#makes the enemy suffer more from degradation and panic

[satancopilotsmytardis]

A Pet’s Place

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by @moonlightcrazyphoenix. Dabi intended to burn when he killed his father. No, he did not think he would be a vampire when it happened, but he didn't care. He had his revenge and he thought that was it. But AFO had other plans for him and for Japan as he used his quirk-strengthened vampires to slaughter countless humans with powerful quirks of their own, turning the survivors into feeding fodder for farms, and enslaving werewolves to be pets and guard dogs for his vampires during the day. It's a system that is far worse than the horrors heroes had created, but no matter how much he wants out, Dabi is trapped in it as AFO uses his instincts and leverage he didn't know would even hurt him, to keep Dabi obedient. Tomura, on the other hand, had been trained, raised to become All For One's successor. He was supposed to be the person who destroyed the heroes and destroyed the society that made them. He had only been sixteen when the war started. He hadn't given it much thought past that. But when he turned into a werewolf instead of a vampire and All For One discarded him, allowing him to be bought and sold like any other slave, his goals changed to surviving for as long as he could, that way he would be the one to destroy this world his betrayer had built. It's chance that brings them together, but pain and choice that makes them persist. 

Contents: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Non-Con, Dub-Con, and Consensual Sex, Paranormal AU, Canon Divergent AU, Vampire!Dabi, Werewolf!Tomura, Dark Themes such as Slavery/Trafficking/Genocide/Torture/Cannibalism/Dehumanization are discussed, Distressed Mental Health including Panic Attacks/Co-Dependency/Suicidal Thoughts and Ideation, Unhealthy ideas about Sexual Assault and Sexual Desire, Death of Minor Characters, Collars/Leashes, Rimming, Blood Drinking, Blood Drinking from Genitals, Masturbation, Master/Pet, Dom/Sub, Pet Play (Puppy Play), Bathing/Washing, Aftercare, Dacryphilia, Scent Kink, Size Kink, Breeding Kink, Knotting, Mating Cycle/Rut, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Degradation, Humiliation, Praise Kink, Anal Sex, Spit as Lube, Cum as Lube, Loss of Virginity, Biting, Cock Cage, Humping, Deepthroating, Facefucking, Premature Ejaculation, Sadism, Masochism, Anal Fingering, Cumming In Pants, Dry Orgasm, Cum Swallowing

Word Count: 50,134

Sometimes Tomura wonders what the shape of the world would have been if humans had won the war. He was only four when the supernatural creatures of this world decided to step forward, afraid that the prey that they had been holding onto for so long were growing too powerful with the new quirks that were starting to become more and more prevalent in the world. He was not given a chance to see that world. Because when his quirk awakened, it was a vampire, one who had a powerful quirk of his own, who took him in afterwards. He was human for a while, but his teacher had the doctor experimenting on him, trying to find a way to synthesize human quirks with the gifts of the supernatural, and  after another few years, Tomura's puberty ripped through him and left him a werewolf, but the first of which that had been able to hold onto his quirk in human and lycan forms. And the vampires were the ones winning the war. He knows that it was his teacher's doing. His quirk and preternatural abilities somehow already naturally synthesized in his veins and allowed him to turn more soldiers and keep them using their quirks— even if that burned most of those experiments out more easily than they liked. It was a genocide, and in the end, all that was left were the humans who had no quirks and every other preternatural race that lived underneath the rule of the vampires. His teacher became the most powerful being on the planet, and after suffering the final blow of his long-standing enemy, All Might, before the hero had been defeated, it became imperative to All For One to have a successor who could take up his mantle when he died. 

And a werewolf was no longer someone that he could rely on. 

Tomura doesn't struggle against the heavy chains that bind his wrists together, a metal collar around his neck that connects to them before it flows down to his waist and then down to his ankles. The muzzle over his face has a bit that has been forced into his mouth and keeps him silent as he is brought along the back halls of another extravagant building. This is the third time he has been sold in as many years. He is always being traded around because while he is strong and useful, he is dangerous, and the fact that he'd killed the first owner, and maimed the second, means that the third had been so paranoid about what he might do, that he had just not been able to stand having him around for long. 

Tomura knows he's pushing his luck, knows that his teacher is still around, is probably the only reason that he has survived for as long as he has when 'bad dogs' get put down all the time. But he won't just lay down and accept himself being turned into nothing. He won't let them strip away his will and mind until all that's left are his animal instincts and the desperate desire to find a pack, so strong that it makes him accept his slaver as that. No. He will fight every time someone is stupid enough to give him an opportunity to do so and he won't stop until he runs out of ways to do that. 

This is not as formal of an event as the others that he's been brought to before. There is definitely some kind of big auction being set up well out of his sight, but that is not what he is being brought to. Instead he finds himself being taken to a holding room where a couple of other 'low stock' creatures are being sold. An old man, human from his scent and heartbeat, who looks like a stiff breeze might snap him in half, but a human with a beating heart all the same. Farming humans is difficult, especially since quirks keep slipping through the cracks and having to be culled young. So even an old man who can probably only give a few sips of blood a week is a luxury for the vampire elite. There are a few other wolves here, ones who are not pretty to look at anymore which probably means that they misbehaved so badly or were owned by slavers so cruel that they simply delighted in finding how hard they could push before even their superhuman healing couldn't stand up to it anymore. 

There are ten vampires in the room, and most of them don't interest him. It doesn't matter if any of them choose to buy or if he's taken back to the small cell that he's been in, all that matters is that if they do give him an inch, he will make it hurt. But the vampire with black hair, piercing blue eyes, and swaths of warped purple scars and gleaming staples across his face and spreading down his neck before the suit he wears stops any further assessment, does catch his eye. He doesn't let his ears perk up, doesn't let his tail swish, as he recognizes this vampire. He hasn't aged a day since the final battle, but Tomura wouldn't have expected him to. His hair was white when he was on the battlefield, his quirk blazing the same blue all around him as he fought Endeavor, his father, in the blinding sunlight, making it unclear if it was the light or his quirk that was burning through his skin so completely. And he had won. One of his teacher's experiments that had performed exactly as he'd wanted, taking out the second biggest threat on the side of heroes and making sure that he was dead so that when night came and the rest of the armies swarmed the final bastions of hope, they didn't have anyone left to protect them. He had a feeling that he was too much of an icon of the war to be quietly dispatched like so many of his teacher's other experiments, but he didn't know that he would actually ride that status to the wealth that other vampires have amassed throughout the centuries. 

"What's wrong with this one?" He asks, his voice rough like he smokes, though the only scent that he can pick up on smells more like a campfire than nicotine.

"This wolf is very willful. He's been sent to three different masters and none of them have been able to break him. He killed the first." The seller says, but quickly continues, "Those owners were not able to find a way to appropriately utilize his immense strength and cunning." 

"Who wants a cunning dog?" One of the other vampires sneers as they go to look at some of the other stock. 

The blue-eyed firestarter moves a bit closer to him and despite the blow he knows is going to come, Tomura doesn't lower his head in deference as he comes closer. He holds his gaze as he approaches until the cattle prod presses into the small of his back and the electricity rips across his nerves, so sharp and agonizing that his teeth clench harder on the metal bit in his mouth and he feels a tooth crack as it happens. He can't help slumping in on himself when it stops, his body sagging weakly as it does, his tooth taking another few seconds to start healing when the current has finally finished having its way with his body. 

"How much?" 

"A hundred-thousand yen." Cheap. For a wolf like him? An alpha in his prime who has a quirk, even if the collar around his neck makes it so he can't ever use it? He should be going for a million. But his teacher wanted him buried, he just also was too proud to want him dead. 

"Done. Have him prepared for transport. What's his quirk?" 

"He can decay anything he touches with five fingers." 

"Keep the collar and chains on then." 

"Of course, Mr. Todoroki—-" 

Tomura tenses when there is the whoosh of hot air against his side as the vampire is suddenly right in front of the salesperson, his teeth bared and his eyes glowing blue. 

"Dabi." He snarls with sparks arching off of his tongue. 

The other man blanches and immediately rushes to correct himself, but Dabi doesn't seem to care much, instead pulling out his phone so that he can get the payment in order. The handler sees the wire transfer go through and then Tomura is being tugged away, taken down the hall again to go back to the reinforced vans that he has taken too many trips in.  

///

It's another long drive. Long enough that Tomura just lets himself sleep in the confines of his bonds, no windows in the holding area for him to even tell where he's going even if he'd wanted to. He's woken when the back of the van is opened and sunlight spills in, the vampires in charge of transporting him in their sun-proof hazmat suits to keep themselves from bursting into flame. He is pulled from the back and he tests his bonds, but there is no give and he can't even lift his arms enough, can't bend and straighten fast enough to throw his weight on these creatures so that he can tear them apart. So instead he finds himself being walked into a sizable, modern house that sits on the peak of a mountain. The landscape around him has the smell of old ash, the plant growth here sparse enough that Tomura can see for kilometers all around. The high ground with good visibility all around and miles away from the city with only one dirt road that leads up here. It's the perfect place for someone who can rain down destruction from such a distance as the firestarter. He is brought towards the house, but the guards pause slightly. Normally he is led in through the back, or taken by some household staff, but the only person who greets them is Dabi as he is let out of his own car by his driver. He pulls on a large flat topped black sunhat, using that to protect him from the light, but not enough that his skin doesn't begin to smoke slightly as he gestures for them to follow and he brings him up to the front door. 

He does not invite the other men inside, instead reaching for the leash that is attached around his neck for himself. 

"Would you like us to help you get him—" 

"No. Go away." Dabi snaps. He already has what he needs from them, and he stays at the door, watching as they go back to their vehicles, the smell of smoke around him growing more pungent as he stays where he is, allowing himself to burn again as he waits for them to be alone on the mountain top before he opens the door and pulls Tomura inside. 

He brings him through an open-floor plan on the first level, a kitchen off to the left, behind that a dining room, towards the center a staircase that leads further up alongside a hallway that disappears towards the back of the house, to the right of the entrance a living room with a sunken floor seating area. This might as well be considered a glass house for how many windows are everywhere. Floor to ceiling on most of the outer walls with tinted shades that block the harmful light from attacking Dabi even inside. Tomura isn't sure what to make of that. Most vampires want as little natural light as possible, and before he can fully take in what's around him, he pulls on his chains, and Dabi walks straight towards the staircase. He brings him up those stairs and Tomura is even more confused to find that there is a door at the top of the staircase, this one also with a keypad and lock. Dabi opens the door and there are less windows on this floor, but it also just seems smaller in general. It also... seems like an apartment in it of itself. He doesn't know what to think of that, but he sees another kitchen, another common area, though this upper portion of the house is much less open than the first. 

Dabi tugs him over to a door that has several freshly installed locks on it, if the scent of sawdust is anything to go by, and opens it. It's not a dingy cell like the last place he was made to live, but it is hardly more than a prison cell. The walls are featureless, the lights built flush into the ceiling, no windows, a single vent at the top of the room that is at least putting fresh air inside so that it won't be stifling in here. There are hooks on the walls so that his chains can be attached to them, but they are probably bolted into the very support beams of the house so he won't be able to pull them loose. A toilet and sink are off to one corner of the small room, a showerhead in the wall not far from there with a drain on the small tiled section of the floor. There isn't a bed, but he has been left a futon that is neatly folded up in the corner of the room. For as blank and empty as the room is, the lack of any distinctive features sure to make him go mad, this is a nicer room than some of the others he's been subjected to that didn't give him a place to bathe or relieve himself. 

Dabi pulls him into the room and over to the futon, kicking it open and then ordering, "Sit." 

The fact he has the muzzle on is the only reason he doesn't snarl at the other man if not actually try to go for his throat. As is, his ears pin back and his tail puffs up to show the vampire how little he cares for being treated like an actual dog. 

It shouldn't surprise him, but Dabi shows absolutely no hesitation using his super speed to move, his strength to kick out the back of one of his legs, enough force ripping through his body that the bone shatters and he is giving another grunt as he goes down. Dabi yanks on his leash, directing his descent, and knocking him back so that he lands on the messy futon, his ass hitting the floor roughly and his head clipping the wall. The broken bone hurts less than the cattle prod and as he blinks away the spots in his vision, Dabi is already moving. He unhooks the chains at his ankles, around his waist, wrists, and unclips the chain that attached them to his neck and locks him instead to the wall. Tomura tries to lash out with his claws, but when they get close enough to rake over Dabi's stomach, gutting him the only thing that Tomura wants right now, the vampire doesn't bother with fangs, speed, or strength, his torso instead wreathes itself in flames so hot that the flesh peels away from his fingertips and leaves his head swimming. He has always had a high pain tolerance, but he's barely been given anything to eat or drink in three days, and the rapid healing that his body is having to do as he tries to recover from these blows makes him feel weak and human again. 

He is glad for the muzzle because his pride wouldn't have been able to tolerate it if the whimper that he feels sitting in the back of his throat might have been allowed to escape. Dabi is in his lap he realizes after a second, right before long fingers knot into his hair, yanking his head back. 

Dabi hisses softly, his fangs out as his eyes roam over his neck. Between the quirk collar and the muzzle, there is no flesh exposed for him to bite. So his other hand hooks into the collar of the thin smock that he's been put into and he tears away the fabric. He must be starving, half-feral, or... unsired because he doesn't try to find a better vein or artery, he just dips his head and sinks his teeth into Tomura's chest. His breath catches in the back of his throat, the sensation of having his blood pulled from his veins something that never fails to make him a bit sick to his stomach and feel strangely hollowed out as his body can't heal faster than Dabi can take great, greedy gulps of it as he drinks. 

Tomura hates that he's so weak right now that he doesn't even manage to stay awake before he finishes with his meal. 

///

When he wakes next, it is with his body still crumpled on the messy futon, the lights turning on as soon as he starts to stir. He squints against the sterile white light and doesn't know how he's supposed to stay sane when this is all he's going to have in this room until Dabi is finished with him. Will this be the room he dies in? He tries not to think about that too much, but it's a hard thought to distance himself from when his freshly healed hands, leg, and chest are all still throbbing dully with pain, the lack of food that he's been given making it so hard for him to recover the way that he should. He knows it won't do him any good, but he does still try to reach up to his muzzle and find a way of unclasping it. If he can just get this off, then at least he'll be able to drink some water from the tap. He can't find a mechanism though, and there's no hope of breaking something that was made to bind his kind, so he ends up testing the length of chain that Dabi left attached to the wall. He tugs as hard as he can and for a split second he thinks that it might give way, a little tiny movement, a soft click of it—

And then an alarm buzzes loudly and all of the sudden the vent above head sends a glittering dust and faint haze of purple smoke into the room. There's a split second that he has to be worried, and then the smell of wolfsbane hits his nose and the powdered silver starts to mist over his body, leaving him screaming around his gag again as it burns into his skin and the air around him turns into fire that scorches his lungs on every inhalation. Tomura starts to choke and gag, his vision blurring as the particles in the air burn his eyes and leave blood mixing with the tears that try to wash them away. 

He can't get enough breath, can't think straight as his throat feels like it's starting to foam with the blood that is sputtering out of his damaged lungs, and he lets go of the chain and collapses down to the floor, too weak to keep himself upright anymore. His grip goes slack on the chain and there's a soft click as it goes back into place and then another loud buzz fills the air before a heavy churn of a large fan starts somewhere else. The room suddenly becomes a wind tunnel as the fan sucks the poison out of the air, but Tomura's skin, his eyes, his insides, they're all still burning. 

The fan is only on for a second or two before it seems to think the air is clean enough, but Tomura isn't. He forces himself to crawl over to the shower area cranking on the icy water and letting it rain over him as he turns his eyes up to it and lets it wash away the blood and pain. He stays there until his throat and lungs are able to heal themselves enough that he doesn't feel like he's choking on death anymore, and he is left feeling even weaker than he did before as he discovers that he only barely kept himself from being properly poisoned by the wolfsbane by getting to the water as fast as possible. It wouldn't have worked if he'd had a few more lungfuls of the toxin before he got his wits about him and that would have been a slow and painful way to die as his insides turned to sludge. 

Tomura has strength enough to pull off the ruined shift and push himself up to his feet as he leans heavily against the wall. He finds that there is a little dispenser in the wall and after another minute of just letting the water fall over him, he manages to actually lift his hand to it. The soap that comes out is clear and sharply chemical in its 'scent-free' smell. He doesn't have much strength, but being clean, making sure there's no more silver or wolfsbane over his body, and having this small comfort after weeks of being with slavers again, makes him want to take what he can get.

Tomura uses the soap all over, the harshness of it drying out his hair and skin, but taking away the smell of filth, other people, and pain that has been clinging to him. He's shivering by the time he's done, and no towels or anything else are in the room, so he ends up sitting on the floor to air dry so that he doesn't soak his futon. 

He doesn't know how long he's been up before the door clicks open. His ears pin back. He didn't hear Dabi keying in the code, didn't hear the locks disengage before the actual door started to open. Which means that this room is soundproof. Without being able to hear beyond this, without windows, he won't have any hope of being able to track the passage of time in this room. Fuck. He's going to be out of his mind after a few full moons. 

The smell of food hits his nose first as Dabi toes open the door and steps inside, holding a tray with a few plates on it. He kicks it shut behind him and it locks back into place automatically. 

"Not even a full day and you already found the security system? You aren’t very cautious, are you?" 

He brings the tray over to him, setting it off to the side and Tomura is surprised to find that he's brought him a whole bowl of miso soup, some pickled vegetables, a glass of barley tea, and a very large bowl of gyudon, the cuts of beef raw and bloody, the marbling of them so rich that he wouldn't be surprised if this is a cut of wagyu, even if it's not specifically A5. His stomach, against his dignity, growls and Dabi snorts as he stays kneeling in front of him. Tomura considers lunging for him. He's weak, but there is a very small chance that he might be able to tear his head off before he can turn him to ash, or maybe they'll die together. There's no way for him to get out of this room, to be able to eat anything with the muzzle on, to break his quirk collar. But dying locked away in here, starving to death or pulling the chain and letting himself fall to the poison, both of those fates seem equally as unpleasant. He hasn't even been here a day. It took him nineteen months to find the right time to kill his first master. He can bide his time and find a better opportunity to strike than this. 

So he stays still as Dabi reaches for his muzzle and starts to mess with it. It takes about three minutes for him to undo all of the safeties before he finally feels the metal loosen and then he can get the bit out of his mouth as Dabi pulls the entire cage free from around his head. His mouth is so dry and he doesn't bare his teeth and snarl at the other man, which he thinks is a fairly good show of his restraint as he lets himself focus again. He's starving, thirsty, and weak, yes, but if he wants to get out of here, he is going to need to play a different kind of game. 

"...Thank you." He manages after a moment. He isn't sure if his throat is so rough because of the dehydration, poison, or from disuse, but he sounds awful when he speaks. Dabi listens and then gets up from the floor, eyes carefully not leaving his face as he avoids looking at his naked body. 

"I'll come back for the dishes later. Don't pull on the chain." And then he turns to go without waiting for any other word. That's fine. Dabi bought him for a reason, even if that reason is only that he wants a blood bag to supplement the human rations he's probably getting while the population is in such a crisis, that is something, and Tomura can find a way of bending it to his favor. 

It's a bitter thought that comes to him, not for the first time in the past six years, that perhaps this is all some elaborate plan his teacher had to force him to prove himself in the harshest environments that could be given to him. But as he sips at the tea slowly, trying to get his stomach to accept that before he tries to eat any of the food that has been left for him, he knows this isn’t a test. He was discarded, and now he just has to live long enough to make All For One regret it.  

///

The world that he was born into was absolutely fucked. It was a society that worshiped heroes and those with power to the point that his father was able to buy a wife and experiment with eugenics to try and make the perfect child. The fact that under the surface there was also a constant fight that was happening behind the scenes as some vampires wanted to go public and create some kind of 'unity' with humans, while so many more wanted them subjugated and killed, making sure their prey species couldn't grow too strong for them to hunt anymore, was a different level of fucked. But it wasn't a surprising turn given that vampires had already been subjecting werewolves for centuries, keeping them underfoot as their soldiers and guard dogs during the day when they were at their most vulnerable. Their species had already had their wars and vampires won. It was fucked that after nearly dying to his ruined quirk, Dabi had woken up in a hospital with his body all wrong and a new hunger in him, not just for revenge, but for blood, and with centuries of history that he was suddenly forcibly tied to. He was not happy about that, but the creepy fucks in the hospital gave him blood and promised he would be a soldier against the heroes, and that had been enough to keep him from setting the building on fire. And when AFO, the progenitor, apparently, of all vampires in the country, went toe-to-toe with All Might and got his shit rocked, it was no longer them quietly preparing for war. They went in on all of it and they did so fast. 

Dabi flexes his fingers, trying to shake the heat from his palms as he remembers how his father crumbled into ash beneath them. The vampires won, and Dabi was left in another fucked up world that culled the human population down to only those who didn't have quirks, watched as slavery as an institution was brought back, and couldn't just escape to another country to disappear because as far as All For One was concerned, Dabi was a general. A war hero, and his abandoning the country after their victory would reflect poorly to the moderates who were just biding their time to see how this sudden shift in power would play out. Lots of vampires, he's learned, are very moderate. They live such long lives, why should they worry what is happening at this moment when there will be something new in the next?  Things are ephemeral and changing, they are not. Dabi hates most other vampires. This house, his isolation from them, the assurance that no one will come here and disturb what's his, those things are what keep him sane, what keeps him from just walking out into the sun and letting his body turn to ash. 

"Toya?" He still has to lock up his muscles to keep from shivering as he hears that name that he'd given up before the war. But he's the one who came down into their section of the house. Whether he likes it or not, he invited this conversation to him by simply being here. Vampires, he's also learned, are very bad at letting things go. 

"What's up, Natsuo?" He asks as he finds his brother in the living room. The other two aren't around which must mean they're still in their rooms for the time being. He doesn't want them to worry, but he knows that he put all of them on edge when he told them they would have to stay in their rooms for the full day yesterday so he could air out and clean their space, ensuring the wolf wouldn't realize how many humans he has living here. 

"Did everything go okay yesterday?" He asks, but the question isn't moderate or neutral. He couuld smell the heat of his brother's frustration on his skin even if it wasn't leeching into his tone. 

"I got a good bargain. A wolf." He doesn't like it, but this is the world he lives in now and he couldn't keep doing what he had been before. It just wasn't sustainable. 

Natsuo scowls slightly as he turns his attention back to the TV. None of his siblings ask him about being a vampire. He doesn't want them to. But he knows that they're all wondering why their donations haven't been enough for him. He can't tell them the disgusting way that his hunger is linked to... everything else now. That the bags of blood Natsuo has drawn from them so he could feed leave him squirming alone in his room and threaten to make him waste the meals when he has to confront that it's their blood bringing him that feeling. He isn't going to tell them he's been starving himself on only a few sips a week just to try and avoid that feeling because admitting to it happening at all makes him want to kill himself all over again. He doesn't want those instincts and he was going insane from starving himself for so long. He didn't want to risk tearing out their throats and gorging himself on their blood, or making them thralls who would do anything that he wanted them to. He needed to find another way of getting the blood he needs and a willful, dangerous, gorgeous werewolf is preferable on all fronts than continuing to risk his siblings' lives and his sanity by continuing to sip at their blood. Getting the cell set up took a month and a half, but it was more than worth it after his meal the night before. 

Dabi is glad that he has been so starved for so long, because even after that, he doesn't have enough excess blood in his system for heat to rush to his cheeks. He had gotten carried away last night after he left the wolf unconscious in the room, barely able to stumble out of the cell and to his own room before he had been shedding his clothes, heat itching under his skin as he stroked himself, finding one messy orgasm there before he had managed to get onto his bed and start to pump his fingers inside of his body. He had felt so good by then that he hadn't been sure if he would be able to come down, and by the time he had been finished, he'd been tired enough to sleep without nightmares for the first time since the end of the war. He needed that, needs to be able to sate his appetite and instincts if he wants to be able to function properly again, as if he ever has since he woke from his coma. He can't keep starving himself if he doesn't want to lose his sanity in a way so horrific he doesn't think that he would ever recover. 

"What are you doing?" He asks, if only to try to distract himself. He needs to make sure the wolf is well-fed today before he goes back for another meal. He wants to devour him, but he can't just gorge himself until he's dead, not if he plans on keeping him for as long as he needs him. 

"Nothing." And there's a slight bitterness in his brother's tone. Of course there is. He was going to be a doctor. Fuyumi was a teacher. Shoto thought he would be a hero. And now they are here, trapped as much as the wolf in his cell upstairs because this is the only way that he can keep them safe. They had quirks. They wouldn't just end up as some other vampire's playthings, they would be shattered and drained, slaughtered with their bodies burned to ashes so that they can't spread their genes to anyone else. They know that. They don't hate him for keeping them here, but no matter how necessary, imprisonment will never be a happy circumstance for anyone locked into it. 

"Well I've gotta make bigger portions for my new pet— wolves eat like crazy— do you have an idea of what you want for dinner?" 

Natsuo shrugs, but at least he moves away from the couch and over to the island so that he can help him cook if he wants it and watch in the more likely case that he doesn't. 

They all grew up mostly cooking and eating extremely traditional Japanese faire, but he needs to make sure his meal gets as much protein and iron into his system as possible as soon as possible if he wants to be able to drink from him again, so Dabi opts to make steak for dinner when Natsuo makes no protests. Fondant potatoes, perfectly blanched green beans that are fresher and that are only available to him because of his status as a general. He knows that it's much harder to come by good meals nowadays in circles outside of the vampire elite, despite the fact that it is all wolves working in agriculture so that the entire country doesn't collapse completely. 

This world is so shit now, it is a bitter thought that continues to live in the back of his mind no matter how much he wants to shake it off. He thought, when he had fantasized about what the world might be like after the heroes were gone, that there wouldn't be this system of people being used anymore. It's a sad and disgusting reality that the creatures he helped put into power are even worse about that than what came before. 

Dabi makes the food and brings it upstairs, saying goodbye to his siblings for the night and locking the door to his apartment behind him. If the wolf is doing better than he was this morning, his heartbeat weak and the smell of stress and pain clinging to him, then he might eat again later tonight, when he should have woken instead of adapting his schedule to the one that his siblings follow. That's probably bad for him too, but he can take trying to get his vampirism under control one step at a time. Regular meals first, trying to find the line between what he is and what he needs to be for his siblings can come later. 

The wolf has eaten all of his food from earlier and is curled up on the futon, transformed into his large white-furred fully animal form. If nothing else that makes it easier for Dabi to focus on just taking his dishes and leaving the new ones with the instructions, "Eat up," because this time he's not soaking wet and naked, letting him see the long, thick cock that was hanging between his legs. 

