfully wrecked. The other man’s eyes flutter open to look at him, to take in the picture of Dabi leaning over him, features opened up as Stain roughly fucks him from behind. “It f-feels-… so good.”
A dark hand snakes around Dabi’s chest, curling up until strong fingers wrap around a scarred throat. Stain tilts his head backwards, forcing Dabi to look at him through coal lashes.
“Is this what you wanted, boy?” he rasps, fingers squeezing the fragile body beneath. Dabi nods, dark strands bouncing with the enthusiastic motion and it earns him a joyless smile, devoid of any affection or forgiveness. Shigaraki watches as a large thumb brushes over Dabi’s lips, pressing into the cut created by the smaller man’s teeth, until the surface breaks yet again and crimson droplets begin to pour forward. Stain’s gaze clings to the liquid as his tongue crawls from behind his teeth.
Shigaraki holds his breath.
The disgusting thing twitches as if debating with itself, but then it settles with licking a long stripe over Dabi’s neck, the young man beneath shuddering at the motion.
“Damn shame,” Stain mumbles with his lips against Dabi’s ear. “You look like you’d taste wonderful.”
The hand drops from his throat, only to find a home on the raven’s hips. Dabi’s a shuddering mess by now, torn between pushing into Shigaraki and back against Stain. Shigaraki watches one of Stain’s hands place itself next to his face on the mattress, bracing himself, before he rolls his hips forward and into Dabi. He repeats the motion, seemingly looking for a new angle. Shigaraki knows he’s found what he’s been looking for when Dabi’s features open up in pleasure and a long moan releases itself from a purple throat. The thrusts turn rough and unforgiving from then on, the sound of skin smacking on skin filling the room as Shigaraki tries to breathe through the feeling of Dabi being shoved into him again and again. His thighs ache from the force of Stain’s thrusts, while above him sweet nothings begin to drip from Dabi’s lips like warm honey. Shigaraki’s there to catch them, remembering the sound of the man’s downfall.
“Fuck,” Dabi pants, the fingers around Shigaraki’s wrist turning painful now, “oh fuck, I’m close.”
“You want to come, boy? You want to come on my cock like some cheap whore?” Stain hisses against the raven’s ear, the corners of his mouth twitching when Dabi mewls in response to the humiliating words. “I want you to come inside this little slut. Fill him up real good.”
“Wait,” Shigaraki gasps, trying to reach up and push against Dabi, but his wrists are still securely held above his head. From behind Dabi’s shoulder, Stain offers him a sneering grin.
“’m sorry, Tomura,” the dark-haired man mumbles, downright melting against Shigaraki’s chest, until his breath ghosts over Shigaraki’s cheek in hot puffs. “But I need-… I need this. I need you.”
Shigaraki hisses, the spaces between his guts already occupied by loathing for the man behind Dabi.
“I don’t care about what you need, shithead,” he spits. For a brief moment, he struggles against the hands around his wrists, albeit without putting his heart behind the motion, “I swear, I’m going to kill you if you so much as – ah, fuck!”
Stain lowers his weight onto them, like a tower breaking down to bury the gaping audience under it. Shigaraki whimpers, as his cock gets trapped between their bellies, Dabi’s hipbones painfully rubbing over his own every time Stain forces the raven back into him. There’s a familiar pressure building up, a million fire ants crawling through his veins and threatening to burn him up inside out. Dabi’s breaking apart right before his eyes, desperate sounds falling into the crook of Shigaraki’s neck; waves breaking against unrelenting rocks, for this is not the place where they can come ashore.
“Tomura –“
He’s a fool for turning his head and opening his mouth so willingly, allowing Dabi shelter which he doesn’t deserve. Shigaraki should leave him out in the cold to die, but instead, he welcomes the quivering lips, melting into his own like they always belonged there. For a second, he plays with the thought of biting down on Dabi’s tongue, fondly pressing against the tip of his own, with the metal ball crowning the middle clicking against Shigaraki’s teeth, a midnight bell announcing the late hour. But he doesn’t – instead, he returns the tender gesture, greedily swallowing every sound that falls from bruised lips. He soaks up Dabi’s misery, and stores it away for a later date.
A choked-off cry falls between them as Stain buries himself deep enough in the young man to press their hips flush together, Dabi being stretched to his limits, and he tips over the edge. Shigaraki bites his tongue as warmth floods through him, the sensation as comforting as it’s alien. Dabi’s movements turn slippery now, and it’s only when he whimpers, begging Stain to stop, that he releases the man beneath him.
“Don’t pass out on me,” Stain grouches, holding the trembling Dabi with a hand wrapped around an arm that’s so much smaller. The dark-haired man’s like a boneless puppet in his grip. Shigaraki watches them, already feeling Dabi’s semen begin to seep out of him. “We’re not done yet, boy. You don’t want to leave your friend hanging, do you? You’re going to suck him off, licking up every single drop he gives you, while I fuck your little heart out. Understood? Hey, you hear me?”
Dabi mewls when a hand wraps around his jaw, forcing him to bend his neck so Stain can look him in the eyes. The young man nods, a motion that seems to require every bit of strength he has left.
It’s a selfish thought – but Shigaraki was always prone to his own desires – as he can’t help but hope that Dabi realizes it wasn’t a shepherd he invited home, but a wolf instead.
And now the beast is ready to devour him.