He leaves the room again, going back to his own to find something to occupy his time. He never thought he would be so hungry for anything beyond purpose, but now he is starving for blood, ravenous for pleasure however he can find it after a life of none. And he thinks that if he doesn't choose what lines he's willing to cross now, he will fray apart completely. 

///

Tomura is given rich meals for the next few days, but apart from Dabi coming into the room to feed him, he doesn't linger for long. There is nothing to do in the room. He has his futon, his minimal bathroom, and the chain that is just large enough for him to move around the small room. But there is no entertainment of any kind and he feels his mind already starting to ache from the isolation. Tomura's mind was shattered of that wolf instinct to find a pack a long time ago, his teacher having deliberately kept him in isolation then as well because he wanted to make sure that he wouldn't find ties that might distract him. So with nothing to do in the room, he eats his meals slowly and then, as he sees that the portions are consistently what he actually needs rather than the scraps he was being given by his last owner and the slavers, he also begins to exercise again. His body wears down much more slowly than a human's would in this situation, but the physical activity, if nothing else, will help to fill his time. The luxury of having a bathroom that he has 24/7 access to for the moment also means that he won't have to sit around with sweat clinging to his skin either. Even with the constant bright light and the more frustrating lack of windows, this is one of the better places he's been kept in the past six years, and that just means that he will be far stronger than he was at the start when he finds his opportunity to escape this place. 

He is standing under the spray of the shower, his muscles pleasantly sore from his activity, when the door clicks open and Dabi steps inside. The vampire's eyes flick over his body, but quickly dart away, and Tomura is speaking before he takes note of anything else. 

"A towel would be nice." At the moment he has to choose to sit on the cool concrete until he dries or he has to use the smock that is the only fabric he has to dry off, not wanting to get the futon wet. The shower is so cold that he doesn't worry about humidity damaging it, but he also doesn't think that it's warm enough in this room to actually let it dry in a sufficient amount of time if he does get it wet. He has no modesty to speak of anymore. He's been weighed, prodded, raped, and used in so many ways since he was put into this life. All of it gets put into a part of his mind that stays contained until he lets his quirk rip through his body.  He thinks that by the time he can access his quirk again, he'll be able to hold onto the whole world and have it shatter apart beneath his hands. He won't even have to move as he destroys the entire empire that his teacher built around him.

Dabi turns his attention back to him for a second, and then before he says anything, he turns and leaves through the door again. Tomura hates the reaction in himself, but his tail immediately curls between his legs, his ears flattening against his head. There is a not insignificant fear in him that the vampire left entirely because he was anticipating gassing Tomura again. The poison in the vent won't hurt a vampire, but it could overwhelm his senses and make him more vulnerable as Tomura's instincts lash out as he's overtaken by that agony again. 

He waits for the buzz, but it doesn't seem forthcoming, so he finishes washing the soap from his skin and hair. He is lucky that no one wanted to get close enough to him to cut his hair after the last time someone tried and he'd kicked them so hard their entire ribcage had caved in on itself, but the long locks are dry and brittle as the powerful detergent strips them further of any oils. Small things, petty things, those are easier to linger on. Thinking about those things makes the greater horrors that he has suffered easier to turn away from. Those bigger things, those will rend him apart if he lets them. If holding onto the hope of destroying this empire and being able to find creature comforts in the aftermath, if he survives it, will help him continue to believe that there is a future for him afterall and that some vampire, that his teacher, won't decide he's caused too much trouble and finally kill him, then he will keep that tight in both hands. Be petty to hide that he is being observant, prepared, clever. Let them think that whatever he was before was so entitled, that they might be the ones who will rise to the challenge of breaking him, and then let their overconfidence bring them to a point where he can overcome them. It's worked every time before. Someday it will stick. 

The door opens again and Dabi re-enters the room with a fluffy pale gray towel— a set of them actually, including a washcloth and a hand towel. He sets them on the edge of the sink and then leans against the wall, his arms crossed and not looking at him. He hasn't worn a suit again since he brought Tomura here. Instead he's been wearing... house clothes. He is a general, a war hero, this house is a testament to the life of luxury that has been provided to him for that service. But he also sees easily that Dabi is left without much else to do. He turns off the water once the last of the soap and sweat has been wiped from his skin and then he reaches over for the towels. He starts to dry off, scenting the air to try and find something on the vampire that will tell him what he might have been doing on the other side of this door. He isn't sure what it might be, but there would have to be something. 

What he finds instead is that there is the chalky smell that clings to his skin and clothes of powdered scent blockers. He must have applied them just before he came into this room, not letting them absorb properly into his skin first because he shouldn't smell like anything at all if he'd let them soak in properly. Even then, the fact that Dabi has gone out of the way to disguise his activities on the other side of this door only makes him more suspicious. He doesn't know why he would do that, but he has, and that means that he thinks there's something to hide, whether because there actually is, or because the comments about his past exploits have made the vampire weary enough to consider him dangerous. He doesn't know which is better or worse, he just knows that he'll have to look even harder for the slips that he will need to make use of if he wants to get out of here. 

"Thank you." It takes quieting the snarling, howling beast inside of him to lower himself to thanking the other man for anything. But if his teacher did nothing else, he taught him the art of manipulation more keenly than Tomura would have ever bothered to learn on his own. Of course, at the time, his teacher had been expecting him to be in the position of master manipulator, but he knows now the different methods to employ to try and get his captors on his side. It worked with the third, but one out of three are abysmal odds. He'll shoot for making it fifty-fifty now though as he tries to find something to use against Dabi. "My name is Tomura Shigaraki." He says, that name meaning nothing to anyone beyond his teacher and the doctor. Tomura Shigaraki didn't exist before them, and now they're trying to make certain he doesn't exist anymore after them. 

"I don't care." Dabi says. Tomura looks at him again as he finishes drying off and wraps the towel around his waist. He doesn't know what the vampire's deal is yet, but he's clearly tense, the smell of smoke starting to leech out into the room even as the blockers try their best to smother it. 

"Yes, master." He tries instead, forcing his ears to stay high and attentive instead of pinning back and growling as he forces himself smaller for the fang. 

Dabi tenses, that smell of heat going through the room even more strongly as blue eyes finally snap to him again. "Don't call me that!" 

"My apologies. Is there something that you would like me to call you instead?" 

"No! Stop talking to me." And even though his skin stays the same pallor of death beneath his scars, there is no hiding how flustered he is as his eyes quickly look away again. He had been feral and half-crazed the last time that he had fed on him, but this time, Tomura sees the tension through his entire body. He decides to not push that for now and when Dabi orders, "Sit down," he sets aside the damp towel and then sits on the bed, his legs folded under him like a good servant. He remembers training. It was not something that he'd actually taken to six years ago, but the memories of what vampires would expect of stock like him had been reinforced with a cattle prod against his skin. 

After another second, whatever control Dabi had been trying to hold onto so tightly escapes him and he is right in front of him. His hands are cold against his thighs as his eyes glow, his fangs making him slur his speech like he still isn't used to them filling his mouth. "Let me—" it's not actually a request, and Tomura has to put the way that his skin crawls somewhere else far into the back of his mind to keep himself from snarling and making the short-sighted mistake of trying to tear the vampire's head off his shoulders as he uses his considerable strength to push his body back and force his legs wide. He's been disgraced in so many ways, but this one still puts a snarl in the back of his throat. 

So it's a surprise when Dabi's mouth latches onto the inside of his thigh instead of pulling at his own lounge pants and shoving his cock inside of him. The bite rips pain across his nerves, Dabi clearly not having the finesse of other vampires, clearly not knowing how to make it not hurt or just not caring as his fangs sink deep into his femoral artery and he starts to take deep pulls in time with his heartbeat.  It becomes entirely too much nearly as soon as it happens, Tomura going light-headed as Dabi gulps down his blood in needy waves, and he snarls. It's all an animal sound that he can't fight, a bone-deep instinctive fear that tells him that he is going to die right here because he couldn't keep Dabi's teeth away from his skin. 

It doesn't surprise him through that animal fear that he smells Dabi's body starting to heat in a different way than before. The only vampire he's ever known that could separate their hunger from their desire was his teacher, and for a vampire clearly as unhinged and feral as Dabi is, despite the way that he's been elevated by his work in the war, he knows immediately that Dabi can't make that distinction. He wouldn't be surprised if he has to get off every time he eats just to come down from the high of being filled with blood. He drinks so quickly, so deeply, that Tomura's healing can barely keep up, his vision starting to go dark around the edges and a soft yip leaving his throat even though he would have rather bitten off his own tongue than let that sound out if he had been entirely in his right mind. 

Dabi comes up for air for long enough that his skin closes back over the wound, keeping him from spilling any more blood and seeming to allow Dabi to focus again as he blinks. His eyes are half-lidded, his pupils blown so wide that there is only a thin ring of the glowing blue that he can see, a faint blush of his blood in the other's veins starting to show up along his cheeks. He smells so heavily of his arousal, and Tomura sees the half-hard press of his cock against his pants. He expects him to do something about that but instead Dabi half-stumbles, his limbs moving with the coordination of a human too deep in their cups, as he falls back, landing on his ass as he blinks and seems to try and clear his head through the meal he just stole from Tomura's veins. 

He's shaking. That is something that comes to Tomura a little distantly. But his head is clearing, the pain in his leg ebbing as the rich meals he's been given for the past few days allow him to regenerate what he's lost more easily than he had the first time. He's not in danger of passing out this time, his mind getting more focused as Dabi seems to be barely holding it together as he bites his lower lip, the breaths he doesn't really need sounding rough as he tries to focus. Tomura needs any advantage he can press.

Dabi, for whatever reason, was abandoned by his sire, he's certain of that now. No one taught him to be a vampire when he was first turned and who would dare to try and correct him now? No. He's been left to deal with this on his own and that means that he will be easy to get into a position that Tomura can use to his benefit. He just has to convince him to let his guard down. 

He has always had to be tortured and beaten into lowering himself for his owner's use, but he feels more in control now than he has in years as he crawls on his hands and knees to between Dabi's legs with a soft whine in the back of his throat. It has been so easy for him to ignore the way that vampire venom heats the blood as it flows through his veins because he was always so disgusted by it. But he lets himself acknowledge it now so that the faint, far weaker scent of his own arousal starts to go through the air as he reaches for Dabi's thighs and holds him loosely in place as he leans down to nuzzle at his cock, smelling the heat of his quirk and that familiar dead smell that usually clings to vampires for a moment before he lets his tongue loll out and lick along the growing bulge of his erection. 

He's not expecting to be falling forward, Dabi all the way across the room and fumbling for the door handle before he can do it again. The vampire looks mortified as he tries to open the door, only croaking, "Bad dog—", before he has to flee the room as quickly as possible. Tomura leans back on his futon once the door has closed behind him. 

This isn't a route that he's ever bothered with before, but he thinks there's a very good chance of it working against this vampire who seems so unsure of himself and Tomura can stomach a lot if he thinks it will get him an advantage against his opponent. 

///

Dabi puts off going back to do anything but set Shigaraki's tray just inside his door for the next week. He is hungry, but the fact that the wolf had been so ready to... do that tells Dabi disturbingly too much about what other things Shigaraki's past keepers must have done to him. No wonder he'd tried to kill all three. But for as much as he tries to justify why the femoral artery was the better of all of them available to his fangs, he can't deny that having his head between the other man's legs had been something he's been thinking about shamefully since he saw the other man naked for the first time.

It's a very, very rare thing that Dabi wants to leave the house, but he knows that he can't stand it if he has to spend time locked in his room or down with the remaining vestiges of his family. He just wants to be away for a little while and when he decides that he's actually going to attend one of the soiree that he's been invited to so many times throughout the years. He normally ignores them, not wanting to have to schmooze with other vampires, not when being around them tears his mind in two, a part constantly screaming that the world would be better off if he just learned to turn off the vestiges of humanity inside of him and become as strangely detached to the horrors they commit as they are. But another part wants to catch as many of them up in a blaze that burns so hot and bright that there is no hope of them ever getting out of the building. A beacon to anyone who can see it that they can get out from under this regime the way that he'd thought he was getting them away from heroes when he had tried to martyr himself to kill his father. But he never acts on either because if he disappears, then his siblings will be easy pickings, especially since one of the conditions that he was forced to accept to keep them was that All For One sucked the quirks out of their bodies. 

Humans on their own are already in a dangerous position. Even if they could lie about having quirks, their bones can't, and the x-rays would tell whoever eventually caught up to them that they were absolutely not going to be able to make more humans. So they would be toyed with, tortured, and killed. He has done too much to keep them alive to just let them be killed like that now. No. So he usually just avoids going around other vampires and exposing himself to that temptation. It's better for his sanity and siblings if he doesn't, but he needs out for a while and he finds himself getting dressed in another too-nice suit that is not at all what he likes to wear, and calling for a car to take him to the vampire that is somewhere in AFO's new government. He doesn't care what his position is, just that a party this size will probably have good booze and food he didn't cook. He hopes that they won't have any humans on tap, but at least his restraint around his siblings will keep him from letting himself slip if there are. 

The drive takes the better part of three hours and when he arrives at the mansion he suddenly knows that this is absolutely not the party that he should have decided to go to if all he wanted was to get out of the house. Even if it's depressing to wander the slums that are all that's left on the land that isn't barren outside of Sekoto Peak, it would be better than walking up a grand staircase just to get the the front door where he has to pass off his invitation to the person at the door, even worse when he is announced as he comes into the room. 

"General Toya Todoroki—" 

"It's Dabi," He snarls as he pushes past the other people making their way into the mansion at a more subdued pace as he tries to find somewhere in the crowd to disappear into. 

It takes him a second to realize that there is a lot going on. Enji brought him, Fuyumi, and mom with him to an event once when he was very young. It was some kind of charity ball or something, and he doesn't know what the point of it was., but they'd had to dress up and mingle in an ornate ballroom until they were sat at tables to eat as adults talked for a long time. Vampire parties are, apparently, similar in some aspects, at least in dress and demeanor. But the biggest difference is that they are also strange because there aren't horderves like Dabi would be accustomed to, there are instead wolves, at least one for every table, who are sat at the center of it, the ring-shaped furniture holding them in place with a leash at their collars, so that they can be bled by the servers to keep refilling the cups of whoever want to partake. And the ones not here with the same color collars as the pocket squares that are being worn by the servers, are clearly owned by the other vampires in attendance. And they have no qualms about having their wolves on leashes, many of them naked and crawling on all fours, not in their fully shifted forms, but as their hybrid ones. His face nearly flushes when he sees some people sitting with their wolf's head in their laps, petting them like they're animals instead of people. He sees some of the wolves have... belts or cages around their genitals to bind them tight, but others he sees have... toys inside of them. Men and women with plugs inside of them, some with clamps on their nipples, some with bone-shaped gags in their mouths to keep them from barking as they crawl around. 

He is standing, off to the side, in stunned silence as he sees everything that is happening in this room, as he takes in the smell of death, wolf, blood, and sex that must be happening somewhere even if he can't catch a glimpse of it. This is not what he thought that he was walking into, but he supposes he doesn't know anything about the vampire who invited him to this event, nor does he know how other vampires normally celebrate their birthdays. This wasn't what he wanted though, he realizes dimly, not sure how he could even talk to anyone when this all is far beyond anything he was ever prepared to deal with. He considers leaving immediately as the vampire who is the one the entire party is for, comes out with a human on a golden leash as well, people clapping just because they're so impressed with the status of simply having one. The young man is seventeen, maybe eighteen, dark eyes and dark hair, his expression completely slack from how the vampire holding his leash must have made him a thrall. He was pale, sobbing, frightened when Dabi—

"It is rather gauche, isn't it?" 

The voice comes from beside him, smooth and calm, startling Dabi badly enough that he is able to tear his eyes away from the human and give his attention to the man who spoke. He's taller than him by a fair bit, his skin pale and lightly worn, probably at least in his sixties when he was turned, his eyes dark and smiling, with short well-kept white hair, and dressed in a fine suit. He has no wolf on a leash and the glass he holds is a champagne flute, not one filled with blood. "But I suppose everyone is entitled to celebrating their five-hundredth year how they see fit." 

"It's not for me." Dabi tells the other man roughly, meaning to make his exit. This isn't the kind of fresh air that he wanted. He should have just stayed at the house. 

"Leaving so soon?" The strange man says, something in his tone making Dabi pause against his better judgement. He thinks he's fairly untouchable in his position, but he doesn't want to find out he's wrong and put his siblings in danger by leaving a party early of all things. 

"I think I'll go wish our host a happy birthday and then take my leave. I have a wolf at home that I need to make sure is fed." It's a pathetic excuse, but he would rather say that than any of the other caustic thoughts that have been swirling around his head since he walked into this building.

"I had heard that you'd adopted a pet." The man says, his tone so jovial and light that Dabi forgets to hold his tongue as he snaps, 

"I bought a person." Maybe the anger is from being trapped in this world as he is now, maybe it's because he's having to stare down the evidence of what he's traded for the life that he has. They won't survive if he goes, Dabi reminds himself furiously. He had planned on burning up with his father. But he didn't, and now he's here and his siblings don't have anything else in this world without him. He doesn’t know how get them out of the country. He can't abandon him. He just has to make his peace with the devil's bargain he's struck. 

"Yes," and the man's voice still sounds amused as something about how he looks at him as he smiles keeps him pinned in place. "A very willful werewolf to my understanding. How are you finding your new companion, Mr. Todoroki?" 

And for the first time in a long time, he doesn't go out of the way to correct the form of address, not when there is something tingling in the back of his mind that tells him that this man talking to him is more powerful than any other vampire in this room. "He eats his food, washes up after himself, and bleeds well. I don't want anything else from him." His tone is clipped as he turns his attention back to the rest of the room, hoping that he will somehow be dismissed by the other man and be allowed to escape this uncomfortable conversation. 

"That's a shame," the man says with a soft click of his tongue before he goes on, "You have very little companionship in the form of other preternaturals, don't you? With no sire and no thralls, I had hoped that you would find your new pet to be an appropriate way of finding companionship if you continue to choose to live your life in isolation." 

He means to say he doesn't need anyone else, but before he can, the man continues, 

"Perhaps your work is taking up too much of your time to allow you to train him properly?" He smiles wider and it makes Dabi's skin crawl. "Oh, I know, I suppose your quota could be delayed for the month? That would give you plenty of time to get the other things in your life in order. Your new pet for example. And next month, you could bring him with you to an event like this and show myself and everyone else how well you are acclimating to your station after you have been so cold to the outside world for so long. That seems like a fair trade, does it not?" 

Dabi barely has blood left in him to run cold, but as he finishes speaking, his identity is made completely transparent. He doesn't know why he didn't consider that the potato of a man that was All For One three years ago, might have been able to heal to how he must have looked before the war, before Dabi ever interacted with him. But there is only one person in the world who knows about his 'quota' and he is not about to lose what he has managed to get through the blood of one hundred and twenty people. "A month to train my pet would be appreciated." His spine is straight, his tone still clipped and sounding like the words are coming from far away, but he doesn't know how else to respond. "Train him to do what, exactly?" He does not want to have to take him out with him like an attack dog, isn't certain why everyone in this building seems to be so alright with the perverse way their desires and other uses for their wolves are being put on display, but he has already given everything that he has to keep his siblings alive. He isn't about to let his disgust over what he might have to do to the wolf deter him from keeping them safe. He'll make sure they're alright for the rest of their lives, even if he has to hunt down every human refugee in the country to make it happen.

"Oh, well, whatever you like really. Make him prepared to be a companion here, in whatever capacity that you need companionship in. Find a way of putting him to use for those and display that at... ah, yes, there will be a celebration in two months for the anniversary of when Japan gained its global independence after the end of the war. You haven’t attended since the first, but it is far more expansive and lavish than this, and it would be wonderful for one of the heroes of the war to be seen there having fully acclimated to the culture and with a wolf who exemplifies the goals and values of the country." 

Dabi swallows any protests, any vitriol, any shame that tries to surge hot up along his spine as he thinks of the debauchery that is already on display here and the fact that he'll be expected to be participating in it. Let alone with a werewolf who killed or maimed his previous owners. "I would be happy to make an appearance with my new pet." He forces himself to continue to sound neutral as he adds, "However, he is a special case and one with a history of violence. As this is my first time keeping a wolf, I would appreciate any guidance on resources to help assure that I am keeping him under control, and a month may still be too truncated of a timeline for me to make him presentable when so much of my time is spent out of the house collecting my quota. Perhaps it could be delayed until the celebration?" 

All For One stays smiling at him, his eyes flat and dead as a shark’s as he gives a thoughtful hum. "Well, I suppose that would be fair. However, if your dog ends up causing a commotion, you will only need to turn in two humans the next month. I'll be collecting the third from your abode personally." 

Dabi doesn't have anything in his stomach right now, but he still feels how sick he becomes in a matter of seconds as his tongue glues itself to the top of his mouth and all he manages to do is give a weak nod. 

"Very well then. I wish you luck, and I'm sure you can find a wide variety of resources online to help you keep wolves." He looks back out on the display of them that have been brought or provided for this party, and Dabi doesn't think he's mistaken when he sees a flicker of disdain that goes through his eyes as he does so. "I only ever found them useful as soldiers, but I am far too old for such companionship." His laugh is too pleasant, disarming even. It somehow makes him even more aware of the danger he is in. "Ah, it seems I've been spotted. It was lovely touching base with you again, Mr. Todoroki." 

AFO gives him a slight incline of his head and then he begins to walk around the perimeter of the room, making the person who is walking towards him have to either choose to chase him down or abandon their pursuit. Dabi sees a server who has a tray full of champagne flutes and waves them down. Alcohol can't get a vampire nearly as drunk as it can when it's sipped out of a victim's veins, but Dabi is desperate for something to take the edge off, so he brings the server to a pause, takes four of the glasses between his fingers and tips them down his throat one after another before he forces himself to take a breath that he doesn't need and start to walk towards the nearest person with a wolf of their own. He doesn't have room to be squeamish, not when so much is riding on him making an example of Shigaraki now.

///

Dabi straightens his spine as he holds the bowl of steak strips in one hand and then opens the door. It's a little after three in the morning, not that the immediate bright light of the room he's keeping Shigaraki in would allow the wolf to tell that. The lack of windows and constant light are made to throw off a wolf's sense of time. It keeps them from turning on the full moon and will make him weaker and more manageable over time, especially as his body wears down from not being able to get solid sleep from the constant light. He knew that much, at least, when he designed this place, but he is going to be better about more of this. Werewolves are as much an animal as they are person, and for as much as people don't like to believe that they too are animals, they can just as easily be trained through operant conditioning as a dog. He just has to train him consistently so that he does as he's told and hope the bastard doesn't try to gut him or tear out a chunk of his flesh with his sharp teeth. So long as he never is able to tear his head off, there are no other ways that Shigaraki can endanger his life while in this room. It makes it easier for Dabi to train him here, but it doesn't put him any more at ease. He got as much information on his previous owners as he could. The first was a vampire who had been part of All For One's inner circle. He was a sadist who had been a cannibalistic murderer well before he was turned and he delighted in inviting people to parties and butchering his centerpieces slowly, making sure they survived and suffered the entire time. He'd done that to Shigaraki at least half a dozen times before the wolf had managed to get the bone that he had stripped the flesh of, the bone from the hand that had been chopped off earlier in the meal and that was only halfway through regenerating. Dabi had seen the winding rope of maroon scars along Shigaraki's arm and had wondered where they had come from, but knowing the answer only made him sick to his stomach. He'd taken the bone and used it to pick the lock on his other cuff as his owner prepared his guests for the next course. Shigaraki grabbed one of the knives as soon as his hand was free and had sliced his head from his shoulders before he turned back around and they needed eight vampires to pin him back down. 

The second owner was a different kind of sadist. A vampire who adored the sexual thrill of owning everyone in his space and who, apparently, had an entire building full of sired, thralls, and wolves to entertain him. Dabi doesn't need details of what happened to Shigaraki there, he just knows that it had been happening again when he managed to use some piece of jewelry that the man had adorned him with to short out his quirk collar. He hadn't managed to get his deadly hands around that one's neck, but he had been able to grab onto one of his legs and turn that to dust before he was contained again. 

His third owner had wanted him for manual labor, but the arrangement only lasted four months. After everything else that he had heard about Shigaraki, he had been too scared that the wolf was planning something. He didn't want to meet the same fate as the previous two and had sold him back at a loss just to get him out of his hair. Dabi hadn't cared at the time when he'd made his purchase because he needed a blood bag and nothing more. Now he's regretting purchasing such a difficult charge. 

He steps into the room and finds that Shigaraki was curled up on the futon in his wolf form, one red eye cracked open to look at him. 

"Transform." He demands. He would much prefer to train the wolf like this, but he'd spoken to other owners about the anniversary parties of the past. He knows that the political celebration only lasts an hour at most before the feasting on blood, flesh, and whatever else they can get spills out through the night. As humiliating as it is to even consider that, he doesn’t know if he will be able to leave after the speeches. No. This is a way for AFO to remind him exactly where he belongs in this world too, and he is not about to fall short and make the suffering of the past three and a half years mean nothing. 

Shigaraki doesn't change and Dabi picks up the device on the tray and pushes the button. It's a sharp sound to his ears, but the reaction that Shigaraki has to it is immediate, a yip leaving his throat before he's scrambling up on all fours and the fur is receding along his body, the bones snapping back into the shape of a human in a matter of seconds. His ears stay pinned down and he doesn't look up at him as Dabi tells him. 

"It's time to start your training. Sit." 

He's more surprised than anything else that Shigaraki folds his legs underneath himself like he did the first time, his hands fisted, knuckles white, against his thick, muscular thighs, but not looking up at him or saying anything. 

Dabi hesitantly takes a few steps closer and takes a dripping cut of steak out of the bowl. "Open, and if you bite me, I'll have your teeth filed down." Pulled teeth, he's learned, heal, filed ones won't. And a wolf without fangs is nearly as hopeless as a vampire without them. 

Shigaraki looks up, not to his face, but at least to his hand so that he can take the steak gingerly from his fingers, eating it out of his hand carefully before he waits for his next order. Dabi watches him another moment before he reaches for the housing on the wall that keeps the wolf chained in place. He has to hit a release and then enter a code on the keypad, feeling Shigaraki's sharp eyes on him the entire time as he does so, but then the housing clicks and whirrs as the mechanics in the wall bring it so that Dabi can unseat it from the housing, a button on the back starting to glow bright red as he does so and holds the heavy chain in his hand like it is a leash. 

"One wrong move and I won't use the clicker, I'll use this." He warns. Shigaraki does actually look at him then and Dabi pulls on the leash. "Heel." 

He doesn't speak, doesn't pull at the chain, doesn't seem to feel even the slightest flush of humiliation as he shifts so that he is on all fours at Dabi's side. This room is hardly big enough for them to walk around in, more of a closet than anything else, but he still makes him go back and forth along the length of it before he stops and offers him another scrap of meat as his treat. Shigaraki eats it and Dabi's skin crawls as he feels the whisper of sharp teeth against the pads of his fingers. 

Slow consistent training. The use of force has to be carefully applied if he wants Shigaraki to start to think of him as his alpha instead of his captor. If he can get Shigaraki to pack bond with him then he can make it so that he will protect him, his mind rebelling at the idea of any violence against him. If he can get Shigaraki to be safe enough to pack bond with his siblings, then he'll be certain that they're protected even when he does have to leave to hunt for humans. He forces himself to take a breath and then sets down the bowl of meat on the floor before walking Shigaraki over to the shower.

"Stay." He demands as he feels his humiliation saturating his body. He doesn't know how other vampires are able to do things like this, but the way that his whole body feels like it wants to compress into nothing to escape being in this situation is agony. Shigaraki doesn't seem perturbed though. His heartbeat is slow and steady in his chest, his eyes watching him as he reaches with his free hand to turn on the water. He stands outside of the spray, but gets Shigaraki to let the cold water cascade over his body for a moment before he croaks, 

"Turn around." The wolf does so and Dabi finds the wash cloth that he'd left hanging on the knob of the sink, and he gets it wet and sudsy before he kneels down, doing his best to keep a firm grip on the leash so that he doesn't have to worry that the other will lunge for him before he can defend himself. He uses the soapy cloth along the wolf's back, his hand moving along the dips and curves of muscle, over the rough patches of so many scars that litter his body, trying his best to not be so curt with the actions that Shigaraki's instincts won't associate this with being cared for, but having to fight his own embarrassment the whole time as he does so. When he makes the other turn around, he does his best to not look at him below the waist as he cleans him there too before he lets the other rinse off. He doesn't think he can do his hair with one hand and he doesn't trust the wolf to stay where he is if he were to clip the device to his belt. 

Dabi dries him off and then walks him back over to his futon, hooking the leash back into the wall and letting it rearm itself and then moving the bowl right in front of Shigaraki. The wolf doesn't look up at him, keeping his eyes no higher than Dabi's hands throughout the entire process. He hates that. Hates the way that Shigaraki is docile because this is docility in the same way a loaded beartrap is. 

"Look at me." 

For the first time since he woke him, Shigaraki hesitates, but only for a split second before his eyes meet his. He doesn't manage to hide the hatred burning in them behind his mask of neutrality before Dabi sees it. It's been a long time since he's felt helpless, felt frustrated to nearly the point of tears. 

"You're going to be a good dog for me," he demands, pushing the words out so that his seams stop aching with the tears he is absolutely not going to shed in this room. "In two months, we're going to a public event in front of some of the most powerful people in the country, and if you misbehave, I will make certain that there is no 'next' owner," he hasn't ever used his strength to intimidate like this before, usually aiming for quiet, quick takedowns so he can just get his work over with. But he remembers how he felt as a child when he reaches out and tangles his hand in Shigaraki's long hair, pulling him up by the roots to make him look him in the eyes and to force that false indifference to flicker. "No matter what you try, I will take you out with me. There will be no playing this game and hoping you get shuffled off to another member of the court. I am the symbol of the future in this world whether I like it or not, and if you leave a negative impression of that, I'll put you down like you really aren't anything but a mangy mutt. Do I make myself clear?" 

Dabi had to get good at learning how to pretend from a young age. Because after he went wrong, the energy, the desperation, that he had as he tried to make himself something even in the wake of everything else, had been extremely off-putting to other people. They were scared of his intensity, his own mother, his classmates, his teachers, and when there had been threats to send him to a child psychologist, he had known that would spell the end of his training if they discovered it. So he did his best to learn how to appear normal to everyone outside of the house. He had to hone those skills again in the hospital as he was trained to be a soldier because a soldier needs to follow orders and he needed to be the one that would get the order to kill Enji Todoroki. 

He reaches for those skills now and he hopes that they don't fail him as Shigaraki's red eyes take him in for another long moment before he, instead of speaking, lets out a soft bark. It doesn't sound defiant, so he lets go of his hair and tells him, "Sit," again. He makes him sit like that with the bowl of food in front of him until his stomach growls so softly that a human wouldn't have a hope of picking up on it. And then he still makes him wait another fifteen minutes before he says, "Good dog. Eat up." 

Shigaraki doesn't reach for the bowl with his hands, dipping his head down instead the way he was probably expected to by past owners. It makes Dabi sick to his stomach, but he knows that this is what will be expected of them both. He can't stay to watch him though and he turns and starts towards the door. 

"You can hate me, hate your life, act like a person when no one can see, I don't care. Just— Just behave for that event and neither of us will have to do this again." He has to leave. Has to hope that he doesn't get sick as he thinks of how completely he's owned as well by the monster that made him. 

///

Shigaraki has been behaving himself whenever Dabi comes to train him. He waits for him to come and give him his shower, and Dabi doesn't know if that's because he knows how Dabi is trying to manipulate his pack instincts or if it's because he is actually giving into them. He just knows that it's not making him feel any better about subjecting him to these treatments. He also is feeling worse and worse because it's been over a week now since he's fed on the wolf and he's starving. But he knows what he'll need to do, the next part of Shigaraki's training that he'll have to start because it may be expected of him at the event. He just doesn't want to do that, is just humiliated that after the life he's already been forced to live, he is going to end up, once again, being unable to choose something for himself. Sure he was going insane from the arousal that was constantly flowing beneath his skin when he was drinking his bagged blood, but at least he wasn't being forced to act on that arousal. He could hide in his room and let it tear his mind apart and make him sick with guilt in private. He doesn't want to be subject to it again not when he'll have to share that experience publically. How? How are other vampires not completely humiliated to let their need show like that in front of so many other people? How can they feel good about forcing their pets to do something like that? He isn't sure, he just knows that he's been putting off eating for so long because he's been dreading the eventual escalation he knew he would have to make. But he does have to make it. 

Dabi is shaky and nervous when he brings the bowl of meat into the room. He is starting to lose creative ways of preparing the dishes, but everything he read said that a diet of a lot of red meat was the best way to keep werewolves well-fed. He opens the door and Shigaraki, as soon as he hears it happening, is sitting up, kneeling the way he always has, and keeping his head down. He never bothers to put on the smock he arrived in, but from what Dabi can tell, most wolves are not given clothes unless the specific jobs that their owners need them to perform ask them to. So maybe Shigaraki is more used to being naked than clothed at this point and doesn't care about protecting his modesty. It only makes Dabi's entire life harder as he's forced to see him like this each day, the knowledge of what his body feels like under his palms, the way his blood tastes, how he had tried to lick along his cock even before Dabi had even thought to ask for that— it all has been hounding him outside of this room as the desperation that he has been feeling around his feeding for years only gets worse and worse. 

"Open your legs." He demands, hoping that the wolf can't hear the nervousness in his voice and being grateful that he no longer has a heartbeat to betray him. 

Shigaraki shifts into the position he'd had him in last time he fed and watches him, waiting, as Dabi sets the wolf's food to the side. Alphas are supposed to eat before the other members of the pack, except when it comes to feeding their pregnant mates. This is just another level of training, he tells himself frantically as he makes himself climb down onto the futon with him. 

It's easy to forget that all when he has his nose against Shigaraki's skin and he's surrounded in the heavy, electric spice of his blood for a second before his teeth are sinking in and he's taking deep, frantic pulls from his skin. He swallows in time with each heartbeat that pumps more of the heady, rich fluid into his mouth, and knows that the diet he's been giving him has been working because he tastes fuller than he did the first few times he fed. Dabi didn't know that blood could taste so good and he's had the luxury of mostly human blood since he turned. Maybe it's because he doesn't have to feel utterly disgusted with himself when his body starts to heat from taking in his meal this time. Maybe it's because this blood is coming straight from the vein when he's only ever trusted himself with bagged before. He doesn't know, he just knows that it is so easy for him to start to feel his head going hot and his body start to turn restlessly towards the thoughts of other pleasures he has craved for so long without allowing himself to have.

He stops when his stomach is full for the first time in weeks and when he pulls back, Shigaraki is a little paler than normal, panting softly as well, quiet animal whines in the back of his throat as he tries to keep focus on him. 

Dabi tries not to let his voice shake when he demands, "Come here." But it's very hard to hide the way that his body is so stiff and awkward as he sits back, hesitantly spreading his legs. He wore sweats again today, and the tent that his aching cock has made in them is already more than apparent as he does so, his nerves doing nothing to temper his arousal as he puts it on display. He feels shaky as Shigaraki's eyes look down at him, then flick back up to meet his. He doesn't know if he is considering mutilating him or wondering what changed, but Dabi knows he's humiliatingly red as he pulls down his pants and undergarments enough to be on display to the other man. He reaches for the chain, trying to get the tension just right so that it won't set off the security measures accidentally, but tight enough that he knows that it will be easily tripped if Shigaraki decides to misbehave. 

"Service your master." The words couldn't sound any more forced or awkward if he'd tried, and it's only the heady rush of his meal in his veins that keeps him so aroused through it. Shigaraki doesn't protest, doesn't pull at his chains, he just shifts, his hands reaching to wrap around the backs of Dabi's thighs. His skin is so cool against his. That's a rare thing for vampires, but other vampires don't have a fire quirk just barely contained beneath their skin. He lets out an undignified squeak as Shigaraki makes him roll his weight up higher onto his back, causing him to fall back, only part of his torso even still on the futon, as he feels panic swell through him, terrified that he's about to be torn into pieces and starting to pull at the chain. 

Shigaraki's breath is against him the next second though, against his hole instead of his straining cock, and Dabi's mind goes blank as he feels it lave wetly over his body. He lets out a keen of shock, having only ever put his fingers there, and they are nowhere near as warm and wet as the wolf's tongue as he starts to lap at his skin, making the nerves there tingle and light up, his arousal pulsing through his veins. He lets out a suckerpunched sound as the wolf keeps moving his mouth, an obscene kiss against such an intimate place of his body that feels like nothing that he's ever experienced before. It has him seeing stars as his tongue doesn't just circle him, it starts to prod inside, the dexterous tip of it spreading his walls open and bringing that moisture and softness inside of him. It's so much more giving than his fingers are, and he doesn't know if it's just because he's always had a hard time reaching himself there, or if it's because he feels so good like this already because it's someone else touching him this time. Dabi's thighs start to tremble, a tightness starting to build in his chest and along the seams under his eyes and he doesn't understand that. He's the one forcing Shigaraki to do this. He's the one who should feel in control, superior, maybe even indifferent as he uses his pet to service him like this. But he doesn't feel any of those things. Instead his chest is agonizingly tight as he starts to shake under the wolf, his panting breaths turning into thin, whining moans as Shigaraki tilts his head and pushes his tongue in deeper, his hands tightening around his thighs to keep him in place as he pushes his tongue against his prostate and sends Dabi's back arching up off of the floor. 

He fumbles, his hand slipping away from the chain and moving instead to tangle in Shigaraki's hair, pulling to try and get him impossibly closer in his desperation and his nerves go so hot. Is this what he could have been having sooner if he had dared to let anyone else touch him? Is this something he should even be allowed to enjoy at all after all of the fresh suffering he's put into this world that's no better than the way that heroes tried to create a stranglehold on this society? No. He is only supposed to exist to keep his siblings alive. This is far beyond what he should be allowed in the meantime, especially since he knows it's not something that the werewolf would have done if he could have made any other choice instead. 

But it feels so good. It makes his whole body light up and not feel so cold, dead, and awful to inhabit for the first time since he was five years old. He might have not been a vampire then, but he was already a corpse walking around, unshackled to his father's legacy. Dabi can't help moaning, can't stop his hips from rocking into the press of the werewolf's tongue as it licks inside of him. And instead of trying to stop him, Shigaraki's hand shifts so that he can lift him higher, letting him press his feet against the floor on either side of his shoulders so that he has better leverage to rock himself into the movements of his tongue. Dabi brings one hand to his mouth, knuckles splitting beneath his sharp teeth as he tries to muffle the sounds of pleasure that keep spilling out of him and rattling that agony that's building behind his eyes higher and higher. He's never built his orgasm with someone else before, never allowed himself to even imagine someone else's hands on him, and there is some horrible, broken thing inside of him that feels like it's fracturing further with every pass of the wolf's tongue over his prostate that tell him that he's never going to have this and have it be good. That he will always only have this desire when it's tangled around something horrible, shameful, disgusting. He doesn't ever get to feel good without that happening. 

He can't hold in the sob when it breaks free and the smell of blood goes even thicker in the air when the tears start to spill along his temples. Shigaraki's movements pause, his mouth leaving him, but not going far, only shifting so he can look up at him from between his legs. The disgust that he finds in the creature's eyes tears Dabi open at his core so acutely that Dabi immediately lets go of his hair, trying to find enough breath in his lungs to tell him to stop, to make him let go of him, but before he can, Shigaraki has his mouth against him again. His tongue pushes in roughly and he doesn't relent, bringing that ill pleasure hotter through his veins again. He makes it even worse by moving one of his hands, his palm dry and making it hurt as much as it feels good as he starts to stroke his length roughly in time with each pass of his tongue. 

"No—Ngh!" Dabi can't get his breath back, can't make his weak limbs move. He's too weak to make it stop, not because he has been rendered powerless, but because the selfish, desperate part of him that has always needed other people to make him feel good, can't conceive of pulling away from this right now when he's so sure he's close to it feeling better than his own hands have ever managed. 

He gives another sob and shakes against the ground before he can't help it. His orgasm tears through him, sharper and fuller than any frantic one he's given himself after his feeding  before and he's only barely forgetting himself through the pulses of pleasure that are going through his body before Shigaraki is moving. 

He wipes Dabi's cum away on his pants before he stands up and walks over to the sink, washing the rest of it away with the soap and then rinsing out his mouth in the sink. He walks upright like a person and leaves Dabi trembling on the floor in the aftershocks of his pleasure before he moves back over and picks up the bowl of meat and rice that he'd brought him, sitting cross-legged on the floor and ignoring him as Dabi tries to stop crying, to stop shaking, and find some semblance of dignity so he can get his legs back under him. 

He doesn't say anything before he stumbles out of the room and locks the door behind him, and he doesn't stop sobbing in his room for a long time. 

///

Tomura has never had such a miserable excuse of a vampire trying to be his owner before. Even his last one who was scared of his own shadow, had not been as blatantly... broken as Dabi seems to be. The vampire is clearly unsired, which he supposes only makes sense if he came from Ujiko's experiments, and since the end of the war, he also still hasn't found any other vampires to bond with. He's fumbling with his instincts like a child, trying on the suits of cruelty that other fangs find such ease in adopting, and showing Tomura time and time again just how badly they fit. He had been so scared of his arousal the second time he fed on him, he'd run away, and when he tried to make him service him the way that Tomura had expected, he trembled apart and sobbed like he was the one being forced into that position. He keeps trying to 'trick' his instincts into acknowledging him as an alpha, and Tomura just keeps coming to the conclusion that this man would have probably been better off if he had turned into a werewolf instead of a vampire during the experiments. His disposition would have probably been better suited to being an omega wolf, one who would have bonded to anyone who showed him a scrap of decency and never thought about his position further. 

But for as pathetic as his bids at control are, his forthcomingness is more than enough for Tomura to start to make plans of his own. Two months and then he'll be bringing him somewhere with a lot of high-ranking vampires. Possibly even his former teacher. If he can slip his collar then— Tomura flexes his fingers, feeling the way that Decay has grown beneath his flesh. If he can get out of his collar, he'll shatter the world that All For One thinks he's built for himself in an instant. And he'll have an even better chance of doing that if he gets the vampire who thinks he's in control to try to stop anyone from touching his beloved pet. 

Tomura is fairly certain that he's spent far more time around and manipulating vampires than Dabi has spent time around werewolves. He knows where to push to have the vampire bonding to him in place of a proper sire. He just needs to figure out how to make that happen without him running away in tears over and over again. Tomura considers the heat that is starting to form in his veins for the first time since it stopped being chemically induced by his second owner. This is the first time in half a year that he's felt his rut beginning to build beneath his skin. He's not sure if Dabi even knows that all of the rich foods, the room that is safe, even if it's not the most comfortable, and the lack of exposure to any other stimulation would make it build in him faster as his body desperately looks for something to do with the energy. But maybe this is something else he can use to his own advantage. Afterall, Dabi will have a hard time running when he's pinned on his knot, and maybe if he can fuck the fang past coherence, he'll be more willing to give him different leniences to keep getting that in the future. He supposes the only things going for him with this plan of action are that Dabi clearly doesn't have a dominant bone in his body no matter how hard he's trying to act like he does, and he's pathetic enough that it's kind of cute when he starts to blubber like a baby. Tomura wonders if he's ever been touched by anyone else before and he hopes he hasn't been, if only so he can ruin the fang completely. Maybe he can break him on an alpha's knot and then, even if there is some small chance that he survives the destruction that Tomura is going to unleash on this world, Dabi will never be able to pretend to have an ounce of dignity as he needs to be fucked by whatever wolf he can find. 

His cock starts to harden as he imagines having Dabi crawling around on his knees, imagines him presenting to him, his prick red and dripping as a bitching bite bleeds against his thigh. Tomura lets that thought flow through him and then ebb away. He'll have his fill during his rut and by the time he's finished, Dabi will be nothing but a sobbing puddle on the floor who knows what his place really is. Then he'll have the last piece he needs to get his revenge on this world that only ever finds new ways of destroying the downtrodden and discarded. 

///

Dabi avoids going into Shigaraki's room for a week— aside from bringing him his meals. He hates that he didn't get a hatch installed in the door, because even just those two brief interactions a day make his skin crawl. How the fuck is he supposed to train him and show him off in public when even the private training leaves him feeling filthy and disgusting? How can he not when if he fails, his siblings are going to pay the price. That certainly also isn't helping his mood, his siblings wanting to see what's wrong with him as he isolates himself further and further, but his mind not wanting to relent in the slightest. He doesn't want them to find out how he's been buying their safety or what he's being expected to do over the next two months to continue to do so. They already barely move around the house like ghosts. He doesn't want to hollow them out any further. 

Dabi opens the door, intending on just collecting the last tray and leaving Shigaraki his next, when a wave of heat fills the air as he steps inside. Dabi tenses, that smell reminds him of a fever and the terror that goes through him as he thinks that the wolf might be sick has him dropping the food, the door slamming shut behind him as he rushes over to the futon. Shigaraki is curled up on the surface in a tight ball, a tremble going through his body and the smell of his sweat in the air as clear as the sheen of it across his skin and Dabi curses, reaching over to the housing on the wall to take the chain off so that he can gather the wolf and take him— where? Dabi's mind races. What do other vampires normally do when their pets get sick? Do they even care? He didn't even know werewolves could get sick—

Dabi cries out as the chain comes free from the wall because the second that it does, Shigaraki explodes into movement as he tackles him with every ounce of strength in his body. Dabi's legs buckle beneath him, gravity shifting sharply as he hits the hard floor roughly, stars dancing across his vision as his skull cracks against the concrete and sends sickness spilling through his gut. He feels blood wetting his hair before the wound can close and then he's being thrown onto his stomach instead of his back. The world is a blur of shapes, sensations, and colors as his arms are yanked back so roughly that he feels a muscle in his shoulder tear as cold metal loops tightly around his wrists before there's a soft clatter as something it thrown against the futon before Shigaraki's hands are around his neck, the claws digging in and filling Dabi with raw terror that pulses lava through his veins as he realizes how easily the wolf could end his life—

He tries to light up his quirk and then cries out again and Shigaraki smashes his forehead into the concrete, sending his vision black again and putting nausea through his gut. "Try to set me on fire, fang," He snarls, the words sounding like they're coming from underwater as he is pulled back up enough for Shigaraki's breath to go hot over his ear, "And I'll kill you right now instead of giving you what you've been wanting, but too scared to demand."

Dabi knows that he can fill this whole room with fire, but he doesn't know how long it will take for a werewolf to burn when their bodies heal nearly as fast as a vampire’s. Dabi stood in broad daylight with his flames burning through him as well and he was still able to fight his father to the death. The chances of him burning this room down, melting the door— and Shigaraki still taking his head off before he can kill him, are not insignificant. And if Shigaraki gets out— he doesn't want to imagine what he would do to his siblings if he found them downstairs.

"You won't get out of this room—" he croaks as his cracked skull and torn muscle heal. 

"I don't need to. I just need to make sure you know who exactly is in charge from now on if you want to feel good and not starve." It's the most that Shigaraki has ever said to him, and the growl of his voice, the sureness of it, leaves Dabi terrified. That only gets worse when he pushes two fingers into his mouth and drags the pads of them over his teeth, making his skin split and filling his mouth with the hot pulse of the wolf's blood. Dabi's head spins again, dizzy from healing, from being put in this position, from how hungry he is as he's let himself starve again since the last time he fed on Shigaraki. He whimpers, all of his instincts feeling wrong, his head hazy and confused as he starts to suck at the blood in his mouth. It tastes... different than it did before, like the heat of the fever that he could smell in the air is inside of him and as it spills through Dabi's body, it makes his fever rush to meet it. He tries to twist his head away, but Shigaraki keeps him in place easily, using the chain to keep his arms pinned as he brings his other hand to the backs of Dabi's sweats and pulls the fabric down so roughly that the sound of it tearing fills the room.

He whimpers and Shigaraki scoffs as he forces his legs wider, showing him how immediately his body has betrayed him with only a few drops of blood on his tongue. "I have never met a vampire as pathetically needy as you. But I think that you should be grateful that I'm the first person to notice." His hand grabs half of his ass, spreading him open before he spits against his hole. Dabi's entire body goes hot with his humiliation, the sensation even worse because it makes his prick twitch, a pang of sharper arousal going through him as he's spoken to like this, as he's pinned down and violated by this wolf that he was supposed to train to be used like this instead. "If another vampire had gotten to you first then you wouldn't have been good for anything but getting rid of corpses. It's much more dignified to be a nice hot hole for my knot. I bet that after a few times, you'll be so wet and stuffed that you'll even feel like a nice plump omega all full of my pups." 

Dabi's whole body tenses. Knot? Like a dog's knot? Werewolves have those? In their human form? Pups? He tries to shift beneath him again, but Shigaraki only allows him to turn his head so that he can look over his shoulder, and he immediately understands why he did so. He wanted him to be even more frightened as he sees that long, thick cock he's been trying so hard to ignore, erect and flushed, somehow even bigger than he thought it was as Shigaraki lets go of his ass so he can spit into his palm and use that to slick his length. Dabi trembles beneath him, terror and ill-gotten arousal hot in his veins as he thinks he might be torn open on that cock if it's slammed inside of him. 

But Shigaraki doesn't even let him have the dignity that he might have been able to scrape together if this entire encounter was saturated in pain. No, instead he pushes his head against his rim and starts to roll his hips slowly, and the friction of their skin against each other makes the muscles start to loosen. He presses himself along Dabi's back, his breath against his ear as he pushes his fingers harder against his fangs so that Dabi has no choice but to swallow away all of the blood filling his mouth and making his body feel needier and his fear more distant, "A warm bloodsucker, isn't that a novelty?" He mocks his quirk as he holds him on the precipice of destruction as he leaves him to wonder for another moment if he could actually escape this before it goes any further. It's something small, treacherous, and that he always feels rooting him to the spot when he has another vampire's attention on him, that proposes that he shouldn't want to. He was too scared, too disgusted, of his desire to ever find a way to fill it. Maybe he needed someone else to decide what it is he should have. He hadn't wanted it when it was clear Shigaraki didn't like it, but now he's hard. Now he's the one pinning him down and—

Dabi gurgles around the fingers in his mouth, stars exploding behind his eyes as Shigaraki pushes the thick head of his cock inside of his hole. It drags against his skin, but it fills him. It's so much thicker than his tongue or fingers were, so much more solid, and the way it stretches him has Dabi's prick throbbing between his legs as he realizes how completely fucked he is, how completely he is about to be fucked. Shigaraki works his cock into him relatively slowly, but he doesn't think that's for his benefit so much as it is to make sure that the friction isn't uncomfortable for him, the wolf starting to let out animalistic growls in the back of his throat that have Dabi's skin covered in goosebumps and his nipples pebbling beneath his shirt. 

"Fuck, you're so tight, I'd say I can't tell if it's because you're terrified or just because you're a virgin, but I think we both know exactly why." His free hand reaches down, snaking around his body so that he can roughly palm Dabi's cock, and he feels his fangs sink deeper into Shigaraki's fingers as he lets out a desperate sob as pleasure tears through him. His skull was cracked open not two minutes ago and the violence and violations from the wolf, the taste of his blood behind his teeth, was still enough to make him so aroused, and that touch paired with the fullness of being stretched as he's given another inch, makes him cum. 

Shigaraki laughs, the sound hoarse and mocking as Dabi's whole body trembles from pleasure as he pushes his hips harder. More of his cock pushes inside as his muscles are made to loosen as the aftershocks of his pleasure pulse through his body, and Dabi can't see straight as he's made so, so full. He doesn't think he can be this full without being torn open and the drag of Shigaraki's cock against his walls as he starts to rut into him in sharp, shallow thrusts puts little sparks of pain going up along his spine. But the only blood he can smell in the air is from his seams, Tomura's locked away behind his lips as he starts to suck along his fingers, licking at the crimson being offered to him as he is fucked by the wolf. 

It doesn't take long before Shigaraki is holding him tighter, his hips slamming into him with a growl, before something bigger is swelling inside of him. Dabi gags, startled as his insides are forced to stretch so, so much wider, feeling like he's going to tear at any second, but before his muscles can give way, there is a gush of fluid soaking his insides and making him delirious as he discovers there are places inside of him that he didn't even know could be wet until he was suddenly pumped full with the thick, hot pulse of the werewolf's cum. 

He doesn't need to breathe, but he's the one instinctively panting in the quiet room as he's made so full and so wet. Some part of him thinks, for a second, that it's over now. Shigaraki came. That's all he wanted. He can't keep him pinned here forever or they'll both die in this room. He'll have to let him go. 

And then he draws that massive intrusion back out of his hole, cum gushing down Dabi's thighs and filling the room with the smell of it, before he slams back inside of him again. Dabi screams around the gag pressing against his tongue, and the wetness inside of him has made it so there isn't any need for Shigaraki to go slowly or shallowly this time. Instead he starts to fuck him so roughly that Dabi is sliding across the floor slightly as he fills him again and again.