Shigaraki keeps his eyes trained on this wreckage that’s usually so eager to tease, to mock, to poke at Shigaraki’s weaknesses, trying to lure him out to play; but now Dabi’s nothing more but a tamed bitch, eagerly following Stain’s commands in hopes of pleasing the demon. Shigaraki would pity him, if he wasn’t so close to overflowing with glee.
Dabi’s lips are already puffy when they wrap around his cock, and the cut from earlier must surely sting terribly. Shigaraki watches him, propped up on his elbows, taking in the sight of Dabi laying between his parted legs like he always belonged there, like this is his natural position. The angle must be hell on his neck as Stain pulls his hips up, forcing him onto his knees, pushing his dick back inside. Dabi moans around the cock in his mouth, the vibrations going right through Shigaraki. The smaller man wants to reach out, grab a fistful of those coal-black curls and force himself deeper down this willing throat. He wants Dabi to look at him as he’s being filled to the brim from both sides, nothing more than a pretty little plaything for him, and for Stain.
With sadistic gratification tangling in his ribs like moon vines, Shigaraki hopes that Dabi’s enjoying what he’s brought upon himself.
The raven bobs his head, trying to swallow as much of the cock offered to him as he can. Behind him, Stain wraps both hands around his waist, holding him steady. His fingers span across Dabi’s pale back like massive spiders, taking all of the space that’s offered to them without wanting to give any of it back. Then, he roughly pulls, and Dabi almost cries out.
They truly invited a wild beast into their home, a wolf that never bothered to put on sheep’s clothing, who just strutted right into their middle, covered in blood and guts and something that was never human.
Shigaraki finds himself in awe of Stain’s true form.
His attention is ripped back when Dabi pulls up, feverishly sucking on his cock’s head now, the pierced part of his tongue dragging over the sensitive flesh. Shigaraki hisses and reflexively bucks up into that hot mouth, forcing Dabi to gag when he hits the back of his throat.
“Pretty thing,” Stain growls behind them, thrusting into the smaller man at an unrelenting pace. Shigaraki’s eyes flutter up to the tall figure looming over Dabi like a menacing shadow. He catches the hero killer’s gaze, and for a moment, he’s just like a deer trapped in the headlights. Stain grins and the mania seeps through his every pore. “Such a pretty thing, Tomura.”
Shigaraki hisses, arms giving in under his own weight and he arches his back until his ribs feel like they might burst through the pale skin any second. His orgasm rolls in, crashing down on him in violent waves and he feels himself gush into Dabi’s mouth. The other man splutters, trying to swallow every drop offered to him, just like Stain told him to; some still manages to drip past his lips and onto Shigaraki’s belly, pooling in the dip of his hipbones.
He’s still coming down from his high, every sound deafened as the blood rushes back into his head, when he feels something soft and warm gently lick at his skin. Shigaraki looks down and is confronted with the sight of Dabi eating up every bit of cum that managed to escape his lips, almost lovingly cleaning the man’s pale skin in slow licks. If he hadn’t just come, Shigaraki is sure he’d lose it right then.
“Atta boy,” Stain rewards him from behind, having somewhat slowed his thrusts while Dabi busied himself with cleaning Shigaraki. As soon as the last drop of cum vanished into his mouth, he picked up his pace, pounding away, determined to take what’s been offered to him now that there’s nothing in his way anymore. Dabi whimpers at the harsh treatment, hands curled to tight fists. Shigaraki wishes he’d bury his nails in his thighs instead, but he doesn’t reach out to Dabi, observing the man’s downfall instead.
Dark hair that’s even messier than usual, flushed pale cheeks, bruised lips. A trembling mess with half-lidded eyes and miserable sounds falling from Dabi’s mouth in a steady stream. Shigaraki wants to trap them all in time so he’d never have to miss this picture ever.
Stain reaches his climax with a growl, pressing down on the smaller body while his hips snap forward in rough thrusts, riding out his orgasm with Dabi buried beneath him. Large teeth dance across fine skin, and Shigaraki knows it takes all of Stain’s self-control to not bury them in Dabi’s shoulder right then and there. He watches them silently with the knowledge sinking in like a warm embrace that he’ll always have something which will stay far out of Stain’s reach.
Stain’s hands had been the only thing keeping Dabi upright and as soon as he lets go of the smaller man, Dabi crumples down, head still resting against Shigaraki’s belly. He shakes, every muscle in his body screaming for rest, which they are finally granted at last.
Coyly, as if he might scare away a small bird with a too quick motion, Shigaraki lets three fingers glide through Dabi’s dark strands. They feel surprisingly silky between his tips, yet another softness he didn’t expect to find in this rotten man. His eyes follow Stain as he makes to stand, throwing on his pants but leaving the shirt dangling over his shoulder. His chest is rising and falling with labored breaths, yet nothing’s keeping him here. He’s like a ghost, present without being present, vanishing whenever someone tries to reach out and get a hold of him, dissolving to nothing but imagination between the fingers. From behind his teeth, that damned tongue crawls forward, slightly twitching as thin lips stretch into a final winning grin.
There are no words needed to convey his feelings. Shigaraki glares at him as he turns his broad back on the two men still laying on the bed, closing the door with the faintest click behind himself.
Shigaraki’s the first to speak. “What the hell was that?”
Between his legs, Dabi offers an exhausted grunt in return. “Fuck me if I know. Christ, that guy was rough, I’ll definitely be walking funny tomorrow.”
“You deserved that for letting this bastard in. How about a little warning next time, brat?”
Dabi snorts. “Variety is the spice of life, shithead.”