Horrible. This is supposed to be horrible. He should be trying to fight this, trying to bite off Shigaraki's fingers, trying to twist away from him, threaten him, show some kind of resistance, but his body doesn't want that. His body wants to feel more of this ill-gotten pleasure that is being forced on him out of his control. He didn't know that he could get hard again without anyone touching his cock, but as he's fucked so roughly, Tomura starting to let out animal sounds of his pleasure above him, he feels himself lose his grip on reality completely as he gives another weak sob and in a matter of minutes, he's adding to the puddle of cum pooling beneath their bodies again, savoring every movement even when each subsequent thrust leaves his nerves aching sharply beneath his skin as the wolf ruins him. 

///

Dabi doesn't even struggle anymore after the first knot. That thought comes to Tomura through the haze of his need as he manipulates the vampire into the next position he wants him in. A rut is supposed to last a week. A rut is so hard on the body that he knows he'll be too weak to do much but recover by the time it's finished. But he doesn't feel like he's getting weaker as he wakes Dabi for the third time since he trapped him in this cell with him. He still feels hungry and desperate as he watches the vampire whimper and automatically spread his legs for him. His face isn't flushed, Tomura knows better than to let him drink deeply when he has so many more ways he wants to enjoy his body, but his blue eyes are hazy, barely a ring of that color visible behind those blown pupils. The bite he put in his thigh is already scarred over so he leans down and does it again, watching as the pain makes Dabi squirm, his prick hardening again from it as he struggles weakly against the chains that are around his wrists and locking them together.

"Such a needy little whore you're turning out to be," he says, the words thick on his tongue as he moves so that he can lick away some of the blood before he kisses up along his thigh to his lower stomach, to the soft bump he's put there from filling him so many times in the past... however long it's been now. Dabi's cock fills more as he says that, even as he shakes his head weakly in protest. 

"No—" 

"Shh," and it does something to his head that his bitch, even if he's not one in the ways that matter, still follows his orders immediately. "You're right, you're not a whore. Whores get paid. You're nothing but a pet, a toy that just wants to be played with." Dabi tries to shake his head, but he can't hide how much hotter that makes him as he says it. And Tomura feels that heat echo through his head as well as he presses on his stomach, enjoying the way Dabi moans as his body lets so much more of his cum gush out of his hole. "Mm, going to make room for all of my pups and then fill you up again." He sees the way that Dabi tries to spread his legs even wider and can't help letting out another cruel laugh as he does. "You want that, leech?" The thrill that goes through him as he curls one hand around Dabi's throat makes his arousal sing even higher in his veins. He could kill him right now, he could have killed him a hundred times since this started. But why would he throw away something that could be so easily molded? His grip is restraining, not damaging as he holds him where he wants him."Prove it. Bark like a good puppy." 

How many times? How many times throughout the years has he been reduced to less than human? How many times was he put into this position and made to degrade himself just for basic necessities that he still rarely got? He thought the next time he would have power of his own would be in the moment that he was tearing the world down around him. But he feels powerful now as Dabi's eyes meet his, his whole body trembling, his cock hard and straining against his stomach with his arousal as he says softly, 

"Arf?" 

Tomura pushes into his body again and marvels at how the vampire arches into it, hearing his futon tear beneath him as his nails dig into it. The rush of adrenaline that goes through him as he is able to push all the way inside, feeling how soft and wet his insides have become, how his body is still warm with the fire in his veins even though he hasn't reached for it again once since he took away the killswitch, how he hasn't even tried to get that back to free himself from Tomura's grip, fills him with arousal sharper than his rut has even managed. He shifts, letting go of his throat, unwinding the chain from around Dabi's wrists and lifting him so that he can take them out from behind his back. 

Dabi whimpers as it happens, his fingers trembling, purple and blue splotches of bruises so severe that he can see them through the scars as he is able to move them for the first time in so long. His skin will heal soon enough, but now that he's free, he doesn't seem to know what to do with himself, still looking up at him like this is all he can think of letting happen. 

"Shh, it's okay, puppy," he murmurs, leaning in closer and nosing along the seam of his cheek. It's all instinct that has him burying his face into the crook of his neck and trying to find the smell of him beyond the reek of smoke that continually rolls off of his skin. He can't help the content rumble that escapes his chest, his hips giving another slow, filthy drag inside of him to heighten his pleasure as he can smell himself inside of Dabi's veins from the little sips of blood that he's been allowing him. "You can stay right here like a good doggy. You know that you're better off being a pet anyway." 

And the way that the indecision, the flicker of fear, melts away from him as he is given an offer to not have to be in control anymore is something that makes heat ache through his entire body. The fact that Dabi uses his freedom to reach for him, his fingers not trying to scratch or push, but pulling him closer, one around the back of his neck, the other tangled into his hair as he lets out another falsely canine sound that is soaked in desperation, might make him lose his mind. Dabi sits up a little, his legs wrapping around his waist too to keep him moving deeply inside of him as he lets out little pants and moans as he takes every thrust like there is nothing better in the world. 

"M-master," It's the first word Dabi's spoken since this started in earnest and Tomura snarls in response. He doesn't think Dabi can tell the difference between a hungry sound and a furious one, so he drives his point home before he can flinch away from him by leaning in and giving the vampire the kiss that he so clearly wanted. 

Dabi's lips are uncoordinated and messy against his and the realization that he's his first kiss as well makes his wolf howl as he shows him how to make it good. And then he rewards his pet by pressing his tongue inside of his mouth and dragging it across Dabi's sharp fangs. His skin splits, the pain a faint tingle, but the wound stays open for longer than it normally would with the vampire's spit mingling with his own. Dabi sucks on his tongue needily, moaning into his mouth— 

Warmth splashes over their stomachs as a kiss and the taste of him is enough to bring his puppy back over the edge. Tomura thinks it's more than generous that he does so twice more before he sinks his knot back inside of him and keeps him pinned to the bed around it for as long as it takes for it to go down. 

Dabi doesn't fall asleep, but by the time Tomura actually does pull out of him, he finds that the other man is just dazed, still looking at him for what he needs. He wonders if the vampire looked at the sire who left him behind like this, or if there just weren't any around at all in the hospital when he was being experimented on. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a creature that is so pathetic and with such big, pretty blue eyes and not take pity on it. Tomura gathers him closer, leaning back against the wall and letting Dabi curl up in his lap, before he brings his wrist up to his mouth. 

"Just a little treat, puppy. You'll get more when you open the door." He tells him before nosing along his neck again. The smell of their sex has filled the air of this room and it all puts a deeper hunger through him again as he takes it in. It's been... a while? Hasn't it? He might actually need to eat something soon. After Dabi has his treat, he'll get him to open the door for him while he's drunk on his blood. There was another door too, wasn't there? The locked one that goes down into the main level. He doesn't think that Dabi lives with anyone else, not when he's so needy for attention wherever he can get it. But maybe he can get him to tell him more about the house before they go downstairs. Maybe he can get his docile little pet to take off his quirk collar too. 

Dabi, almost timidly closes his lips around his wrist, his teeth piercing into his flesh, doing as he was told and only taking little sips off of his veins instead of the greedy gulps that usually accompany his feeding. Tomura starts to pet his hair with his other hand, and Dabi somehow melts even more. And then the light pull at his skin starts to ebb, and he feels the other man tremble. The little hitch of breath that comes from him as he begins to cry does not bode well for his plans though and Tomura starts to shush him gently. 

"What's wrong, puppy? You can have more as soon as we leave this room, precious." 

Dabi shakes his head weakly, bringing tension through Tomura's body. He is getting out of this room, or he's dying with Dabi inside of it. He would rather just leave, but he'll tear him to pieces if he has to. "...in trouble..." the words are so soft that Tomura can barely make them out as he says it. 

"You're not in trouble, sweetheart. All you have to do is be a good puppy and open the door for me." Since the vampire has abandoned his wrist, he cups his face between his palms instead and makes him lift his head so Tomura can look at him. Tomura has seen so many people in positions so pitiful since he was turned into this. He's been the pitiful creature plenty of times himself. But he doesn't understand how the warrior he watched destroy the second greatest hero in Japan— the only other person besides All Might who could have warranted All For One's attention during the war— could be reduced to this in the end. He thinks that vampires might just be projecting when they say that werewolves can't survive without their packs. They don't need a pack, they want one. They can survive alone, but clearly a vampire without a sire is lost as they try to figure out how to navigate their hunger and instincts in these new forms with their heightened emotions. "I know how much you like to be a good puppy for your master. Won't making me happy make you feel better?" 

And it's a testament to how completely out of his head and desperate for his approval that he is, when Dabi unthinkingly gives another little bark of affirmative. Tomura smiles at him sweetly. What would the benefits be of keeping Dabi around for a little while as he tracks down his teacher? Having a vampire to pretend to hold his leash could keep people from giving him a second glance, and the fact that Dabi already appears to be so socially isolated might mean he can keep him in this headspace for as long as he needs to. 

Tomura leans in and licks away some of the bloody tears from his cheeks, knowing that for vampires, sharing blood can be as intimate as sex. He'll get him soft and hazy again and then he can open the door. If he can get this done while keeping Dabi docile, then he'll be in a better position for getting everything of worth out of him. 

He's not expecting it when the door opens as Dabi is whimpering at him, squirming because having the blood cleaned from his cheeks is making him hard again. Tomura tenses, looking up as the door opens and a warmer light than those in the cell spills past the opening, the fresh air far cooler than the air inside from how warm their bodies have been pressed together so closely for days. 

"Toy—what the fuck?" 

Dabi jolts, his head whipping around to look at the human who is standing in the doorway, his face a mixture of shock and horror. 

"Natsuo?" 

"What the hell, what the hell?" The words are accompanied by him taking a faltering step backwards and Tomura lunges. The human turns and runs, and it's only the fact that Tomura has to drop Dabi out of his lap that gives him any kind of a head start. 

"No!" Dabi still sounds like he's not all the way here, but the door is open and Tomura doesn't need him to get out anymore, and a human that is in this house will be an even better bargaining chip to keep him in line if he does need more leverage to get Dabi to take off his collar. He makes it out of the door and halfway across the threshold before Dabi manages to grab the chain that was trailing behind him and uses what strength is left in his body to pull him to a stop. Tomura half-turns, catching the links closest to him with a snarl before he yanks hard enough to have Dabi tripping over his feet and nearly falling forward as he turns around to find the human again. 

Tomura is fast, but the door down the stairs is already closed, his hands slamming into it, claws cutting through the thin layer of wood over top and scraping uselessly against the metal instead. He snarls again, and then receives another hard pull on the chain around his neck. He turns, his fangs out, ready to demand that this door be opened too, when Dabi hisses right back at him, blue flames licking up over his hands. 

"No! Get back in your cell or I'll burn you alive!" He can barely stand, his body covered in old sweat and cum, more of it leaking down his thighs, tears still on his cheeks. 

Tomura forces his instincts back and straightens up the way he hasn't been allowed to stand in years, reaching for everything he was trained to be until his teacher betrayed him. "No." 

"I swear to god—" 

"If you try, I'll tear your head off. Even if I can't put out the fire, I'll take you down with me." He tells him, not letting an ounce of trepidation into his voice. "Humans are so rare nowadays. I wonder how long it would be before someone else comes to collect him if you disappear— that is, if he even makes it out of the house before the fire spreads." 

And that's the thing that makes Dabi waver. The flames flicker in his hands, and he croaks, "I can't let you go— he'll kill them." Tomura's heard people beg for their lives before. He committed his first murder when he was four and All For One hardly had him slowing down as he was taught to cultivate his hate. He hasn't heard a vampire beg for someone else instead. 'Them'? More than one human maybe. Toya Todoroki had more family beyond his horrible father. Maybe a vampire desperate for companionship and who was probably offered the world decided all he really wanted to hold onto was a little sliver of what had been his home from before his whole life turned out like this. Pressure points, ones that are even more exploitable than threatening Dabi himself. 

"Come over here and undo my collar, and you and I can stay up here and you're going to be a good pet and do whatever I say until I've decided what I'm going to do with you." He takes a step closer to the other man daring him to try to light his skin on fire, before he adds, "Or I'll keep you locked up here for so long that your friend gets curious again, and when he opens the door next time, I'll snap his neck. Or better yet," he leans in close, letting his breath ghost against Dabi's ear as he continues, "I'll bite him. You vampires have to make that a whole thing when you want to turn someone. But I just need to nick his skin, with my teeth, with my claws, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that if he's strong enough, he'll survive the change and he'll be mine. He'll kill you himself if I give the order. And if he isn't suited to becoming a wolf? Then when he starts to shift the first time, you'll get to watch as every one of his bones splinter and snap, tearing him apart from the inside out as he screams the entire time." 

Fresh bloody tears start to slip over Dabi's cheeks, a tremor running through his body as he tries to weigh his options. But there are no good ones. For whatever reason, Dabi seems to already think his sibling surviving is linked to Tomura living as well. Kill him and he loses anyway. Play the game, he encourages him without words, it's the only way to get at least a few steps further than he is right now. 

Dabi lets out a weak sob before he puts out the flames on his hands, the smell of burning flesh still wafting around the hall with them for a moment before he starts to reach for his collar. Tomura grabs one of his wrists in a tight grip, keeping a finger raised in anticipation, 

"You don't need both to key in a code." He tells him coolly, ensuring the vampire doesn't try to decapitate him in some desperate bid instead. 

Dabi takes a shaky breath and types in the code. It takes a few seconds and then the lock buzzes softly. The metal clicks and the chain drags it off of his neck, letting him feel cool air against that skin for the first time in six years. He lets out a slow breath and keeps hold of Dabi's wrist as he reaches down and picks up the collar, five fingers against the metal as he lets Decay spread across the surface causing it to rust, crack, and turn to dust before his eyes. he catches the chain before it starts to go as well, raising a finger so he can take the links and wrap them tightly around Dabi's wrists again. 

"There, now is your friend going to go calling someone for help?" 

Dabi stares down at their feet, every line of him defeated. But after a second, he shakes his head weakly. 

"Are you sure?" 

"There's no one for him to call." He croaks. "They know that anyone else would—" 

Prisoners in this house too then, if only because the society outside of it would have them tested and turned into either breeding stock or corpses depending on if they have quirks or not. 

"Good. Now why don't you show me the rest of this floor." It's not a suggestion as he tightens the slack in the chain and, with a thrill that reminds him how quickly the adrenaline chased away the lingering threads of his rut, he savors saying, "Heel," before he starts to make his way down the hallway, his new pet in step beside him. 

///

Dabi feels like death. The filthy stickiness that was clinging to his body before, how Shigaraki had been holding him close and being so gentle and sweet even though what was happening had been wrong, turning so quickly and so completely into the threats and violence that had come out when Natsuo had seen him like that. He could have died. He— he saw him. Dabi's gut rolls with nausea. He wasn't ever supposed to be seen like that. His siblings had already been unhappy knowing that he had bought a wolf to keep as a donor, he can't imagine how horrified they'll be to hear that he had been fucking him. Will they even believe him if he tells them he didn't want it? 

It's a treacherous little voice in the back of his mind that tells him that they shouldn't believe him. He did want it. He could have picked any werewolf. He picked the dangerous one who had killed before not just because he was cheap, but because he had found him attractive from the start. He's the one who didn't lock up his cock in a cage, a precaution he now understands the necessity of, because looking at it had been such a temptation, one that followed him out of that room and had his hands on his body instead. Shigaraki may have made the first move, but he had been trained to do that, and Dabi was the one who gave in and allowed himself to use his mouth to make him feel good. He's the one who hadn't struggled once the other man had his cock inside of him. How many times could he have escaped but he chose not to because it had felt so good to be held down and made to feel the pleasure Shigaraki could give his body, even at the cost of everything? No, his siblings won't believe him if he told them he didn't want it, that Shigaraki had forced him into those positions, because he can't even believe him. And now they're all in even more danger than they were before. 

He's trembling, fear saturating his veins as he sits on the edge of the tub in his bathroom as Shigaraki showers. The hot water is making steam swirl around them and as the wolf cleans his body with the soaps that Dabi has been using, layering his skin with the scent of him. This is only the first thing that he's done with his newfound freedom, and every line of Dabi's body is tight with his fear over what the next will be.

He's not expecting Shigaraki to whistle and pull at the chains binding his wrists and pull him towards the shower as well. "Come here, puppy." 

His whole body goes hot with his humiliation and he keeps his head fully down as he is pulled into the shower. Shigaraki makes him sit on the stool he has inside for the days when his pain is too high and he can't stand, or when his nightmares leave his body so hot he needs to stay beneath the cold spray for hours. He has Dabi sit, and then he starts to work the soap along his hair and body the way that Dabi had been doing for him for the past week. A mockery of the instincts he was trying to shape. All of this is a mockery and he doesn't know how he is going to survive it if Shigaraki is capable of turning it to cruelty as easily as he did before. 

He says nothing as Shigaraki washes the filth from his skin, but when he pulls on his chains to make him stand, he expects that the other man is finished with this now. He doesn't expect him to use his considerable strength, adrenaline hot fear making sparks leap off his skin when it happens, as those deadly hands pin him up against the slick wall. 

"Don't—!" 

"Shh," Shigaraki's voice is so self-assured and amused as he keeps one hand braced around the back of his neck to keep him there, his other trailing his fingers lightly down his spine. "Just getting you clean everywhere, puppy. Be a good dog and I'm sure I won't slip." 

Dabi whimpers as he feels his deadly hand moving down his body, spreading him open around his fingers, rubbing soap over the filthiest part of him and making that helplessness come back even sharper behind his ribs. Shigaraki presses them inside and he feels the squelch of old cum as he eases it out of him, and he wants to disappear when, despite everything, that sensation and the gentle massaging of his sensitive walls starts to make his body feel warmer again. Tremors start to go through his body before long, and no matter how Dabi tries to bite his lip or strain his hands against the chains and let that pain creaking across his bones distract him, neither sensation can stop the ill-gotten arousal from going through him again. He wants it to stop, he tells himself desperately, trying to find a way to make the words true, but Shigaraki chuckles at him like he already knows how he's lying to himself in the privacy of his own mind. 

"One more and then you're going to keep being a good boy for me as I figure out what I should do with you next." Like this is an indulgence, a treat for a spoiled pet and not a way that he's making Dabi's sanity shatter as his hand shifts to the center of his back so his lips can start to ghost over his neck while he pushes three fingers inside of his body and starts to rub them against his prostate. Dabi squirms beneath him, shaking his head with a weak sob as he feels his prick filling rapidly. 

Shigaraki doesn't pay his protests any attention, and why would he? It's so clear how much Dabi wants this no matter what he might actually say to another person. He doesn't think there's anyone on the planet who wouldn't look at how quickly he starts to moan and rock back into the touches through his shame, that would think the blood on his cheeks is anything but crocodile tears. It's that tangle of sour emotions in his head that have him cumming so hard after only a few minutes, his spend streaking white against the wall in front of him as his legs go so weak. 

"You're going to be such a good boy for me while I'm training you." There's no question in his tone, only amusement as he pulls Dabi away from the wall and sprays him down one last time before he has them both exiting the shower. 

He dries them off and then walks Dabi out into the rest of his apartment, past his bedroom and back into the kitchen and living room area that are on this side of the house. He makes him sit at his small kitchen table and then he goes over to the fridge and looks inside. The array of meat inside earns a soft snort from the wolf, but he does take out a thick steak that Dabi had been planning on feeding him this week. He sets it on the table and then finds the glasses in the cabinet, he takes down two. One he fills with water from the tap and the other— Shigaraki brings his wrist to his mouth and uses his own sharp teeth, though far less exact than Dabi's, to tear open the skin of his wrist so that he can press the open wound over the rim of the cup and bleed inside of it. 

When he sits back down in front of him with a quarter of a cup of blood in the glass, he keeps it close to him so that Dabi couldn't take it even if he wasn't restrained. 

"How many humans are here? Lie to me, and I'll decay the door and find out myself." 

"Three." He croaks weakly. "Please—" 

"Three, your siblings then? I remember your youngest brother on the frontlines during the war. He has quite the powerful quirk. He should have been killed at the end of it. So either you're hiding them here, or someone else knows they're here." Shigaraki watches him, red eyes too sharp. Who the fuck was this guy before he was a werewolf? Who was he when he was in the war to have earned not being killed for all of the trouble he's caused past owners, but not enough that he should be killed? "And given what you've already said, I imagine someone else knows they're here and you are required to be a presentable general if you want to be allowed to keep them." Shigaraki rests his knuckles against his cheek and watches him, amusement so clear in his expression as he adds, "Based on your performance in that final battle, I wouldn't have thought that you would ever go to such lengths for your family." 

Dabi has not been relaxed for a single moment, so he hopes he doesn't betray himself any more by tensing further as he remembers the aftermath of the battle. Some of AFO's people had dragged him from the smoldering crater his fight had left in the earth and then he had been force-fed blood until he hadn't been on the verge of death anymore. They took him to a warehouse, All For One telling him there were refugee humans that they needed to decide what to do with. He hadn't cared. He said to kill them all. And then one of the guards had pulled the hood from Rei's head and taken the gag from her mouth so she just had time to say his name before the vampire behind her snapped her neck. Dabi hadn't thought he had any love for his family then. He hadn't thought he would care if they lived or died but seeing that had made something shift inside of him. AFO made him beg to hold off the executions, and then he had taken their quirks. They made their deal not long later. 

"What price are you paying to keep them here? And why is it related to me?" 

"Who were you?" Dabi croaks instead. It's been three years. Three years of keeping his siblings safe and trying to keep them from asking questions like this, and Shigaraki sees through all of them barely an hour after seeing them for the first time. 

Shigaraki dips his fingers into his water glass and then flicks them into Dabi's face lightly spritzing him with the cold fluid. "Bad dog." 

The absurdity of the action only makes Dabi feel more hollowed out, and he gives up. He has given up and given in to so many things that have been demanded of him since this all started, and he doesn't know how he can get out of this now without leaving his siblings to fend for themselves or trying to appeal to some kind of humanity in Shigaraki. He talks for a while, explaining what happened to him in the hospital, how he had been used during the war, what happened after he was forced to survive killing his father and all of the human's he's tracked down over the past few years just to keep his siblings alive, and how he only has a short reprieve from that right now if he can prove that he was the one to tame such a vicious wolf when it comes to the official independence celebration in a little over a month. He talks and Shigaraki listens, his eyes intense and his ears tilted forward, showing that he is hanging onto every word. 

"I'm only here to keep them alive. I don't care about anything else. I hated the world of heroes, and this new one isn't any better. It still turns people into tools to be used by the people at the top—" he shuts his mouth, swallowing smoke and sparks. He doesn't need to tell Shigaraki that. Whatever he was before, he was sold into slavery and has been tortured and dehumanized every day that Dabi has been able to live in this house, able to keep himself and his family fed and safe from the greatest cruelties that have now become so commonplace in this world. 

"Good dog." Is all the wolf says in response before he puts the glass of blood in front of him. Dabi's wrists are still bound, but he could bring it to his lips if he wanted to, and even though the smell of it is making his stomach cramp with hunger, he can't bring himself to pick it up even as Shigaraki starts to cut into the raw steak. He doesn't say anything for a good long while. "There will be all of All For One's cabinet at that event?" 

"...I think so." 

"And he'll be in attendance as well?" 

"From what he told me." 

"Good. Then when we go to that event, we'll make sure that he has no questions of if you've managed to tame me and then you will be out from under his scrutiny for a while longer." 

Dabi stares at him for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what he's being told. "What?" 

"I'm going to destroy this world just like I intended to destroy the heroes and I am going to make sure that my former teacher knows that he failed to see it coming before he crumbles away under my palm. You have status and the means to go mostly unnoticed while I plan. Killing him now is an option, but you and your siblings will become the primary targets. And it will be no easy task to keep you doing what I say if they're in danger and distracting you. So I'm going to help you find ways to get them out of the country, and as soon as they're safe, you're going to do whatever I ask as I tear down this country until the only thing left are piles of dust where their cities used to be." Shigaraki holds his gaze for a long moment, "Have I made myself clear?" 

It takes an eternity for him to actually make sense of what he's being told, but after a moment, he manages to give a weak nod. 

"While we're here, aside from when we're working on our public appearances, you're my pet. You're much better suited to that role anyway." 

Shigaraki goes back to his meal and Dabi stays where he is, the blood cooling more and more in the cup as he tries to make sense of how he's being used now. 

///

"Toya?" Fuyumi's voice crackles from the speaker beside his bed, the intercom linked to the lower floor so they don't ever need to come upstairs and he can make sure that they've closed the sun shades when he wants to come down during the day to spend time with them. He shifts, trying to squirm out from underneath Shigaraki's arm. The wolf, even being incredibly secure in the fact that if Dabi killed him, it would lose him one of his siblings, had refused to sleep without him close and he had pulled him tight to his body and taken over his bed. Dabi manages to hit the button and whispers back, 

"What is it?" 

She pauses, hearing the hush in his voice and then meeting it with her own. "Is everything okay? Natsuo came downstairs really startled earlier and he's been locked in his room since." 

He feels strange and not quite sure if he's lying or not when he mumbles back, "Everything's fine. He just... walked in on something embarrassing." 

"Oh. Oh!" He knows the way that she must be cringing because he's doing it himself as he frames what his brother saw like that. "Oh, well, I'm sure that he'll be fine then. Okay, and you're alright?" 

Dabi hesitates, it feels like an eternity for him, but he knows that it's so short of a pause that a human might not even notice that it's happened. Is he? Is this alright? He's wanted to get out of this position from the second he was put into it. If Shigaraki has a way of doing that and can get his siblings out, then he can survive this. "Yeah, I'm fine. I... might be up here for a while. I need to get things in order for a project I'm taking on." 

"Okay, let us know if you need anything." 

"Okay." He doesn't point out that she can't do anything for him, that she still wants to give and serve other people because that's what she spent so much time doing when she still had a life of her own, that all of that is gone now and she's not going to get it back, at least not in Japan. He turns off the intercom and is startled when Shigaraki pulls him closer again. His hands are mostly covered, having found a set of gloves shoved in the back of Dabi's closet and tearing away the  thumb so that he could sleep without risking killing either of them with a stray touch. 

He brings Dabi so that he's laying against his chest again, hearing the strong beat of his heart thrumming there, and Dabi doesn't know if the sound is making him hungry or if it's distracting him from how deafening the silence of his apartment usually is at night. He doesn't need to sleep anymore, but the too many hours that he spends alone too often make him feel like he might shatter apart. So he keeps trying. But the going to sleep part of that ritual only makes him more aware of the emptiness. 

"Do they know?" 

Dabi barely shakes his head and Shigaraki sighs softly.

"Go back to sleep, puppy. We're going to make this work." 

It's been... twenty years since someone else told him that he could rest, since they did so in a way that made Dabi sure that they meant that they would make sure it would be okay if he did take the time to recover from the day. He knows that he shouldn't trust the wolf, that despite what he said earlier, he could have been lying. He could kill him and go downstairs and kill or turn his siblings just as easily, before anyone knew what happened here, then he could go out and get his revenge all on his own. But his heartbeat is steady beneath his ear and the warm smell of spice and storms that roll off his skin are... good. They're quieting, and they make it easier for him to close his eyes and surrender to sleep than he's been able to do in the past several years. 

///

"You're terrible at this." Shigaraki's voice is as flat as his expression despite the fact he's the one on the floor, leather collar around his neck, and the leash in Dabi's hands. He feels himself flush but hopes that the werewolf hasn't given him enough blood today for the color to actually be visible beneath his skin. 

"You're a dog!" He snaps right back. "Dogs are supposed to bark and listen to their owners!" He had been, he thinks, rightfully skeptical that Shigaraki would really be willing to pretend to belong to him for the public appearance that they were going to need to make when they go to the celebration. 

Shigaraki gives him a flat look from where he is on the floor and then he huffs slightly and barks. He is, unsurprisingly, far better at that than Dabi is, and he sits the way that Dabi had originally instructed him to. 

He takes another breath and then says, "Heel." 

Shigaraki doesn't seem any more enthused about that order than the last one, but when Dabi gives a weak tug at his collar, he manages not to roll his eyes before he moves to his side. Dabi takes him in a circuit around the kitchen and living room, just to try to get them both used to how he'll be moving around when they're in public, and the way that he feels his embarrassment making his quirk boil beneath his skin only makes him more confused over how nonchalant Shigaraki is about this whole thing. They'd come to their agreement a week ago,  and since then Shigaraki is more like... an unpleasant roommate than anything else. He wears Dabi's clothes, sleeps in his bed, eats his food, and generally orders him around throughout the day as he uses his laptop and phone to try to make sense of the world he's only gotten glimpses of since he was put into captivity at the start of the war. Dabi doesn't really fault him for any of that, but it is humiliating how he makes him sleep in the same bed with him and how he has insisted on trying to get him to appear as a competent pet owner if he wants to keep going forward with their arrangement. 

"Are we do—" He squeaks as Shigaraki suddenly turns, shoving his shoulders into the side of Dabi's legs and making him fall to the couch. "Hey!" But before he can fully right himself again, the wolf has his hands wrapped around his thighs, one finger raised on each, and is using his strength to pin him down as he pushes his legs open and keeps his thighs spread with his body. He presses his nose against the crotch of his pants and that humiliation spears through him quirk-hot into unwanted arousal, making Dabi drop the leash and desperately reach to push his head away from him before he can smell it. "Stop it! B-bad dog!" 

Shigaraki's eyes flick up to his, and the look is so flat that even without words, he can hear the other man telling him that if he doesn't believe it, there's no way that someone like AFO will instead. He reaches for the waistband of his pants and Dabi tries to push his hands away weakly. Shigaraki hasn't touched him like this in days, but... it's something that has been living in the back of his mind like a weed. It's wrong, it was always wrong. This want has always been awful and disgusting, something put inside of him at the same time his heart was forced to stop beating. Shigaraki licks along his cock through the fabric of his sweats, letting his tongue lave so much saliva there that it soaks through the fibers and lets him feel it along his hardening length. Dabi whimpers, his fingers tangling into the long-sleeved shirt that Shigaraki is wearing as he shakes his head weakly again, not daring to use his words because he knows how false they would sound if he let them out. 

"You're terrible at being an owner, and no wolf or vampire is going to think that you got me under control unless you learn how to stand tall for yourself. They really did a number on you. Did you ever even meet your sire?" He mouths along his cock as he finishes speaking and Dabi's whole head is so messy, the need for more of that wrong pleasure, the way that any flicker of that desire makes his hunger turn from a dull ache in the back of his mind to something absolutely ravenous, and trying to make sense of the words is all too much for him. 

"My sire?" 

Shigaraki sighs, and Dabi has to bite his lip hard, filling his mouth with the taste of his own blood, as that sensation goes over his sensitive skin. He pulls away and Dabi has to fight every perverse, twisted part of him to stop from begging him to come back. He sits back on his heels and looks up at him, "Your sire, is the person who turned you into a vampire. I thought they might have something to help keep you all from going feral, but clearly not. Your sire is supposed to teach you how to feed and how to regulate your heightened emotions. I guess you were more useful to them when you were so out of control the only thing you were thinking about was your revenge. But I can't rely on you if you're always this close to letting your emotions take over your sense." Shigaraki stands up and reaches for his collar, taking it off and dropping it and the leash onto the coffee table before he sits down on the couch beside him. Dabi feels childish as he squeezes his legs together and shifts to angle his body away from him, his shame still burning bright beneath his veins. Through the long pause of those movements, Dabi thinks that Shigaraki might be expecting him to say something, but he doesn't have any words. He already knew he was wrong, he thought he'd outlived his usefulness years ago. If Shigaraki just becomes the latest person to discard him, then that wouldn't really be any surprise. 

"Fine." Shigaraki's tone brokers no room for argument and he picks up the leash and collar again. Dabi isn't expecting for him to tighten it around his neck instead, pulling it tight before he takes a step back. "Heel." 

Dabi's whole body shivers from heat. "Wh—" 

Shigaraki bares his teeth and hisses at him. It's not a wolfish snarl, it's a hiss, the way that Dabi hisses and it immediately makes him staunch his protests and leaves him feeling dazed. "You clearly aren't capable of learning without being led, so you're going to be my pet for the rest of the day. If you earn it, then you can get a reward later. Heel." 

Dabi slips off of the couch without another word, looking up at Shigaraki like there is a magnetism to him that leaves him unable to look away. 

"Better. In public a good pet shouldn't need verbal commands to do what their master wants. That draws attention to them and can be considered uncouth and distracting in some companies." Shigaraki talks like he really does know what this all is, like he knows vampire culture better than Dabi has ever even tried to, and he sits on the ground and listens to him with bated breath. He crawls around on the floor the way he's told to, he eats scraps of food out of Shigaraki's fingers when he's given them, and the longer this goes on, the more the embarrassment under his skin sweetens and sours, arousal and shame making it harder and harder for him to focus as his cock gets so hard that he doesn't have a hope of hiding it when he's asked to sit, and can't stop trembling when he's made to walk around the room. 

He's panting softly when Shigaraki stops him in the bedroom. He clicks his tongue and has Dabi sit on the floor as he sits on the foot of the bed, red eyes dragging over him to the shame tenting his pants that he doesn't dare to cover because he's a dog. A dog wouldn't know that it should cover itself up. 

"Omegas and betas are used to being used sexually by their other pack members in non-familial packs, and vampires who are able to establish themselves as their alphas, are easily able to take advantage of that subservience and have a more docile pet. Alphas have to be broken or bitched, their cocks locked up, thighs marked, and raped regularly to make them submit." Dabi flinches at the words and Shigaraki's eyes narrow. "And well before vampires enslaved us, werewolf packs were using bitching as a tool among themselves. Made packs with too many alphas needed a way to create a clear organization of leadership, and in packs without omegas, they needed someone who could help them get through a rut. Betas don't have the same secondary secondary sex characteristics as alphas or omegas, but those two do. Omegas just stop developing before they get a knot and alphas bodies just don't turn on their slick glands unless they receive enough stimulation over a long enough time period to turn them on. Vampires exploited this weakness, and used it to their advantage because they're so fucking bad at keeping humans alive as thralls." Shigaraki sounds just as disgusted by that as he does talking about the subjugation of his species. "Vampires are impulsive, their existence is inherently selfish and parasitic. They can't create anything, they just destroy what they can get their hands on. That is boiled right down to their emotions and the way that they are hungry all the time. They don't group together in family units, and it's beyond a rarity that they will choose to cohabitate with other vampires outside of a spawn who acts as a servant, chewtoy, and fuckdoll. Sires make other vampires just to keep themselves entertained, and then they keep their spawn tight under thumb until they get bored with them because they have to. Otherwise one wrong word could have the spawn getting so emotional that they might lash out against their sire and kill or maim them. Making a spawn takes a lot out of a vampire because it's unnatural for them to do. Their spawn is stronger than they are for a long time, and keeping such strict control over them is how they ensure that they don't find out about that." 

"You didn't have anyone to teach you when to let out those heightened emotions which is why you can't regulate them now. I wouldn't be surprised if I was the first person you ever fed on directly." Dabi tenses where he's sitting and Shigaraki doesn't even have the grace to look smug. "You never had anyone touch you either, have you? You just drank down whatever bagged portions you could get and then got off fucking your hand." 

And his arousal had lowered, his cock not aching quite so much as he listened to what Shigaraki knows about this world that he hasn't been able to stumble into without risking the safety of his siblings. But when attention is put back on it, that shame starts to eat at him again as he tries not to squirm as he's dressed down so easily. 

Shigaraki reaches back and gets one of the pillows off his bed. It's a decorative one that the person who decorated the house had put on the bed. A firm long cylinder that he always tosses to the foot when he goes to sleep because it's the worst pillow on the planet. Shigaraki throws it so that it is in front of him and Dabi feels his stomach sink. 

"You're a needy, useless mutt, and I'm going to have to teach you when you're allowed to act like it before anyone will believe that I submitted to you after how hard I've fought everyone else who has ever tried to get me to do so." He looks down at him and Dabi shudders from how small he feels under that look. "So you're only going to get to feed and feel good when I say you can. And you're going to start by showing me just how desperate you really are to feel good." He waits expectantly and Dabi is starting to shake from how hot his arousal is beneath his skin again. His cock is straining against the front of his pants and he can't think straight as he tries to... mount the pillow. He spreads his legs wide, letting the fabric pull tighter against his erection, before he has that firm pillow pressed between his legs. 

The pressure immediately makes him see stars and he gives a weak twitch of his hips.

And then the collar goes taut as the leash is yanked hard, nearly making him fall forward as he brings his attention quickly back to Shigaraki. "Bad dog. Not until your master gives you permission." 

The whine that comes out of him in response doesn't even sound like it could have come from his throat but having the wolf looking at him like that, having him force his shame to be on display like this, makes his whole body even hotter than it was before. Dabi manages to lock his hips in place, but he doesn't manage to spare himself any further embarrassment when being so completely controlled by the other man makes him gush pre inside of his pants, creating a visible wet spot over the head of his cock where it's straining against them. 

"That's so cute and pathetic, puppy. You've always been so pathetic, haven't you? It's a good thing that I'm here now to teach you where you belong or someone else would have eventually found a way to make you their eager little bitch instead." And the words come ladened with the understanding of the information that Shigaraki gave him the moment before, which only makes the insult sting his nerves more sharply. He tries not to let it do anything else to him, but he can't help how badly it makes his body ache for release. 

"That was a cute sound too, puppy." He smiles at him, something so vicious in it even as he doesn't let it put any of his sharp teeth on display. "Why don't you show me how adorable you are when you beg like a dog and maybe you'll earn a treat." 

Dabi doesn't hesitate for a second, yipping and whining as best he can to try and get the other man to give him what he wants. 

Shigaraki makes him do it until his throat feels dry and his pants are soaked with pre-cum before he lets the leash go a little slacker and says, "Alright, puppy. Show your master how good it feels to hump a pillow like an animal."

Dabi doesn't have the mind to protest, his fingers just sink deep into the low pile of the carpet as he starts to rut his hips into the plush surface. The first touch of friction has him moaning loudly as he completely loses any ability to keep himself from moving as roughly and quickly as he can to feel good. He hasn't felt good since he let Shigaraki do all of those things to him. Even when he aches for it in the shower, he hasn't been able to get himself over the edge because— because Shigaraki wasn't the one there forcing his body to do that. He couldn't stop his shame from souring his arousal too close to his climax and he just kept ending up stroking his soft cock with a sob in his throat. But with those eyes on him now, not disgusted, but amused, as Dabi's mouth falls open around his moans and pants like he really isn't anything but an animal as he grinds his clothed cock against the plush surface, he can't stop himself from feeling that pleasure go through him again. He keeps moving, smoke starting to trickle out from his seams, every push and press not only giving himself something to rock against, but dragging the slickening fabric of his sweats and undergarments over his cock again and again, bringing even more sensation there and making the friction sweeter. He doesn't think he's managed to last even five minutes before he's letting out another loud moan as he pushes in one more time before he cums so hard that his fingers tear loose chunks of his carpet as he soaks his pants with a puddle of cum. 

Dabi trembles as he stays straddling the pillow, each fresh wave of pleasure that pulses along his cock making his head feel full and his limbs so heavy. It's only when Shigaraki pulls on his leash that he manages to blink and focus on him again, and even that still feels so distant. 

"Such a dirty, needy pet," he coos at him, getting him to dismount the pillow and crawl over to the foot of the bed. He brings his other hand to his cheek, stroking along his seam and then down to his chin where he wipes away the trickle of drool that is dripping along his chin. "That's okay. You're going to learn to be such a good boy for me, aren't you?" 

Dabi forgets himself for a moment, just nodding weakly. Anything. He'll be anything for Shigaraki if he doesn't have to be what he was before, if he can feel this good all of the time instead. He was never made to be a person in the first place. This is better. 

"How do good dogs tell their owners they're doing what they're told?" 

He gives another weak bark and Shigaraki smiles at him before his hand goes up to his hair and he strokes it, his nails scraping lightly over his scalp and making Dabi press back into the touch. 

"Good boy." 

Shigaraki stands from the edge of the bed and makes him heel again, trying to walk him around the room another time. But as he crawls, he becomes even more aware of the sticky puddle of cum that is clinging to his skin and making him so wet and disgusting— and his cock starts to get hard again. By the time they're back in the bedroom, Shigaraki is shaking his head lightly. 

"I think someone made a mistake, you shouldn't have ever been turned into anything but a needy little omega. Then no one would expect anything from you but being a nice tight hole and a cute leaking cock." 

Dabi whimpers at him, wanting to get back on the pillow again immediately. 

"You need to learn how to be patient, puppy. You only get to play with your naughty cock when I give you permission. On your pillow."

Dabi goes immediately and barely restrains himself from moving before he tells him to. 

"You can make yourself feel good, pet." 

He starts to move again. His hips are, somehow, even more frantic than they were the first time. The squelch of old cum inside of his pants is obscene and he can't look away from Shigaraki as he lets himself be turned into nothing but a desperate, rutting animal for his amusement. He's worthless. He couldn't have gotten this far without someone turning him into something he wasn't, he couldn't be a good vampire, he hasn't been able to keep his siblings safe on anything but charity, and he hasn't ever been able to feel good without the sensation being soaked in something wrong and foul. But he still keeps rushing back towards it. He knows that he should be disgusted enough to not want it, to not like it, but Dabi races towards another orgasm so quickly that he doesn't think he could have stopped himself from cumming if Shigaraki had knocked him flat on his back. He moans loudly as he shudders through his second orgasm, but before the pleasure can finish coursing through him and his body can slump, the collar it tugged on and his attention is pulled back to the wolf. 

"Bad dog, I didn't say that you could stop." His expression is cool and unflinching as he speaks. 

Dabi blinks, trying to make sense of the words. "Woof?" 

"I said that you would play with your needy cock when I gave you permission. That means you don't stop playing until I give you the order. Keep moving, puppy." 

His head is so hazy, but he starts to shift his hips again anyway. His sweatpants are completely soaked, the cum leaving sticky streaks against the fabric of the pillow as he tries to grind himself into it. That sharp pleasure-pain that he's only ever felt when Shigaraki was fucking him comes back, making his length ache and tingle. His body wants to be spent now, but forcing his hips to keep moving is continuing to give him the friction that felt so good a second ago. It's sharp and uncomfortable and... it makes his arousal start to build again as he's once again told what to be for Shigaraki's amusement. He knows immediately that this is beyond anything that he could have ever conceived of on his own and he starts to make more bitten-off sounds of pleasure as he continues to move. He isn't supposed to like this. 

It takes longer than his first or second, but Dabi manages to hit his third orgasm, and the puddle in his pants only grows a little bit more before he looks at Shigaraki desperately. He thinks that maybe he'll get a reprieve, but then he smells him and sees him. The wolf is still sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his leash. His eyes are still watching him, intense and hungry now as he sees that his cock is half-hard from... watching him. From making Dabi debase himself. The scent of his arousal is thinner than the overwhelming reek of Dabi's going through the room, but it's still there, still heady and crackling through the air like lightning. 

And even though it hurts, his cock starts to get hard again and Shigaraki watches him expectantly.  Dabi starts sobbing before he's fully hard again. The pillow and his pants are soaked, the smell of his cum sour and awful as the pain and pleasure along his cock have him gasping and quivering as he tries to make it just feel good. He can't manage that, not really, but that sharpness becomes entirely too much for his nerves all too soon and this orgasm comes with only a slight twitch of his hips and a sob that shakes through his entire body as nothing comes out of him even though his aching balls still try to go so tight as it happens. 

"That's a good boy. I think your cute prick isn't going to distract you anymore for the rest of the day." Shigaraki says, drawing Dabi's attention back to him through the bloody tears on his cheeks. He watches as the wolf spreads his legs wider as he shifts to pull the sweats down over his hips, just enough so that he can take out his own cock and show Dabi the thick, tempting length that he's been dreaming about since he first saw it and that he's been so desperate to have inside of him again since the end of Shigaraki's rut. "And I think that it's time I give my pet his reward. Come here, precious, I'm sure you're hungry." 

Dabi doesn't have the space in his mind to wonder if it's fucked for him to be so excited about having a cock in his mouth. He just knows that his mouth is watering as he crawls off the pillow and between the wolf's legs. Shigaraki reaches for him then, one hand curled around the base of his cock and the other catching Dabi around the back of his neck as he draws him in. He can smell the heat of his blood rushing through his veins and feels his fangs lengthen, even though he knows that he needs to put them away to make room for Shigaraki's cock in his mouth. "Open wide." 

His mouth falls open immediately, trying to show how good he'll be for his master to use. Shigaraki looks at his teeth and Dabi tries to make his fangs retract, but after another second, he moves his hand to press his thumb back between Dabi's molars to keep him from being able to bite down roughly, pulling at the staple in his cheek on that side and making his whole body feel even more warm and hazy from how he allows himself to be manipulated into the positions that his master wants. 

"Not too hard, puppy, or I won't let you do this again." Shigaraki warns, but Dabi can't quite make sense of what he means before he's feeding his cock into his mouth. 

The flavor of his skin is slightly salty from the day, but Dabi can barely taste that when his length is so hot and hard, so full of blood that it makes his stomach clench around his gnawing hunger even as he tries so, so hard to keep those instincts at bay. He needs to behave. Dabi tries to close his lips around him as Tomura feeds himself halfway into his mouth, enough so that he's stretching his jaw even more and the weight of him is heavy against his tongue as he starts to lick at him, feeling the softness of his skin and finding the enticing veins that wind beneath it. Shigaraki takes a slow breath and then presses himself up a bit, putting the tips of Dabi's fangs against his cock. 

He tries to shift, but stops moving quickly when Tomura murmurs, "Come on, puppy, it's time for you to eat." 

Dabi stares up at him uncomprehendingly. He's so hungry, but Shigaraki can't possibly— The three fingers cupping his lower jaw start to coax it closed and Dabi whimpers as he... bites. 

His fangs are so sharp that they sink into his flesh without resistance when he allows them too, and Shigaraki flinches, his cock softening slightly against his tongue as he lets out a slow, pained breath. But then he pushes harder between his teeth to make Dabi retract them from his skin. And the blood that was rushing to make him hard spills out across his tongue instead, hot and saturated with that rich spice of his master's arousal and Dabi is left moaning, sobbing, as his hands scratch desperately over Shigaraki's thighs before he's trying to get his cock as deeply into his mouth as possible. It's automatic for his tongue to find the little punctures he's left along his length, licking those to keep them open as he sucks at the rest of him, trying to draw more of his meal into his mouth. 

"Fuck, that's it, puppy." He takes his hand away from his mouth, "Should've known how desperate you would be for even a drop." He sounds breathless, his heart beating faster in his chest as Dabi gets him all the way into his throat so he can swallow away his blood as quickly as it fills his cock, bobbing his head to catch more of that flavor on his tongue and whimpering when the meal and the saltiness of the pre that leaks inside of his mouth make his own arousal try to surge back to life under his skin. He sobs weakly as that feeling tries to go to his cock, but it's too sore, too spent, and it just aches as he stays soft in his soiled pants. He's not expecting Tomura to wipe away some of his tears before he curls his fingers into his hair, holding him tight as he rolls his hips forward, pushing himself back into his throat roughly and making Dabi feel so full as he takes his full length and gets the wounds bleeding directly against his tongue. The sound of his sob, of his moan, are muffled around the hot, hard flesh between his teeth and the needy swallows as he tries to take as much blood as he can get from the shallow punctures he put into his skin. 

"So cute crying like that, sweetheart," He murmurs, his eyes on his and starting to glow as he looks down at him. "You just can't help it, can you? Poor thing. How little pleasure you must have had in your life even before this for it to always make you cry so easily. That's okay, baby boy, I'm going to give you as much as you can take so long as you're being a good boy for me and playing your role in public." He guides Dabi a little more, making sure that he is going at the pace he wants, and then he starts to move his hips harder and faster, bring his length deeper and deeper into his throat, until he has to wait for him to pull back to be able to swallow the mixture of pre-cum and blood that have gathered inside. Each swallow makes his whole body tingle, the blood nourishing him and trying to be enough that he can reach the height of his own pleasure again, but he can't. He just sobs harder as he holds onto his master's thighs as he tries so desperately to get more and more of his cock deep inside of him. He needs to have more. 

Tomura moves inside of him, letting him drink until even his saliva can't force the shallow wounds to stay open against the werewolf's healing, and by the time the taste of blood is gone, Dabi is just swallowing so eagerly to make his master feel good as he's used for his pleasure. He takes every thrust and when Shigaraki pushes all the way down his throat and his balls tense, Dabi moans before the first splash of cum rushes over his tongue. He swallows down every drop, the force of this nothing compared to the pulse of blood from an artery, but somehow leaving him feeling just as dizzy and intoxicated. 

Then Shigaraki takes his cock away. His hands leave his body as he checks himself to make sure he's healed, and then he starts to shift to pull his clothes back into place. And Dabi is left, kneeling on the ground, still starving, his mouth and throat aching, his cock raw and sticky in his pants, and... something breaks. He doesn't sob this time. He bites his lip, curling in on himself to make him smaller, trying to disappear because this is wrong. Disgusting. He's so hungry and despite every way Shigaraki has treated him so far and how much he was made to show his desperation, it's still there. He's still desperate to have more. More sex, more blood, neither of which he wants to need the way that he feels himself craving right now. He can't stop it from happening. He's a bad dog. He's bad at being a vampire. He's not going to be able to pretend that he's ever been the one in control and he's going to get Shigaraki, his siblings, himself, all killed—

"Shhh, hey—" Shigaraki's voice is softer than he would have expected it to be, but the wolf has moved away from him. Of course he would. Why would he stay near someone who bought him? He doesn't even understand why Shigaraki is bothering to use him in the limited ways he can when Dabi is so worthless. Not when he could tear through him, take away the door, and try to turn his siblings. At least if they survive, they'll be useful to him. Hands come back against his skin, one on the side of his neck, one coaxing him to look up at him, and Dabi barely manages a weak hiss, sounding more like a distressed kitten than a vicious creature of the night as the noise makes him let out a wracking sob that shakes his whole body. 

"Oh, puppy," Shigaraki's voice is so blatantly pitying that Dabi wants to move to the window. It was afternoon when they started training. He's sure the sun is still out. Burning again would be less painful than this. But Shigaraki doesn't let him go anywhere. His hands move, encased in the cloth gloves he usually wears to bed, and he picks him up from the floor like he weighs nothing at all, holding him close and stroking his hair. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I'm right here." He stands, moving so he can sit up against the headboard of the bed as he keeps Dabi in his lap. But the soft words and gentle touches only make Dabi feel worse as the person he locked in a cell tries to comfort him. Shigaraki shouldn't have ever tried to strike a deal with him, he shouldn't have ever been interested in working with him either. He should have just killed him and gotten himself out of this situation. 

"Come here, firefly," he murmurs, curling a hand around the back of his neck and then guiding his face to his pulse point. "I know it's a lot, come here. You need to eat more, you've barely had anything since before my rut. You can't get better at controlling yourself if you're always starving and binging, sweetheart." His voice is so soothing as he brings Dabi's mouth to his neck. He shakes his head weakly but Tomura keeps him pressed there until the overwhelming sound of his pulse and the iron in his veins makes his mouth water and his fangs lengthen against his sense. He can't help it, nothing more than a feral animal—

Before he can lunge and tear out Shigaraki's throat, the hand around the back of his neck tightens and the wolf guides him to his skin slowly, making his teeth sink in beside his artery instead of letting it gush into his mouth. He whimpers, but Shigaraki strokes his hair with his other hand. "That's it. Slowly, you don't need to rush. I'm right here. Just take little sips and you'll be able to eat until you're full, puppy." 

Dabi can't keep crying if he wants to have as much of this hot blood slipping down his throat as the other man will allow, and he finds his head getting foggy again as Shigaraki keeps petting him, occasionally squeezing the back of his neck to keep him from pulling too hard on his veins or trying to sink his teeth in deeper. And slowly, Dabi finds the rhythm that his master wants him to use. 

"There, just like that. You're doing such a good job, baby boy." He tilts his head so that he can rub his cheek against Dabi's and that turns his insides into a needy puddle. His fingers tangle into Tomura's shirt and he clings to him as he drinks slowly. And he drinks, and drinks, and drinks. Until... he feels full. Dabi hasn't once felt the hunger inside of him truly abate since he woke up like this. Even when he was burning his father to death, his fangs had been out like he would have been able to drink the vaporized blood from the air. He withdraws his fangs, but Tomura keeps him close. "All done, sweetheart?" 

Dabi barely manages a nod against his skin. 

"Okay, now you just have to close the wound, baby." 

He hesitates. He's never had to do that before. He thought that his spit could only keep someone bleeding for him for as long as he needed it to, but he tries to lave his tongue over the wound again. Something about the... viscosity of his spit changes. It thickens the way that it might have if he had been eating a sour candy as a human, not so unpleasantly so that he would compare it to mucus, but definitely thicker than the way it usually feels on his tongue. He licks at Tomura's skin a few times and the bleeding stops, and then the bite gets rough under his tongue. It's only then that the wolf lets him take his mouth away so that he can see the two scabs that have formed there. It takes another few seconds before those heal up too, and the only evidence of his bite is how the wolf's neck is still shiny with his spit. "There, you did such a good job, sweetheart. Now let's go get cleaned up." 

Dabi still feels dazed, drunk almost, as Shigaraki starts by using a tissue to clean up all the blood on his face, lavishing his skin in soft kisses as he does so, over his cheeks, on his forehead, even having him close his eyes so he can press kisses over them too. And when the blood is mostly wiped from his face, he picks Dabi up and carries him into the bathroom. Dabi stays in his arms, his head too heavy and confused to understand what's really happening before he's being sat down on the edge of the tub as Shigaraki leans over to plug the drain and start to fill it.

While the water pours into the basin and starts to fill the bathroom with humidity, the wolf chuffs at him softly, leaning in to rub the sides of their necks together before he coaxes Dabi into lifting his arms so he can take off his shirt, and then makes him shift so he can take away his filthy sweatpants and his underwear as well. Dabi's body goes hot, blood going to his cheeks as he blushes, seeing what a mess that he'd made all over himself before Tomura had deigned to touch him. 

"You look so pretty with my blood bright in your cheeks, puppy." Tomura murmurs, discarding Dabi's clothes and then removing his as well. He puts some soap in the water, the medicated stuff that Dabi always uses to ensure that even with his supernatural abuilities, he's not falling apart from his seams. Then Tomura gets him to step into the tub and he follows him in. He tries to shy away, the weak flicker of thought that goes through him telling him that he should just get cleaned and then get out of the other man's space, but Tomura draws him close. He has him sit between his legs as the other man gets the spray attachment and guides Dabi's head back so that he can wet down his hair without getting the water in his eyes. He takes his time, making sure the water stays just right, before he gets the shampoo and begins to work it very carefully through Dabi's hair now that he's not wearing gloves again. He washes the sweat and oil from his scalp and then he puts his conditioner in before he switches to a soft wash cloth and begins to move that along his skin as well. He doesn't go quickly, always going around his seams slowly and carefully, making sure that not an inch of his skin goes unnoticed. His prick aches when he cleans away the smears of old cum that were clinging to him, but Tomura just shushes him gently before kissing his temple again. Dabi doesn't know if he's ever felt so... small? Taken care of? Since he was turned. The hospital was cold. The training was hard. The blood bag he was thrown once a day always tasted old and stale. The blood from his siblings was always taken cold from the fridge and only in small sips once every few days because he couldn't stand the way that feeding put such a needy heat under his skin. He hasn't ever been full before, hasn't ever been allowed to let someone else's hands move over his skin without inflicting violence, especially not when he was only turned into this so that he could kill. Shigaraki washes all of Dabi's body and then he cleans his own skin and hair before pulling Dabi back against his chest and rubbing soothing circles across the skin that he can reach.

He doesn't say anything, but just being allowed to be close is a luxury that Dabi didn't ever think that he would get, and he tries to keep the water warm with his quirk so that he can stay like this for as long as he can. Tomura chuckles when he must feel only the water around their bodies not going tepid with time, and eventually he pulls the drain to let the soapy water wash away as he rinses out their hair for the second time and makes sure that their bodies are free of suds. He helps Dabi out of the tub and gets their towels, drying off Dabi's body for him and then wrapping him in the fluffy fabric before he does the same for himself. Then he takes him back to the bedroom. It's still light out. Dabi always has an innate sense for the sun now, even when he was being held 24/7 in a windowless facility made to disrupt his senses, he knew when the sun was out. And that must mean it's still very early evening. But Shigaraki still brings him over to the bed. He turns down the sheets and then gets Dabi into it, crawling in alongside him and turning out the light before he pulls him closer. 

He lets Dabi press his ear back to his chest, and the rhythmic breathing and beat of his heart behind his ribs makes some part of him twinge with the idea that his isn't quite right. But a bigger part of him is able to stay where he is and be content because his hands are moving over his skin again. Dabi hasn't... ever had someone else touch him so much, especially not when their intention wasn't to hurt him. He's never had hands holding him, stroking his skin, trying to find any drop of tension as they might appear, and trying to coax them to slip away just as quickly. He doesn't think that he should feel so soothed to have hands as dangerous as Tomura's on his skin, but they keep him feeling soft and distant even as he starts to speak again. 

"You can be such a good boy when you're following orders, baby boy. It makes me so proud when you're being so good." Tomura nuzzles at the top of his head. "It's not your fault that you don't know how to be good without someone telling you how to be. The people who made you didn't want you to be able to function without them. But I'm going to help, sweetheart." Shigaraki sounds so sure. Dabi hasn't felt sure about anything since he burned his father alive and thought that he was about to mix their ashes through that battlefield. "I'm going to teach you how to feed, precious, and how to control your emotions." He promises as he holds him.

Dabi doesn't feel very in control when his seams start to ache again, too swollen from how much he's already cried to let out any more tears, but unable to fight how the words make him want to. "I hurt you." 

Shigaraki's hands stop as they move over his body. For a long moment, Dabi thinks that he broke whatever this strange thing was and that he's going to just be killed or discarded again. It's what he deserves, but Shigaraki just sighs softly. "Yes, you did. And I hurt you. Now we're not going to hurt each other anymore. We're going to find all of the people who put us in these positions in the first place, and we're going to kill them all. Then they won't be able to hurt anyone else. I can be happy with that revenge if you can, precious. We can stop hurting each other and just be okay like this, baby. Don't you think that sounds better?" 

It sounds too good to be true, the way it had when he was told that he could have a life with his siblings after the war. That had been too good to be true and he still had to suffer every day just to hold onto it. He can't imagine that he can have hot, fresh blood, the pleasure of sex, and the softness that Shigaraki is giving him now without some new way of hurting being laid into his skin. He shakes his head weakly, "You're better without me." He would get so much further if he ran. He's strong, smart, and ruthless. He could make it away from here and be long gone before anyone even knows that he's a threat that they should be looking out for. He would have his hand around AFO's throat before he could even wonder what happened to the pet that Dabi was supposed to show off at the celebration. 

"I probably would be." Shigaraki agrees, which does nothing to soothe the pit in Dabi's gut, not that the wolf should even care about that. "But I'm not without you. We're both right here, and until something about that changes, this is how things are going to work. That's alright, isn't it, firefly?" 

Dabi doesn't think that it should be, but he's too confused, too desperate to cling to the other man whose body is so warm and so gentle in how it curls around his own, that he doesn't want to risk losing it by saying something to the contrary, so he just keeps his mouth shut this time. He presses his ear tighter to Tomura's chest like he can deafen the screams of his past and the doubt that is constantly swirling through his mind. Shigaraki's arms tighten around him and he presses a kiss to the top of his head as he lets him stay in this delusion for a little longer. 

///

Putting on a show for All For One was supposed to be the difficult part of this arrangement, but as Tomura spends more time with Dabi outside of the cell neither of them have been near since his rut ended, Tomura is made painfully cognizant of how completely the experiments on the other children also backfired. Being a lone wolf is not a fun experience. Throughout the first three years of being a wolf, he was constantly aching, constantly looking for someone who believed in him, someone who wanted to be near him and share the burden of existence with him. But he never found that connection and he made sure that he wouldn't allow his mind to latch onto any of the vampires around him, by attacking them or otherwise provoking violence whenever he started to feel any kind of misplaced kinship. He kept his instincts under control and that was the most important thing that he could have done for himself because it means that he can function without a pack at all now. It's a fucking miracle that Dabi has survived for this long as he has. He's practically a fledgling even though he's been like this for at least three years, though he has no idea how old Dabi was when he entered the program and was actually successfully turned. But the man doesn't know how to feed himself, clearly hasn't ever allowed himself to actually eat the amount that he should take, and pours the smell of shame and self-loathing through the room whenever he has a flicker of that untamed hunger or lets himself feel an ounce of pleasure. He's possibly the most pathetic creature that he has ever met in his life. 

And Tomura is bewitched. He can't help loathing himself for it a bit too, but Dabi is so constantly confused, afraid, and desperate that he can't really register him as a potential threat anymore, even though he knows logically that the vampire is. He could kill him and spin some sob story about the whole situation to try and test AFO's mercy, or he could decide two out of three siblings isn't a bad number to be free of him. But he can't make himself actually believe that Dabi would think like that when he clings onto him when they sleep together in the bed, when he smells so guilty whenever Tomura starts to explain to him how he needs to talk and act when he's trying to play a docile pet as they practice for the anniversary party. Never in a million years did he think that he would find himself looking at such a pitiful vampire and not using that advantage to go immediately for his throat, but Dabi is so genuine in how horribly he feels just existing, so clearly only bothers to do so at all because he doesn't think his siblings will survive without him, and thinks they do deserve to live, that it's hard for Tomura to hold onto the same resentment as he did with his other captors. Dabi hasn't ever owned another wolf before. He hates that he sunk this low to even consider it, but it was the last thing he could think of that wasn't draining his siblings or risking their lives by eating the humans he hunted instead of turning them in for his quota. It doesn't make any of it right, but Dabi is the only vampire he currenly has access to who believes that genocide and slavery are wrong, and Tomura will get further with one ally than he will on his own. He is worth the effort of training to be that ally for him, especially if he can gather his own strength and live a life of far more luxury than he's had in years while he does so. 

Tomura also can't deny, though it is still a far smaller element than anything else, that he savors how sexually submissive Dabi is. Any act of subservience immediately tests his already threadbare control and has him squirming like a teenager who is always one stiff breeze from a mess in his pants. Tomura teaches him how to hold the leash so that he will look like he is effortlessly in control, but with enough awareness of where Tomura's body is that someone who knows that he's a dangerous pet will see that Dabi is prepared to get him in line again if he tries to buck that control in the slightest. And being made to pretend to be the one in charge while he's all too aware that Tomura is watching and scrutinizing his every move, arouses him unintentionally during their training. But he is trying to learn, blue eyes follow him all day, they cling onto every word that he says and he sees Dabi trying his best to internalize them. He doesn't even think the vampire is really doing it for his own benefit, he's just trying to make him happy because he's paying attention to him. It's incredibly pathetic and Tomura is extremely frustrated with himself when he finds it so... endearing. 

They only have a month left before the party, and he's been training Dabi for the better part of two weeks now. They always start their day with exercise. There is very little in this upper apartment, just the connected living room and kitchen, their now-shared bedroom, the bathroom, the cell, and the gym that was definitely supposed to be a second bedroom, but just has some scattered equipment and the closet is being used for linens. They work out to keep the natural strength that their unnatural physiques have focused and sharper than a vampire who has languished in inactivity since the war and a wolf who has been caged would be able to claim. Then Dabi always rushes to make him breakfast. He had to tell the other man that he could eat just like a human, he just needs more protein, cooked or not, and Dabi had blushed so badly and apologized, his guilt filling the air again as he realized that he still was acting on the ideas about werewolves he had absorbed from the vampires around him. Since then, he's taken every pain to make large meals for him three times a day. It's more food, better food, than he's been given since he was AFO's student and sometimes it makes Tomura so furious that he wants to throw every plate against the wall and shatter the tables. He wants to throw up sometimes when he remembers the way his own flesh smelled as it was cut from his body and cooked, the chatter of Moonfish's dinner guests all around him as he was consumed as entertainment for a party. But when he stands and leaves the room, going anywhere else so that he can just have a little space, Dabi just puts the food away, preparing it on a plate so that it can be reheated if he decides that he can actually stomach it at some point. 

When he comes back, if he even has to step aside to deal with the mess in his head, Dabi is still waiting for him, eager to do whatever he asks. He tells Dabi what they're going to practice for their training, and then he goes and gets the leash. He teaches Dabi the hand signals that most of the more elite vampires use so that they can give their dogs orders without breaking off from a conversation, and Dabi learns those, but he never seems so at ease as he does when Tomura then lets him get on his knees instead and follow along the commands himself. Tomura didn't think that he could see someone doing those things and feel anything other than disgusted, but the way Dabi looks back up at him like he adores him. Like he trusts him so completely with anything that he would choose to do with his body, gives him a rush of satisfaction that he knows could turn deadly. He has wanted to destroy this world, shatter the system, since he was a child. That desire is only stronger now, even if the world itself is so very different from what it was back then. He could take that adoration that Dabi looks at him with and he could use it to hurt him. He thinks that if he pressed on it hard enough, if he made him so dependent on him and so distracted from anything else, he could convince the vampire to kill his siblings himself, just to keep Tomura's approval. 

He doesn't let himself go down that path. Instead he makes Dabi debase himself, humping pillows, his leg, once just making him sit with his legs spread wide and talking to him, words shifting from insults to praise until his pathetic little puppy couldn't stand it anymore and his cock spilled all over his stomach and stained his shirt without even having to be touched. He makes Dabi find his pleasure again and again until it hurts, but he doesn't rush to join him there. Some days the thought of being touched makes his skin itch the way it did before he turned. Sometimes it makes him feel so violent, so ill, that he thinks that the only way he can be free is clutching his head between both hands and crumbling away into nothing. Some days the idea of being wanted the way that Dabi so clearly wants him makes him chuff and pull him closer, pressing him into the mattress, usually tying his hands in place or pinning him to the bed so he can't get free, and then finding his pleasure in Dabi's body as well. And sometimes it is good. He licks the tears off of Dabi's cheeks and tucks his nose into his neck so he can smell, beneath the smoke, that the vampire is so sure of being safe with him, that he's completely surrendered himself to whatever Tomura decides he deserves. Tomura always gives Dabi more than the vampire thinks he deserves. 

And when they're both clean and cozy again, he brings Dabi's head to his neck, his wrists, or his thighs, and he teaches Dabi how to bite gently, the flash of pain so small that it's hardly noticeable, and then he makes him sip slowly until he's full. It takes two weeks of the treatment every single day, but at the start of the third, when Tomura wakes from sleep, he finds that Dabi's eyes are open, that he's still curled up against his chest, his fingers carefully tracing the scars that have twisted so much of Tomura's skin. Usually Dabi sleeps like he really is a corpse, but vampires don't have to sleep. Dabi was just starving for so long his body kept reverting to old patterns in an effort to make him feel better.

He gets up and when he works out, he needs to up the weight to feel anything at all. He stares into the fridge like he doesn't know what the contents inside are, and then he throws away leftovers, makes a list of things that he needs, places an order, and starts on some kind of dough while they wait for that to get here. He keeps looking to him to see if he's allowed to be doing these things and Tomura just waves him on, watching him. Dabi gets the groceries, and when the delivery comes, the buzz goes through the entire house. There's another short pause and then his sister's voice comes through the intercom, 

"We're all in our rooms and the shades are down." She tells him, but Tomura is the one standing and heading towards the door. 

"I can—" 

"You have a well-trained pet now. To the outside world it's my job to serve my master." He goes towards the locked door to the staircase and waits. He can break the lock, but he wants to see—

Dabi doesn't make any attempt to hide the code as he punches it in, letting him turn the handle and see the far more brightly lit and airy lower floor, even with the sunshades down. Tomura goes and gets the box from a delivery person. A vampire in UV-blocking coveralls who is doing this kind of menial job, likely in service to a sire who doesn't give a shit about having anything other than a little worker bee, still curls his lip in disgust when he sees a wolf answering the door. He is given the bags though and once he's shut and locked the door again, he turns to head back upstairs. 

"Toya—" The woman's voice who he's heard on the intercoms comes closer and he sees her emerge from further down the hall than he's ever ventured. She is probably three years older than Dabi, but he's not sure if she was before he stopped aging. Her hair is white with little red streaks in it and she wears glasses and a modest sweater. "Oh... you must be..." She winces as she considers how she should address someone like him. 

"My name is Tomura Shigaraki." 

"Oh, it's nice to meet you, I'm Fuyumi Todoroki." She tries to give him a smile and Tomura wonders if all of Dabi's siblings but the brother he's briefly seen before so clearly take after their mother, at least in appearance. "Can I— do you know if everything is alright with Toya? This is... longer than he usually goes without coming down to see us." 

Tomura knows that shouldn't make his hackles rise. Dabi is only doing any of this so that his... pack can live. But there is some petty, angry, jealous thing inside of him that snarls at the thought of his ma— He barely escapes closing his hands around the thick paper bags and destroying the contents inside as he stops that train of thought in its place before it can take hold. 

"Dabi has a work commitment later this month." He tells her flatly. "He's been getting ready for that. I'll tell him you were concerned." 

She flinches at his tone and he starts to make his way back up the stairs as quickly as he can without making it look like he's fleeing. "Oh, no— I don't mean— don't distract him—" 

He makes it through the door and lets it shut behind him, hearing the sound of a vacuum going in the living area that was hidden behind the soundproof door a moment before. Tomura takes a deep breath before he even realizes what he's doing, and when he does, he knows that he was trying to take in the tangled smells of them to make his head feel a little less crowded than it does right now. And then he goes into the living room. Dabi doesn't have much to vacuum between here and the bedroom, and as he finishes doing that, Tomura... puts the groceries away. He has avoided doing any acts of service that were not intentional parts of their training or when he was trying to get Dabi to actually be acclimated to being a vampire the way his sire left him to figure out himself. He doesn't want to have to pretend to be smaller the way that he's been forced to for the past six years. But... this doesn't make him feel small as he finishes with that and then goes into the bedroom. The sheets and covers are soaked with the smell of them, which he likes, but it's a sour smell from old cum, sweat, and stray droplets of blood that they haven't bothered to worry about, just shoving the dirty layers to a pile at the foot of the bed and sharing heat between their bodies. He gathers up the layers, separates them so he won't overload the drum, and then takes them to the washer in the gym before he comes back. Dabi is in the kitchen again, heavily salting some pork belly before he puts it in the air fryer and then turns his attention back to the dough to punch it down and give it a few kneads. 

Tomura picks up the laptop that he's been using to get up-to-date on all of the things that have been going on out of his earshot and sight since he's been locked up and he finds out what ecommerce storefronts are still in existence right now as he orders them two new accessories that he thinks will help to make this training more believable. Dabi cooks when there aren't things that need to be left to sit, but over the course of the next hour, he changes out loads of laundry, gets the massive pile of soiled clothes and organizes that into loads as well, washes the kitchen floor, and then dusts the living room. He occasionally pauses in front of Tomura, automatically checking that he doesn't need to rush any faster, that he's not ignoring something that he might want him to be doing while he's putting their space in order, and Tomura keeps waving him off. It's a good thing that Dabi is finally so aware and able to conceptualize how he wants to exist in this space. It means that he's actually starting to come out of survival mode. Which means that Tomura... has actually helped him. He's filled in for a sire and helped Dabi figure out how to exist again. 

He doesn't know if he wants the warmth that tries to bloom in his chest, but he keeps having it create little spikes behind his ribs as he watches Dabi get the apartment in order. By the time he's finished cooking, there is a massive spread of food across the kitchen table. Hot rolls with fresh butter and jam, a frittata that is stuffed with vegetables and crispy, succulent bites of the pork belly, a plate of breakfast sausages, another with homemade hashbrown patties. It's a far more western-style meal than he's ever presented Tomura with before, but he wonders if that's because making traditional Japanese foods are things that he can do on autopilot, but these kinds of recipes are less familiar and need more of his focus than others. Regardless, it's entirely too much food and as Tomura sits to eat what he can, Dabi takes out two large tupperware containers from the cabinets and starts to put the rest away. He doesn't have to eat human food if he doesn't want to, and the only thing that he seems to decide that he wants is a single buttered roll which he eats very slowly as he stares at the big containers of leftovers that he hasn't taken to the fridge yet. 

Tomura waits for him to say something, or to do anything else, as he finishes eating, the late breakfast not only tasting good but... making his wolf quiet and settle for the first time in a while. He has been on edge for so long now. But this kind of... domesticity rings through him as right. Dabi isn't an omega, but there is so much about him that reminds Tomura of one, and seeing his omega no longer so stressed out that he can't think about anything but clinging to him for safety, and instead making their den comfortable, lavishing over the food that he prepares for them, all of that brings his wolf contentment like that of a... pack. He tries to shake it. 

"You should put that away." He instructs gruffly, picking up his plate and not daring to tell the other man how good any of it really was. 

Dabi doesn't say anything for a second, but then he barely says loudly enough for Tomura to hear it. "I... used to cook for my siblings. When we were little. At the start of all of this. I... don't think I have in a long time." Tomura wouldn't be surprised if it's been years since then. Since Dabi's instincts picked up on the fact they could fend for themselves while he was still starving all the time. He's lucky he just withdrew and didn't actually attack any of them. 

"Your sister said that it's been a while since you've gone downstairs." He doesn't interject anything else about that. He knows it's been a while because for the past month, at least, Dabi hadn't been more than a door away from him. 

Dabi looks at him, his expression drawn, his scent sour and guilty again for the first time today, and then his eyes drop back down to his lap. 

Tomura takes a slow breath. There is a part of him, a huge part— the part that he knows that he will feed someday and let it sink its jaws as deeply as it can into the flesh of this world and swallow its beating heart if he can get to it— that just wants to spite Dabi. He is training him and giving him the attention that he never got from a sire simply because it means that Dabi will be a better ally for him in the future. If he can make Dabi useful, then he will have a much better chance of tearing down this world at its foundations and ensuring that his teacher is not going to be able to skitter away like a cockroach again. He doesn't need to be kind to Dabi outside of aftercare and feeding him, because those are the only things a sire would have done. But another part of him... knows that he's not the person that he needs to be punishing. Dabi only ever got to this point because he was starving, desperate, and didn't think he had any other options. He didn't set up this world and hates that he's trapped in it if he wants to keep his siblings alive. He has done his best to keep the suffering that he is responsible for to the absolute smallest fraction that he can. Three people a month for his siblings to live. Feeding once or twice a month before he took over the vampire's meals because he couldn't stand how good it felt getting to eat anything at all. Dabi is the most miserable vampire he has ever met in his life, and he wants to destroy the world for how it's destroyed him and how it keeps finding ways of discarding and using other people in it. He hasn't once tried to slip out from Tomura's control, contain him, or otherwise order him around or hurt him since he broke out of the cell. He always just looks to him to know what he should be doing, what is and isn't okay and he completely trusts Tomura to know what that is because he knows that he is the one who has been hurt far worse than he has through this system.

"...Do you not want to go down and give it to them?" He asks finally. It only takes Dabi a few seconds to shake his head weakly. "Why not?" 

He sees his fingers tighten into fists against his lap, smells the first whiff of blood, and knows that no matter where he thought this conversation might be going, it's definitely taking a direction that is putting Dabi on the verge of tears. "...I'm... mad at them." He doesn't say anything for another second, but that admission seems to break something free in his chest. "It's not their fault—" the sob comes hard and rough, the kind of deep, wracking sobs that Tomura became so familiar with at the very beginning of giving him regular meals as his body flooded him with all the stress that it finally thought it could actually feel without it shutting him down even further and Tomura chuffs at him automatically, moving to pull Dabi off of his chair and into his lap, letting him curl into his side and cling to his shirt as he hides his face against his chest. "I— I could have been done! I could have been free— I didn't care about anything else and then— then—!" 

Then his teacher saw a potentially valuable asset thinking of dying and he brought his mother, who Dabi might have seen, unconsciously, as a potential psuedo-sire because of their familial relationship and he'd killed her right in front of him. He'd made Dabi's mind even more desperate for connection, and then he'd given him three potential fledglings instead and made his new instincts fumble out for reassurance and connection that he would never be able to get with them, linked their lives with his subservience in this system, that he hadn't wanted any stakes in in the first place, and Dabi had been trapped again, had to offer himself to be used up again, and now that he's not in survival mode anymore, he's starting to notice and feel that. He doesn't want to resent them. It's not their fault that they are human, but no one is allowed to make more vampires right now when their population is so skewed and that means the only way for them to live is if Dabi stays serving AFO until they die of natural causes or his former teacher finds an excuse to punish him and take them away instead. It's all horrible, complicated, and there are no good answers for it right now. 

Tomura holds onto him a little tighter, tucks his nose against his throat and breathes in the smell of smoke. That has never been a grounding scent before, but he needs something sharp enough to cut through the mess that his own mind is turning into as he lets Dabi cry in his lap. 

It's complicated and there are no easy answers right now. 

It takes a long time, but eventually Dabi goes quiet and Tomura picks him up and carries him over to the couch, their bed still deconstructed and in the wash. "Sit right here, puppy." He instructs, picking up the collar from the coffee table and putting it on the other man to keep his head where he wants it. "I'm going to go bring that food downstairs and when I come back up, you're going to show me a few of your tricks. Then you can eat, alright, baby?" 

Dabi sniffles, looking up at him like he's the only thing in the world that still makes sense, and gives him a soft yip. Tomura wonders if he's getting better at that from practice or... if it's because he's been listening and learning that from him as well. 

He gets the containers and goes to the stairs, opening the door and going down into the main area. With such an open floorplan, he can immediately see all three of the siblings, Fuyumi, Natsuo, and the third with half-white, half-red hair who looks to be the youngest. The brother he tried to kill looks less than thrilled to see him, but Tomura ignores that and moves to put the containers on the island for them. 

"Dabi cooked." 

"Oh, thank you for bringing this—" 

"Is everything alright?" The youngest sibling asks, his voice more subdued and his mismatched eyes sharper on him as he tries to turn to go back upstairs with as little fanfare as possible. 

"Shigaraki," Fuyumi uses an honorific at the end of his name that Tomura hasn't had used in years and before he can snort at her trying to be polite, even knowing what his actual position in this world is, Natsuo is the one scoffing and rolling his eyes. "Said that Toya has work to do. Please let him know that we miss him and would be happy to see him when he has time. But that we don't want to distract him from his work." 

"'Work'," Natsuo mumbles sarcastically as he turns his attention back to whatever book he was leaning over before he came downstairs. 

Tomura doesn't mean to bare his teeth and growl at him for that comment but the sound gets all of their attention back on him, the three human's heartbeats starting to beat faster, the smell of fear starting to sour the air. But not enough for Natsuo to not make eye-contact with him again and snap back. 

"What? Like we're supposed to buy that going to parties, fucking some stranger, and galavanting all around the country are supposed to qualify as 'work'." 

Tomura doesn't go for his throat, but he does the next best thing., His ears pin back and he lets his fangs lengthen, his eyes glow, and lets the fur of his tail stand on end, a growl in every syllable as he speaks. "In his position, yes. That is the work that he has to do to keep you alive. Be grateful he bothers— a lesser vampire wouldn't have, they would have just let you be slaughtered like your mother." 

He doesn't need to attack any of them physically, those words lash into them well enough and make the younger sibling and Fuyumi flinch back. Natuso Todoroki looks a lot like Endeavor when his face twists from shock back to fury, as he jumps up from the couch like he expects to be able to actually stand up to him. "Fuck you! What else does he have you trained to do besides suck his dick? Are all werewolves this loyal or just the fucking stupid ones who haven't caught on that they're fucking expendable? You're not any better off than us and we didn't ask for Toya to keep us in here like zoo animals for the rest of our lives!" 

Tomura moves quickly, his hand around Natsuo's throat and his breath hot in the other man's face as he barely restrains himself from dropping his fifth finger. "You have no idea what it takes for him to keep you here. But if you don't want this life— if you don't want to live in captivity, then walk out the front door. Then it can be your responsibility if you live or die. Or better yet— if you can't stand being as small and helpless as you feel right now, do Dabi a favor and kill yourself. At least then he'll know he did everything that he could to shoulder the burden you've been on him for the past three years and he won't be left wondering what happened to you when you disappear. Because make no mistake: If he weren't actively trying to keep you alive, you would be dead. If you take a step outside of this house, you will die painfully. You don't have a future or a life that he doesn't sacrifice to bring you. If that's not enough then have the decency to cut him loose and turn yourself into the kind of dead weight that he can actually get rid of." 

Tomura pushes Natsuo away from him, using enough strength that he stumbles and falls against one of the cushions before he turns and heads back upstairs without another word. 

He is still fuming when he makes it back into the living room, but as soon as he steps inside, Dabi yips at him again, perking up and looking at him with those bright blue eyes. Tomura never thought that he would be able to be... tired instead of hateful. His hate, his rage, that's what his teacher used to train his quirk stronger. It's what he's held onto for so long so that he knew that he would be able to destroy this world as soon as he managed to get free. But he can't be angry here anymore. Not with Dabi. He's the only thing that has been giving him even an ounce of contentment because, at least in this part of the house, he doesn't have to be anything that he doesn't want to be. Dabi isn't going to make him. Here he... can just exist. He wants to do that with Dabi for a little while. He wants to rest. He's been fighting every day for six years straight. He's going to be fighting again soon. He has earned the reprieve. 

"Come here, puppy." He sits down on the couch and gathers Dabi into his arms, hugging him to his body with hands that seem too gentle to belong to him. Dabi's brows pull together, but he knows better than to question his instructions when he has the collar on and is playing his puppy. His omega. He doesn't need him to prove his obedience today. He's been doing it readily for the past month. He just wants Dabi to know he's going to keep taking care of him while he can. Until they figure out a way to get his siblings out of Japan and then they can destroy this world. 

He strokes the back of his knuckles over Dabi's cheek. He's never asked him how he got his scars, but Dabi hasn't asked how he got his either. Better like that. He has a feeling that it would dredge up things on both sides that would fracture this fragile thing that Tomura is trying to learn to hold onto without making it crumble. So he just presses a soft kiss to the edge of Dabi's lips instead, "You have lovely eyes." 

They widen when he says that. But Dabi doesn't have a heartbeat, so Tomura can't tell if it does something as cheesy as skip. He just guides him to his throat instead and does feel how Dabi always lets out a soft pant against his skin as his need goes through him. And then his lips press over his pulse in the same kind of soft kiss as Tomura just gave him before he opens his mouth and slips his teeth into his skin, not even a twinge of pain touching his nerves as he starts to suck so gently at his veins. Tomura holds him close the whole time, petting along his spine as he drinks, and when he's finished, he stays holding him for a while longer on the couch before he helps Dabi finish cleaning their space. 

///

When the day of the anniversary comes around Dabi feels... differently than he thought he would. He feels very differently than he ever thought that he could since he was turned. It's hard to put into words, but the world feels sharper now. He's had sharper senses since he turned, but now it feels like his brain is constantly overwhelmed by all of that extra input that he was having to deal with before. He can focus on it, discard what he doesn't need, and it doesn't feel like just existing at times is putting sandpaper against his skin. Not only do his senses clear, but a fog that seemed to have been constantly wrapped around his mind since he killed his father, lifts. He used to wonder how he lost that determination and focus, if it was just because he had completed his purpose and knew that he wasn't ever supposed to live past that, but he doesn't quite think that's the reason behind the sensation anymore. He was hungry, he was without purpose, now Tomura keeps him fed and the only thing he has to work towards is finding a way to get his siblings out of Japan so that they can declare a new war on this world that AFO made. And Tomura. It's hard to try and keep it in his mind that Tomura is just here because this is the best place he could be to start his war. That, if he could choose anywhere else in the world, he probably wouldn't be here. If he could have any other person warming his bed, he would want them instead. That he would probably want an omega who could make him knot outside of his rut the way that Dabi's body can't, even if he's not cold like a regular vampire. He wouldn't have ever chosen to have a vampire at all if he'd gotten his pick of anyone else. But it's so hard to remember that all of the time because Tomura is so sweet to him. He still says nasty things to him, but it's almost always when they're in bed together, when he can see how being talked to makes his cock drip just as much as it does when he tells him how cute he finds it that his prick can spill even without being touched if he just keeps talking. He is always gentle when he pulls him close, never once slipping with his deadly quirk, and he encourages Dabi to drink his fill every day. Dabi doesn't know if he should think it, knows that everything that led them to meeting was horrible, but he is so glad that it was Tomura who he saw first. He had been desperate to get in and out as quickly as possible so he wouldn't have to pretend to be unfazed by what was happening in that building. Tomura was chance, a stroke of divine luck, an impossibility, and yet he's here and Dabi doesn't want anything else in the world but to prove how grateful for that he is. 

"Master?" 

Tomura didn't ask him to call him that, but when he does, when Tomura smells anxious or angry when he's been sitting quietly and staring off into space, instead of startling or growling at him, he usually takes a breath and he's able to settle that smell and turn back to him, calm and ready to decide if he needs Dabi to be a person or a pet. Dabi uses that title for him a lot when they're in bed together, but right now Tomura isn't staring off into space and they're not fucking, so he looks confused when he turns his attention back to him. Most of the wolves that he saw at the last party had been naked, but there will be a televised portion of this event, broadcast so that the rest of the world can see how this new world order has taken shape since they successfully scared away any foreign powers from interfering. Even so, the wolves who won't be there in their full animal garb are expected to wear something to cover their genitals, but nothing else, and the optional examples that had been offered were essentially wraps and loin cloths. They figured they could get away with some dark blue silk pants that match the pocket square that he has tucked into his suit. Silk pants to crawl around on the floor in and ruin. Dabi can't help the bitter flicker of hatred that goes through him at the idea of that opulence and wastefulness.

"Is the cage already uncomfortable, firefly?" Tomura asks, moving into his space. Dabi's face heats with the blood he's stolen from the wolf's veins and he shakes his head weakly. The cock cages, one for each of them, have dual purposes. His is to keep him tight and not embarrassing himself when he still struggles not to find it stupidly arousing to walk Tomura around on a leash when he knows that the wolf can and will pull him down and fuck him hard the second he's finished pretending to play nice. And for Tomura, it will make it look like Dabi isn't interested in sex with his dog. Just because most vampires don't care, doesn't mean that everyone of them wants to do that. He can be the exception if they have to stay for more of the afterparty and Tomura needs to remove his clothes. 

"I... I'm going to make sure this works." He promises. "And I'll be here, I'll do whatever I can to help you get your revenge and fix what I did to make this all happen. I don't care what it takes. I'll hold AFO down in broad daylight if that's what it takes for you to be able to rip his head off his shoulders." He can't tell him the thing that has been lurking around in the back of his mind since it started to clear. He doesn't have any right to put those kinds of feelings on the wolf when the truth of all of this is that Dabi still owns him. Even if he hasn't given Tomura an order that wasn't acting since the end of his rut, there's nowhere else in the world the other man could go that wouldn't risk him being captured and put right back into this situation, or worse. No matter how much power Dabi gives him now, he still doesn't know if he'll ever be able to believe that Tomura would ever choose to be here instead if none of those factors were at play. But they all are, so he can't tell Tomura how there's an ache in his chest that hurts more than the moment his heart stopped beating. He thinks that he might be helplessly in love with him, but those feelings are selfish and covered in thorns so he locks them up behind his ribs and offers Tomura these ones instead. 

He doesn't think he's done a good job of disguising their meaning because Tomura steps into his space. He has custom blue leather gloves on to keep his quirk at bay for the ceremony and he reaches for him, those hands cupping his face, his thumbs running along his cheeks, eyes searching his before he tilts his head and presses their lips together. Dabi stays very, very still. He doesn't even breathe. Tomura hasn't told him much about the places he was before this, but, he suspects through AFO, people have found out that Dabi is Tomura's new owner. And they wanted to tell him horror stories of how the mutt misbehaved all the time. How his second owner had even used his quirk, mind control triggered with a kiss, to keep him docile, but that still hadn't worked. Dabi hadn't ever wondered why Tomura was so reluctant to press their lips together no matter how intimate they became. Even now, he can hear the way that the wolf's heart speeds up with his panic as he tries to do this. Dabi starts to pull away. The entire point of saying anything was so he could find a way to let some of the feelings out, to ensure that Tomura knows why he is doing this, but to do it in a way that wouldn't hurt him. 

Tomura curls his hand around the back of his neck to hold him in place, the barest prickle of his claws against his skin through the leather, and he pulls back a fraction so he can take a slow, deep breath. Then he presses back in. It's not the ghost of contact that he's given him before. This is the kind of hungry, deep kiss that he'd given him only when he had been out of his mind during his rut. He plunges his tongue into Dabi's mouth with no fear of his sharp teeth, holds him tight and angles his head like he can make this kiss so good that it can wipe away the memory of every bad one that he's ever had before it. Dabi doesn't know if he can, but he will be more than happy to be the receptacle for him to try. He kisses back, messy and uncoordinated because Tomura has taught him every way he can make his body feel good with someone else. 

He doesn't need to breathe, so he keeps kissing him, clings to him for as long as he's allowed to, but eventually, Tomura does make him stop, gently guiding him away. He looks him in the eyes again, his own glowing. "We'll get your siblings out, and then we'll burn it all to the ground. People won't be able to tell what is ash or dust by the time we're finished with this world. And when none of that is left— then we can decide what we want to do next." Dabi wonders if anyone else in the world would be able to hear those words and not just think that they mean that they might choose to have a future. Dabi had been planning on dying for his revenge since he woke up. He planned on it again as soon as his siblings were gone. He thought that Tomura might get rid of him at the end of this. Or, he thinks, he had thought that Tomura was too much like him, and he hadn't planned on having an after until just now either. 

"Yes, master," he says softly, still a little breathlessly as his chest tightens further. 

Tomura gives him another kiss. It's softer, chaste again, but not stiff. Just short because they need to go downstairs to wait for the car. 

Dabi straightens his spine the way that Tomura taught him and then picks up the matching leather leash and the chain and leather collar so that he can loop it around his puppy's neck. Tomura lets him and then waits. Dabi gestures so that he will heel, his grip firm on the leash in two places. The werewolf moves into the position, staying on his feet so he doesn't arrive at the event already filthy, and he's the one who says, 

"Good boy," Before they start to head towards the door. 

They make it halfway downstairs before Dabi spots Natsuo, Shoto, and Fuyumi hanging around. The event, of course, is at night, and between the darkness outside and the sun shades being down, it's impossible for anyone to see inside of the building right now. 

"...You look nice, Toya." Shoto is the most understated of his siblings, but to be fair, Dabi doesn't know Shoto at all. They were strangers as children, and in the three and a half years since their reunion, Dabi has barely spoken to him. He always just made sure they didn't need anything for the house before hiding away upstairs again. Natsuo and Fuyumi have always been more vocal with him, but right now his first brother is glaring at Tomura like he can kill him with a look alone, and Fuyumi is radiating the smell of terror and stress as she lightly interposes herself between them as Dabi tries to figure out how his brother went from mortified, which is what Dabi is definitely feeling as he stands here with Shigaraki on a leash after the first time they were all in a room together it was when he and his lover were post-coitus, to clearly pissed. 

Natsuo, though, after a small touch against his arm from Fuyumi lets out a huff of a breath before he turns his attention to him instead. "Thanks for looking after us. Sorry you've got to go to these parties and put on a show or whatever." 

Dabi blinks. His siblings have always seemed... grateful enough, he thinks. Maybe? Maybe he was never looking for ‘grateful’. Maybe he wasn't paying much more attention than simply knowing that they were alive and thinking that that was good enough. He doesn't know quite what to say, but he knows that Tomura is doing a bad job of being an obedient dog when he puts his hand against the small of his back before he starts to guide him forward. 

"Come on, we need to get out to the car." 

Natsuo sneers at him, but Shoto and Fuyumi seem to let go of the breath that their holding and Dabi is spurred into saying something so he doesn't leave his brother's words hanging in the air. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure you don't lose anything else." And because that feels too big, too sincere, he ducks his eyes away from any of them, holds the leash a little tighter and starts to 'lead' Shigaraki out. "We'll be home very late." It's already past eleven, but given how long these broadcasts usually last, he won't be surprised if they're not back until nearly dawn. 

"Good luck." Shoto tells them. 

"Have fun." He wonders if his sister will ever lose her optimism and then considers how horrible that would make her existence and hopes that it never happens. 

The car that arrives is nice with a large back seat and a solid divider between the front and back. They get in and Shigaraki makes a show like he's been trained to assess the comfort of the vehicle and then he closes the divider. Dabi climbs in after him and when they're both settled and the door is shut, the car begins to trundle down the mountain again. He doesn't pull on the leash, but it is nice when Tomura automatically moves closer to him, resettling so that his head is pillowed in Dabi's lap. He is glad that it looks like he's just petting his dog, because getting to run his hand along Tomura's scalp and through the long, soft hair that he always loves to touch, helps to further sooth the anxiety that had been building and building since they woke today. 

///

Dabi remembers vividly why he never went to these parties in the first place. He had to attend the very first one. He barely remembers it, having only just been freshly released from the treatments that forced him to stay alive past the war, and his house still in the middle of construction. He was frantic then because he needed to make modifications because he was supposed to be living there alone, was designing it entirely because they wouldn't let him die, so he thought a big glass house where he could lock the doors and then burn inside would make at least a statement, if not make it more difficult if anyone noticed the fire and came to try to get him out of it. And then AFO had shown him his siblings and he was needing to remodel it so that he could make sure they had their space and he could be hidden away and not have to be surrounded by the memories of his past constantly. He wasn't sure that he would be able to survive that then, and he knows now that it was the right call.

But the party itself has only gotten more lavish and extravagant since the last time he attended. The first time this was only a show of power. AFO made a big thing about teleporting in himself and other 'war heroes', showcasing some of his inner circle and Dabi's contemporaries, showing off that he could get to any country, any government, anyone who decided to make the mistake of opposing his rule in Japan if they ever tried to come for them. It had been an effective scare tactic and no one has, to his knowledge, actually tried to organize an attack. So long as their atrocities stay contained within their borders, other people do not come here and cause issues. 

This ceremony starts with an elaborate parade of some of those same old troops and then, sickeningly, a show of strength in the form of Dr. Ujiko's new werewolf abominations. Werewolves, when they fully transform, are supposed to look like normal wolves, a little larger than them, their coats often reflecting the color of their human form's hair, but normal wolves for the most part. He has done something to them to make them even larger, snarling, hulking bipedal monsters who seem to have no knowledge or awareness in their eyes as they are led down the walkway with meat on a stick that they follow blindly. He holds onto Shigaraki's leash a little tighter, unhappy to be not on center stage this time, but to still have been seated on camera behind it, rather than any of the other less public sections. AFO wants him to be an example of how his new system works and the people who have integrated into it. Of course he can't hide away from sight. 

Shigaraki is seated at his feet, kneeling with his ears perked up, listening to everything, eyes sharp as he takes things around him in as well. He knows that this is the best chance he has to gather information about what troops are still under his former teacher's command and that knowledge will serve them well in planning their war. He doesn't lean his body closer to his, doesn't dare offer him even the acknowledgement that Dabi is starting to smell thinly stressed even though he knows that he needs to hide that. He just sits and observes and Dabi uses the weight of the leash in his hands to ground himself as he does so. 

Once the entrances are finished, the speeches start. The different heads of 'departments' in their new 'government'. It's all a show. Maybe those things exist, maybe AFO is pretending to pass laws to make all of the things that he is doing legal, but there are no courts, no cops, no arbiters of the law in this new Japan. AFO alone decides when and if he thinks someone deserves freedom or death and he sends one of his goons out to see it done. There is no due process in this world, but he supposes providing the illusion that he is creating real systems that work, as he shows a video that highlights the 'progress' that has been made throughout the country in the past three years. He starts with images of the post-apocalyptic wasteland that had been left after the fighting stopped, the slums that wolves and humans tried to hide in to avoid the culling, and when he starts to show glimpses of the new metropolitan areas that have been rebuilt and made to showcase how grand their new system is, it carefully avoids showing that all of those places still exist. He hates seeing it, but after the video and a few more speeches, the broadcast finally ends and they're allowed to leave their seats as a dedicated army of staff start to file in and go about turning the area into a party. Dabi hopes he won't be expected to stay for the entire thing, because he is bored by the first person who comes over to talk to him. 

Too many of the vampires who do over the course of the next hour are just looking to find out what he has been doing in the aftermath of the war. So many of his contemporaries, the other children who were in the hospital with him, have found other ways of using their quirks, or have different assignments. More of them, he finds, are also responsible for looking for any refugees. Quirk breeding has gotten worse among the surviving and hiding humans, a desperation to have a child that has a quirk powerful enough to rival AFO a fringe, but fervent belief that is starting to spread through the survivors. It's all disturbing in its own right, but he makes himself have polite conversation with them, careful as he tries to get whatever information that he can out of them without causing any obvious suspicion as he does his best to make it just seem like he's coming out of his self-imposed isolation a bit more. It's hard to remember to not reach down and pet Tomura whenever he sees one of his ears flick as he tries his best to both listen and to not become visibly perturbed by any of the information that they're hearing. They're going to have to have a long conversation, probably several of them, when they get home, but for now, it's just about keeping up appearances. 

Dabi hopes he doesn't tense too visibly when he sees All For One himself starting to make his way in his direction. Shigaraki starts to growl which startles him and Dabi looks down at him, seeing that his tail is standing on end, his teeth bared, and the tips of his claws are starting to push out and strain the seams of his gloves. He immediately gives his leash a hard tug, panic racing through him. He knows how hard this will be for Tomura, but it's not time yet and he has to behave himself. 

"Bad dog. Heel." 

Tomura growls at him lowly, but then he shifts closer, sitting back on his heels, half behind Dabi's legs. Like he really isn't anything but a sulking dog and Dabi realizes that this must have been a calculated slip, at least to some degree. Even so, it becomes even harder for him to stand up straight and look All For One in the eye knowing how long he'd been planning this coup in the first place and how completely he will destroy someone he promised the world to if they stop functioning the way that he wants them to. 

"I see that you are still working on obedience." All For One says jovially as he stops in front of them. 

"He's been well-behaved so far," Dabi tells him, trying to sound more genuinely perplexed. "He hasn't so much as yipped all night. I don't know why he would get so aggressive out of nowhere." He shouldn't know that AFO was Tomura's teacher, that they have any relationship at all because he shouldn't have ever been treating his pet like he was anything but an animal. Not someone that he would have conversations with. 

"That is strange," AFO is still smiling, the expression so wrong and disjointed from how that emotion is supposed to look on a face that Dabi doesn't know how anyone wouldn't feel like they were in as much danger of becoming the next thing he destroys as Dabi knows he is right now. "But from what I've seen otherwise, you've done an admirable job of taming such a wild beast. I'm surprised you have even let him out of his quirk collar." 

"It was difficult to do, but I keep the gloves on him all of the time unless I want him to use it," They practiced for this. They practiced all of it, and even though most of those sessions ended with Dabi so warm he needed his puppy's attention, none of that is here now. All he is are his fear-bright nerves that tell him if he fucks up here, he will lose everything, he will make Tomura lose everything, and he cannot let that happen. "It's very useful for cleaning up messes, and I've been thinking that it and his nose will have practical applications in the field as well when I go back to hunting." 

The smile on AFO's face widens. "Yes, I imagine it will be so long as you're sure you can keep him in line. I look forward to seeing the nine humans you're able to find to fill your quota and meet your backlog next month, Mr. Todoroki." 

Dabi has been focusing very hard on keeping his poker face up, but those words put a pit in his gut that he can't hide. Nine? He wants to argue, wants to say that the other man told him that he would get a reprieve— but he knows, Tomura had told him again and again, anything he did would never be good enough to get the older vampire to fully leave him alone. He would never be satisfied. He would only make a show of contentment and then move his goal posts to a different spot so that he could be sure that Dabi would always be on the hook for more until he was finally burned out and useless. 

Don't let him see him waver. He adores getting to dole out mercy. Show him that he doesn't need it. "Of course, thank you for allowing me the time to train my new pet into an asset." 

"It was the least I could do after you chose to take on one with such an extensive and difficult pedigree. I hope he can serve you better than his former masters." 

Tomura growls again, a low, soft sound that comes from deep in his chest, though he tries to smother it. If anything AFO just seems more pleased as Dabi snaps at him again, 

"Bad dog!" He hates to do it, but he knows what he has to so they can maintain their appearances. He turns swiftly and slaps Tomura across the face and the wolf yips and quiets. 

"Well you've certainly made significant progress, I look forward to seeing how much more can be done along this path. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Todoroki, and give my regards to your kin." 

Dabi turns his attention back to AFO giving a short bow, "Of course, thank you for the opportunity to integrate myself more into the world as it is now." 

The monster continues to smile placidly as he goes into the crowd to circle his next victim and Dabi is left with panic still shaky in his gut and his palm stinging as he shifts his grip on Tomura's leash and starts to lead him through the crowd. There are servers walking around and he needs about a dozen drinks. 

///

Tomura has settled at his side again an hour after AFO has left them be and Dabi is just waiting for a few more people to filter out who have decided to leave early. He doesn't want to be the first, or noticeably the second, he just wants his departure to be unworthy of much scrutiny at all. They are off to the edge of the gathering, having found one of the tables that have been set up and taking a seat so that they can wait out the timer. He has mostly just been trying to take in any particular people they could kill to make AFO's infrastructure crumble more quickly, when he spots a vampire with wild brown hair and a fine suit. That isn't the thing that is particularly noticeable. No, it's the fact he has a werewolf on his arm. Not on a leash, not wearing the scraps of clothing that the others are, no collar in sight. He's standing on his own two feet, holding the vampire's arm in a suit of his own, and when people talk to the vampire, he talks back, even when it's clear that it pisses off the people who approach them. Dabi sees that and, as if pulled by a string, starts to stand from the table. Tomura glances up at him, but shifts to crawl with him as he tries to get as close to those two as he can without actively engaging in conversation with either of the strangers yet. 

"—to my mate in that tone again and I will tear your heart out and give it to him as a gift." The vampire smiles as he says it, but the threat of violence in it is more real and genuine than the frighteningly empty smiles of All For One. 

"'Mate'," another vampire sneers back, lip curling over her teeth. "You can't be serious. That's a dog. Good for a flea-ridden romp, and not something that should ever be touted as a partner. Honestly, it's gauche at best. It's disrespectful, even, to have an animal walking around like that when so many wild wolves have been causing issues among the guests here and their assets—" 

The brown-haired vampire makes good on his word. His hand plunges into her chest and he tears out her unbeating heart and he offers it to the wolf beside him. "No thank you. I don't want to get my suit dirty." 

The woman's body drops to the floor, dead until someone puts the heart back into her chest, but not dead in any way that matters to a vampire. People whisper and when a server comes over to start to move the body out of the way, the vampire drops the heart into their hands before taking off his soiled gloves. 

"Make sure she doesn't get that back until my partner and I have gone." 

"Yes, sir." The other server gets another to help with the body and the woman is carried off. The people flocking over to say their piece to the man turn to find other avenues of entertainment, though all of those seem to be whispering and glaring at him as he and his partner go to get drinks of their own. Dabi watches, that ache even sharper in his chest as that vampire presses a kiss to the wolf's cheek, and in return, the wolf catches his chin between his fingers and he pulls the other man into a soft kiss. He doesn't mean to, but he starts to walk. Tomura hesitates, but after a second, he falls in step beside him, and before long, he realizes that he's standing in front of them before they can move elsewhere in the party. 

Dabi's throat is dry, his mind barely stringing together a coherent thought, but he at least can keep his wits about him enough to say, "Isn't that going to cause trouble— the heart, I mean," Before he does anything else that might offend either of the men. They both look to be in their mid-thirties, but that doesn't mean anything for vampires. Unless they're turned after their prime, their bodies often continue to mature out of adolescence and into their peak physical condition before their aging process stops. It will take another few years for him to be certain, but Dabi isn't sure if he's going to ever get any older than he looks right now. 

"Well, if she wants to make it one, then she'll actually have to do something instead of coasting along on her daughter's achievements." The vampire says. "If you mean as far as the law is concerned, I would have to say there are only the ones that apply to the peoples that are meant to be kept," his eyes flick to the leash in Dabi's hands, distaste curling his lip, "Underfoot." 

Dabi hasn't wanted to throw the length of chain and leather to the ground more since he arrived here, but he knows that he can't explain himself without too many other ears hearing him and ruining everything that he and Tomura have been working for over the past few weeks. "That's good. She should have watched her tongue. Your relationship with your... partner? Isn't anyone's business but yours." He doesn't think that the words can sound as genuine as they feel forming in his throat with the presentation that he's had to make of himself for the past few hours, but he tries. "I'm Dabi, this is Tomura Shigaraki." 

He has a feeling that neither of the men actually want to speak to him, but they are polite enough anyway. "Atsuhiro Sako," the vampire, doesn't offer his hand. 

"My name is Noboru Yasutake," the werewolf says and does. Dabi doesn't hesitate to take it. 

"It's nice to meet you." He hopes they can see how much he means it. He hopes they don't think he's insulting him when he asks, "How did you two become mates? Was it before the war?" That's the only way, isn't it? Before AFO solidified his control over the rest of the country and the subjugation of humans and wolves alike? 

"It's been nice to meet you Dabi." Yasutake says, his intonation flat enough to tell him that no matter how genuine, pressing strangers for that kind of information isn't something that he should have done. Dabi feels his face fall, uncertain what the expression across his features even was before, ready to apologize and make his way as far from these two as possible. 

And then Tomura shifts beside him. He presses his weight into his legs, his forehead against his thigh and yips softly. It's automatic for Dabi to reach down to him, his fingers threading through his hair as he sees Tomura look through his fringe, eyes unwavering on Yasutake as it happens. 

The standing wolf lets out a slow huff of breath before he says, "No. We became mates after." 

"If you'll excuse us." Sako manages a slightly more polite tone, but Dabi doesn't dare press further. He doesn't want to piss off two people who could... be allies in the fight that he and Tomura are planning on starting. He just... didn't know that was even a possibility. He never thought AFO would let anyone like them just walk around free. They go to another area of the party and Dabi can't think about socializing further. He just wants to leave. 

"Come on, puppy, let's go home." He mumbles, mostly to himself as they start to make their way from the outdoor venue and towards the carpark for all of the drivers who have been waiting for the party to conclude.

They get into their car and Dabi knows they can't talk until they're safely home, and he hopes that gives him the time to be able to focus on the important things that they learned at this event instead of the thorns in his chest. Tomura makes sure the barrier is up again and waits for them to start to pull away from the venue. 

And then his puppy is dropping to the floor between their bench and the rest of the cabin, the size of it not making this a particularly tight squeeze, but still startling Dabi regardless as his hands go around his thighs and he easily pries them open as Dabi tries not to sputter loudly enough to be heard through the barrier. 

"Wh-! Bad dog, what are you doing?" He asks desperately, his whole body lighting up with his blush as he realizes how the other man is already reaching for his belt to get his pants open. "S-stop that!" 

Tomura's eyes flick up to him, a growl leaving his throat, before he goes right back to what he's doing. There is nothing gentle in the movements, his hand making quick work of his belt and pants before he is lifting him enough to yank down those and his undergarments roughly and leave him exposed, only the cage around his cock stopping him from showing how completely the manhandling has turned his mind from what they'd observed into a soup of hormones as he tries to tug on his puppy's leash, but can't make him stop as he follows the building smell of his arousal to his cock that doesn't so much as twitch in the tight metal. 

"N-naughty dog, don't touch your master there." Dabi feels the heat of his blood unable to go where he wants it, so it circulates through the rest of him, making his head go light and dizzy, especially when his puppy meets his eyes, his red and burning with the same heat that is tearing Dabi apart at the seams. He whimpers softly, unable to make another protest as Tomura noses over his cock, along his balls, his tongue flicking out to tease them, before he hooks one of Dabi's legs over his shoulder. Then his mouth is against his hole instead and Dabi is squeezing the chain of the leash so hard that the links warp beneath his palm. He quickly shoves his other hand into his mouth, the taste of his own blood coating his teeth as they sink into his knuckles to keep the startled, pleasured cry muffled in his throat as Tomura starts to lick against him.

He soaks him. In a matter of minutes, his tongue has laved over every inch of him, swirling around his rim, teasing the muscles open so he can watch Dabi writhe on the seat, the sounds of it happening obscene and so loud, like he doesn't care what rumors the driver might spread about how he's used his pet. No one else would care, he knows, but the thought of anyone else catching wind of how much Dabi likes to be held at his pet's mercy, his tongue fucking his body and the correct speculation of how much he must like it when he gets fucked with other things, fills him with the heady pulse of shame that he didn't know that he could want. He gasps and whines around his knuckles, his body quivering from how quickly Tomura can work him up like this. His tongue presses inside of him, going all the way this time and making his walls spread and Dabi bruises his thighs as they jump against his restraining grip. 

"Puppy!" His hand slips from his mouth because it has to go to Tomura's hair. The leash can't restrain him so he has to stop him some other way before he falls apart completely. But he's not pulling the other man to a stop. He's holding onto him, trying to pull him closer as he wants to get his tongue as deeply inside of him as he can. He knows that it won't stretch him as well as his cock can, but this feels so good too as his wet tongue laves along his walls, curling to rub against his prostate and make his entire body so hot as his pleasure is only allowed to center there and not allowed to even ghost along his prick. Dabi forgets about being quiet at all as Tomura's mouth keeps moving against him, the other man barely taking a second to breathe as he show Dabi how easily he can have him falling apart like this as well, as he makes sure that he knows no matter how he played at being good throughout the party, he's the one in charge and he always will be. Dabi can't imagine ever wanting to wrest that control from his grip, not when giving it up leaves him feeling like this. 

Dabi's pleasure goes higher and higher, Tomura's tongue relentless inside of him until a pressure starts to build across his nerves. It doesn't feel the way an orgasm usually feels, aching from deep inside his body instead of along his cock, but it doesn't matter. It still feels good, and Dabi is desperate to chase it as he starts to rock into the licks, trying to press himself harder against his puppy's wandering tongue each time it moves against that spot inside. Tomura lets him, and the foot against his shoulder is braced there so that the leverage sends Dabi's pleasure into the stars as he feels himself cum. 

This orgasm is so different from ones he's had before, his cock still soft in his cage, his balls still heavy and full, aching from not getting a release too. But the ecstasy that rolls through him goes through his entire body, singing through his over-heated blood, and shaking along his nerves for longer than a normal orgasm would last. By the time this one is finished with him, Dabi feels absolutely ruined, his body slumping weakly into the seat as Tomura kisses and licks along his thighs. He has a scar there. Several, technically, from during his rut. Tomura kept biting his thighs, trying to show Dabi that he was owned by him and not the other way around. He wanted Dabi to know that if he were a wolf, he would have been his bitch. Dabi thinks that since then, he's been a fairly good one, doing whatever his master needs from him, even if he has to pretend to be Dabi's puppy in public. Dabi wonders if, at the end of this, if Tomura would be willing to keep him as a pet, or if he would want an omega in his space instead. He could have a real pack then. 

He is still panting, trembling, against the seat when Tomura shifts between his legs. He reaches up and undoes his collar with one hand, taking the leash off of its hook and then setting the leather aside for the moment. Then he gently coaxes Dabi back up so that he can pull his clothes back into place. His hands move along his arms and he gently takes the leash from the hand still clutching it like a lifeline, and he coils it up neatly before he presses a kiss to Dabi's temple and picks the collar back up. He gets that around Dabi's throat instead and it becomes so easy to melt. His master always knows what's best for him and what he should do. He doesn't have to think about the future right now, they'll figure it out as they start their war, all he has to do is be a good boy for Tomura. 

He yips very softly and Tomura pulls him closer, kissing his temple again as he sits him in his lap. "You just have to wait until we get home, precious." He murmurs, barely loud enough for him to hear. "And then we're going to play with your cute prick until it's all empty. You've earned so many rewards for what a good job you did tonight." Dabi melts completely, losing track of time and his good sense as Tomura keeps him close, keeps stroking his hands along his body, pressing kisses to his cheeks, temples, his lips. He feels spoiled long before the car pulls to a stop and Tomura opens the door and steps out, then leaning back in so that he can pick up Dabi and carry him to the door like he doesn't weigh anything at all. The lights are out, so his siblings must have listened to him and gone to bed, and Dabi is glad because that means they won't see how much of a mess Tomura's affection has already turned him into as he's carried up the stairs. 

His master doesn't pause until he's placing Dabi down on their bed, and as soon as he does that, Dabi is expecting for him to make him hump his pillow or ride one of the toys that he bought him. Usually when he gets a reward, Tomura decides if he feels like that involving him actually being the one to touch him. He's not always up for that, and after what he already did in the car, and the stress from the rest of the day, he wouldn't dare push. 

So he's not expecting it when Tomura growls, his eyes glowing and his teeth snapping into the leather of his gloves so he can tug them off, the first one still on the way to the floor as his freed hand reaches out and grabs Dabi's suit jacket and shirt. He yelps, fear sharp in his veins as he sees his quirk turn the fabric to a fine gray dust before he's reaching for his pants too. In a matter of seconds, Dabi is bare and splayed back on the bed, Tomura's naked body crawling over him as he catches him around the back of the neck again, deadly hand made gentle, and pulls him into another kiss so deep that Dabi is left glad that he doesn't need to breathe. Tomura's other hand goes to their cock cages, not bothering to find the keys in the nightstand when he can just send those into dust as well, and then grinding their hips together so Dabi can feel that he is hardening just as rapidly as he is as their bodies connect. 

Dabi can't help the moan that he lets out, and he doesn't have to. This is their place. The only place that he is allowed to be whatever Tomura wants him to be. "Master," he whines, arms winding around his neck in an effort to keep from scratching open wounds on his back even as he spreads his legs even wider and rocks so that Tomura can feel the spit that has leaked out of him, and everything that hasn't dried from the short rest of the car ride. Does he feel wet like an omega would be? He can't voice the question without revealing how much he wants to be anything that would make Tomura choose to keep him, so he bites back the words. 

He's never just given the other's cock. Tomura likes to play with him, to tease him, to exert his control so that he knows that he is the one in charge and never has to doubt it when the ghosts in his mind come to torment him. But tonight, Tomura doesn't tease him, he just murmurs, "You smell so good, firefly," before his length is pushing inside. 

The spit alone does leave a bit of drag between their bodies, but that heightened sensation only makes Dabi moan louder as he spills more of the smell of his desperation into the air. Tomura licks the sound out from behind his teeth. 

"Such a good boy, puppy." His voice is rough. Tomura always talks to him, but Dabi's head is spinning. The tone in it is so different from what he usually expects out of the other man. "You did such a good job today. Been doing so well for so long now, baby boy." He praises, his hands starting to move over Dabi's body as he kisses down his neck and rocks his hips into him. His length, no matter how many times he gets to take it, always feels so big, stretches him so wide, and Dabi is always left wondering how he ever could have been surviving with just his fingers alone when having something so big and hot pushing him open makes him feel this good. "Always behaving for me, doing your best, being so patient when I can't give you all of my attention. Such a good boy," It's Tomura's breath that hitches even as Dabi gives a weak sob. He never managed to feel so good without crying. He wonders if that's just because he didn't think that good things should happen to him, if his disgust and guilt over the way he'd tried to find them since he was turned have ingrained them into the sensations, or if it's because, while Tomura will give him praise, it's usually saturated with such filthy declarations. It doesn't usually sound so... genuine. Like these words are being pulled out of him with a hook. But his eyes are so genuine and so intense, looking down at him as his cock fucks him in frantic, deep thrusts like he doesn't have the patience to wait for the pleasure to build the way that Dabi is usually begging to rush. "Mine." 

He thinks the vine strangling his heart might shred it, because he feels as paralyzed and stunned as he would if it had been ripped out of his chest or destroyed. He can only hold onto the other man as he leans down and it's him sinking sharp teeth into Dabi's neck. Dabi doesn't remember if his sire did that or if he was turned via a dialysis machine and an IV drip, but his instincts still know this. Not the way that a wolf would know it. A wolf would know this as forever, as I love you, as marriage. It would be something beautiful and complete that would link them together forever and open their minds to one another so that they wouldn't ever be left wondering how they could help each other or how to navigate the landmines that are strewn throughout their lives and pasts. But vampires are different, selfish, parasitic. His immediate reaction is that his fangs also drop, a hiss leaving his throat as he wants to be able to sink his teeth into the other's neck in turn and take as much blood from his veins as possible. 

Tomura doesn't linger, his teeth come away from his skin, his mouth streaked with blood and he says again, "Mine," before he lets Dabi rear up to sink his teeth into his pulse point. His blood gushes over Dabi's tongue, hot with his arousal and Tomura moans as he feels how being allowed to have a meal while they're entwined pushes Dabi's pleasure over the edge. He clenches down around his cock as his prick spills his cum between their bodies, all of his careful training melting away as he takes greedy gulps from Tomura's veins as he clings to him. And the wolf doesn't stop him. He groans, holding onto him tightly, one hand against their headboard that cracks and crumbles as he clutches it too carelessly. As Dabi feels something bigger than his lover's cock starting to spread his rim. Dabi gurgles on the mouthful of blood, the shock of that snapping his mind from its feral feeding frenzy as he pulls his fangs from Tomura's skin and moans as he feels his knot starting to push inside of him. It's so much bigger than he remembered it being before and Tomura mixes the blood on their teeth as he pulls Dabi's mouth back to his so he can kiss him hard as he slams it inside and finds another way of claiming his body as his mate.

///

Tomura thinks that it's past dawn when Dabi's body is too spent to give any more and he has to admit that his own cock is sore too from how many times he managed to knot the vampire even off of his rut. And when he finally starts to draw back, Dabi clings to him, his eyes still glassy, bloody tears sticky all over his cheeks. It's not the first time that he's thought that the other man looked like such a pitiful creature, but the ache that goes through him as he smells the flicker of fear, of doubt, that always comes for the other after he's ever allowed to feel good makes Tomura try to be even softer as he untangles their bodies from each other. He's not leaving, but he doesn't know how to make those words leave his throat. He wants to take care of him and make sure that he stays feeling good after how hard he knows today was. It was hard for both of them, but Tomura knows that he can survive anything if it means that he can be certain he will be the one coming out on top in the end. Dabi, he thinks, might have thought that when he was being trained for the war, but afterward, his survival was only manipulated and desperate. He'll learn again. Tomura will teach him. After they've rested, they'll talk about the things that they've learned and start to look for ways of getting the other Todorokis out of the country. They'll make their plans on how to destroy this disgusting world his teacher made and that will all be hard work, important work, but work that can come tomorrow. 

Right now, he slips out of the bed only so he can get his footing before he picks Dabi up and carries him into the bathroom. Even after all the ways he tangled their bodies together, they both still have the lingering scents of other people on their skin and he wants that gone. He wants to scent mark his mate's skin and know that no one else will be able to taint it. 

A mate. It's something he never even dared to wonder if he would want, just like he made his peace with the fact that he would never have a pack. But he wants Dabi. He wants to know that the vampire belongs to him because it's the only way he would ever be able to stomach giving himself to the other in turn after everything that he has suffered before. A fair trade, equals in it. By laws more immutable than any that his bastard teacher thinks he can enact in this world. A bond that will make Tomura stay, that will let him keep working on what a future could look like if he doesn't just let his quirk eat through them too in his pursuit of destruction. 

He fills the tub and climbs in with Dabi, the other man still dazed, but he knows this. He trusts Tomura's hand, hands that could kill him so easily, to touch him softly, to soothe the hurts that they may have done to one another in their passion, and to make him soft and hold whatever shape Tomura desires for the rest of the night. Dabi has been so... pliant beneath his scorn, his snarling, his demands. He started doing it while he was soaked in the smell of guilt, but it isn't that now. It hasn't been for a long time. No, now, as he turns over his will to become Tomura's entirely, it is devotion, adoration, love that spill from his pours, screaming to be noticed beneath the smell of smoke. He wanted it so much, but he hid it as best he could. Because Dabi wouldn't ever ask for something from him. He wouldn't think that he could do so without it being a demand no matter how many times he tries to give up all of the control he has over him. He wonders if he would have waited until after the war, until after they won, to posit the question. To ask if Tomura would keep him when they're done and he doesn't need him anymore. He doesn't think that a month ago that he would have thought that he needed anyone at all by the time he was free again. But he wants Dabi. He used to be allowed to take whatever he wanted, a selfishness that he now sees his teacher was hoping to indoctrinate into him so that he would be even worse if he'd turned into a vampire. But he will be selfish in one great way one more time. 

"Stay with me." He murmurs against Dabi's temple once he's washed their bodies clean and just pulled the other man closer against him. Just holding him because he never thought he would wrap his arms tenderly around anyone at all, let alone this man when he had met his eyes in that dark, oppressive room. 

"Please?" Dabi's voice is so small when it comes back at him, his eyes not daring to look at his face, but his fingers holding onto him as tightly as he can, like he's scared that Tomura will change his mind. How could he ever when Dabi is willing to burn the world down around them just for a chance to atone for the suffering the first fire he set unwittingly caused? 

Tomura spends another half an hour at least just pressing kisses along his face, stroking his hands over his skin, not trying to work him up, but assuring him that he is right there. That he isn't going anywhere.

And when the water goes cooler, he dries them off, wraps Dabi in a warm towel that smells like them, and then brings him into the living room. He has him sit on the couch as he takes the absolutely ruined sheets from their bed and puts them in the laundry before he goes to make Dabi something to eat. He's already had his blood today, but Tomura needs to give his mate food, especially after he took his knot so many times. It feels like cheating when he comes back over to the couch with the reheated rice and beef that Dabi made for him the day before, but Dabi doesn't protest eating if he gets to do so while curled up in his lap, Tomura unable to stop himself from stroking his hand along Dabi's nearly-dry hair, feeling as his higher body temperature is making the moisture evaporate away from the locks.

Dabi finishes the food and looks back up at him, like he only bothered to do it because he thought it was an order that he was being given and that tightness squeezes Tomura's ribs again. Was there ever a time when he looked at someone so trustingly, with such clear and open devotion and adoration in his eyes, and he wasn't punished for it in some way or another? He doesn't think so. He's not going to hurt Dabi the way he has been.

Tomura presses another kiss to his forehead and then shifts their position on the couch, bringing the throw at the other end of the couch up so that he can wrap it around their bodies and trap Dabi's heat against them. "You've been such a good boy, puppy. Come get cozy, we're going to relax here until the sheets are clean. If you keep being so sweet, maybe we can even make them dirty again later.” They will, there's no doubt about that. Tomura's hands, his mind, his heart feel like they've been starving for every contact that he's ever been denied, and the bite that is already healed against Dabi's throat tells him that he is the only one in the world who can give them all to him. They will have so much hard work to do. Not only out in the world, but right here in this house for as long as they can hold onto it as the fighting starts, if they actually want this to live past their war. Tomura knows that there is more of a mess in his head than there is in Dabi's, especially now that he is transitioning away from needing a sire to teach him how to survive. It will have to be both of them who decide to stay together once they are finished with this fight. 

But in the meantime, he'll savor how long he can hold onto something without it breaking apart beneath his hands. 

///

It's four years of fighting, seven of anarchy, and twelve before some new government starts to be put into place before Dabi has to wonder if there isn't a future for him with Tomura in it anymore. He stopped doubting a long time ago. When they reached the point that they were recruiting people and it was Dabi who was recruiting people to Tomura's cause, when it was Tomura who people started saying would be the best person to lead them, never making mention of him being a wolf even though human refugees and vampires who didn't buy into AFO's vision had joined them. It didn't matter his species. Tomura was the best person for the job. And when they are finally at the point where things are starting to be properly rebuilt, again, it's Tomura who is the person that people say should go from their Grand Commander to their king, he's the only logical choice for the job. It's just that after those words start floating around, others get whispered among the now free werewolves who have joined their cause. Will he take a real mate? An omega? Have pups so that this new country they are having to build from the ground up will be able to have a legacy? 

Dabi smells like doubt for, he thinks, only just a moment as he walks into the room that Tomura is currently using as an office, before he straightens up and turns his attention to him. He growls at him, the sound warning and unflinching, and it makes Dabi straighten his spine. No. He's Tomura's mate. No matter how many people think that they are a bad match, no matter how other werewolves don't believe that Dabi could ever make right what his victory over his father set in motion for AFO. He will work the rest of his immortal life to undo those actions in the eyes of them, but that is not something he is allowed to do here. Not anymore. Not after twelve years of Tomura trying to show him that he is wanted, loved, redeemed to him in as many ways that he has ever been able to offer and that he has worked for since Tomura broke out of the cell he'd kept him in. 

"Shoto wants to come back and help with the rebuilding efforts." He says instead of voicing the flickers of doubts that still come for him, the same way that nightmares still pull his lover from their bed at all hours of the day. They're things that might live inside of them forever, but Dabi hopes that they will find the power to keep them in check someday. 

"Of course he does. And did you tell him that there still won't be any heroes in this new nation we're building?" 

"He didn't even ask about his quirk." One final defeat of AFO. Tomura forced his quirk out of his body and into his own at the very end. It nearly killed them both as the sun engulfed their bodies in flames. But Dabi had been more afraid of losing him than feeling the kiss of fire again and he pulled Tomura out of AFO's grip, his hands the last thing to crumble away where they had been wrapped around Tomura's neck before all traces of the vampire had turned to ash.

Tomura gestures for him to heel, and after another sixteen hour day of making sure that he is doing as much as he can to help to find a way to bring their world to order, Dabi readily moves over to his lover. He kneels down beside his seat and rests his cheek against his knee. "If you want him here, he can come back, firefly." Dabi doesn't technically need permission for that, Shoto doesn't even need his permission to find someone insane enough to bring a boat or plane to Japan and just show up. But his brother asked to be polite, and Dabi asks because he needs to hear his master tell him that he trusts him to make the right choice for himself, even if he doesn't use those words to convey that meaning. 

It does something to him, that same, soft thing that it has for so long now, when Tomura sighs quietly as he starts to pet his hair. A sound that means that he's letting some of the tension leave him, that he is finally willing to let himself take care of his own needs and rest for a while. Something that he only does when he can wrap up those needs in caring for Dabi's as well. 

"Alright, pet. Let's go eat and then we'll see if you've earned any rewards today." 

Dabi nuzzles against his master's palm and gives a soft yip, more than happy to do anything that helps his mate choose to care for himself the same careful way he has chosen to do for him throughout the years. 

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[whisperwritingstuff]

Hey guys, remember this hero for sale enemies/lovers post? Yeah, Varanere and I went wild so here you go, have all this. See if you can figure out who wrote which bits. : 3

-

mind you, in hfs enemies/lovers, that like. of course vex has security cameras all over his own lair. when he's fully out of his fever, possibly a couple weeks after hotguy is gone, he stumbles on the footage clearly showing that he didn't make it out to go get hotguy

which is confusing because he could swear he remembers doing that (he doesn't, but it was easy for scar to convince feverish-vex of the memory, talking him through building it up)

vex briefly entertains the notion of someone messing with the footage, but he trusts his systems

which leaves vex with only questions and no answers

just a video freeze-framed on the shot of hotguy picking up the collar

-

Cubbie would fully run to Doc in a panic that the mind control collar had Unforeseen Side Effects.

Try as they might, they Cannot recreate them, or find any reason for them.

Cub stays fully convinced its his fault tho. That he did something to Hotguy to cause him to come back. Torn between wanting to distance himself to not alter him further and the everpresent maelstrom he feels helplessly drawing him towards Hotguy.

Scar wonders why Vex is being so hot and cold with him since shortly after his latest stay at the ConCave(?). Did he do sth wrong? Was Vex upset with him for knowing where his lair was? With being seen in such a vulnerable state? Or even with Scar convincing him of a lie?

How would they even begin to attempt to recreate the chance that Cub has simply accidentally Trained Hotguy after years of this, to come to him every year- Did he make the collar Too Pleasant? He paces and throws ideas at Doc.

Cub doesn't understand it, that's what bothers him the most. He doesn't get it and therefore he doesn't know how to interact with it. He doesn't know how not to cause any further degradation of Hotguy's self, surely only Cub having damaged that would cause Hotguy to come to him willingly.

Vex tries to fight Hotguy like Hotguy were any other hero interrupting him, silent blows and efficient traps. Like a reset. Like reminding Hotguy how this is supposed to go. (Like tearing himself apart.)

This only makes Hotguy chase Vex more, push him harder. Something isn't right. Vex isn't supposed to shut him out like this. Vex is /his/ archnemesis. Hotguy has to stop himself from throwing a punch at another hero fighting Vex, but it's a close enough call that he knows Vex knows.

This only drives Vex into a further spiral of guilt about what he's Done to Hotguy. (The thought that Hotguy could have naturally become as obsessed with him right back never enters his mind. Not the perfect shining hero. not the silly all too lovable movie buff. Not over Vex.)

Vex tries to go quiet for a few weeks, when treating Hotguy coldly only seems to make things even worse.

Oh Scar would not take Vex going cold and then awol well. He's constantly on edge. Hitting too hard. Pushing himself too far. Telling himself that the nightmares filled with loneliness and an echoey, distant mocking laugh won't come if hes tired enough.

Scar hasn't eaten more than fast food and protein bars/shakes in weeks. It barely visible, but his health is declining.

Cub is switching between not looking at the news to trawling the web for any recent images of Hotguy he can find. This is fine, he tells himself. He cant hurt him any more like this.

But Cub is familiar with every curve and pane of Hotguys body, and he sees the decline. The start of muscle and fat loss. The way the scars stand in sharp relief over graying skin, pale sentinels of injuries passed but not forgotten. (One of them is from Cub. A small, jagged line on Hotguys right calf. Where his axe had once torn half the muscle apart on an ill timed swing. It's still Cubs proudest achievement and deepest regret, to have marked his Hero in suffering like that.)

Cub is sitting on the roof of his building, weeks later. Being here reminds him of fighting Hotguy, of being Vex. (He isn't sure he wants the reminder.)

Arms folded on the low railing, feet threaded between posts and dangling over the edge. A faint thump behind him.

Hotguy, landing on the roof. Slumping over a vent, clearly exhausted.

Cub has a choice to make. He's hidden in the shadow of the stairwell out of Hotguys sight. (Unless his night vision visor is on.)

He's also in his civilian persona. Who has met Hotguy before. At fundraisers and galas and big dinners.

Never casual. Never out of the public eye.

He could go up to him, as Cub. Offer the obviously exhausted hero a drink or a snack maybe. Something healthy. (The obvious malnutrition Hotguy has been showing lately is weighing heavily on him)

As Cub deliberates, Hotguy sinks to the floor. Shakes out and rubs what he can reach of his arms and legs.

Tingling nerves from B¹² deficiency, Cub suspects.

When Hotguy lifts his visor to rub his eyes, grousing about how he's blind as a bat at night these days, (vitamin A deficiency, Cub knows), he makes a snap decision. Gets up, leaves the shadows, and approaches Hotguy, weary smile on his lips.

Scar pushes himself to be the most Hotguy that he can be. Nothing but training and rescues in his head. He tries. He tells himself this is what normal is. Was. Should be. He tells himself he only rewatches the news coverage of his old fights with Vex to better learn how to stop him, not because he wasn't going to be able to sleep without hearing that laugh anyway. Not because he's trying to pinpoint how it all went wrong.

He hadn't even realized, how much time he'd begun wasting with cooking. Ever since getting a taste of it, during his captive weeks. Now every time he steps foot in his shitty little kitchen, it only reminds him of Vex, of the startled smile he'd gotten when presenting Vex with a carrot cake. It only reminds him of that aching hollow where his nemesis should be. Better to just grab the shakes or bars as quick as he can and be on his way, spend as little time int here as possible.

(Cub wants to touch it. More now than ever, he wants to know what that mark he left on Hotguy Feels Like under his fingertips, under his palm. Under his li-)

Cub has mundane work to throw himself into. He has friends. Friend. Acquaintance, at least. He tinkers, and he runs deep reviews and overhauls on the financial of all his companies. He lets it consume his whole attention.

And then it spits him out on the other side, needing sun and air as much as he needed a snack. He could do them all at once.

When he hears Hotguy land, at first Cub thinks it's wishful thinking. But he could come up with something nicer if it were.

Cub keeps his eyes averted as he approaches, not looking under the lifted visor. Hotguy needs the juice more than he does, Cub thinks, so he offers it up. Practically places it in Hotguy's hand, before rummaging around in his pockets.

Hotguy startles, tenses up subtly as soon as his hands are out of sight. Calms again when Cub just drops a packet of (vitamin fortified) fruit gummies and a packet of peanut butter cracker sandwiches on Hotguy's lap. Cub wishes he had more, or something better, but. It's what he'd brought with him.

"Hey man, thanks for keeping the city safe." Cub mumbles his words, "You do good work. Good work."

And sure, Hotguy's heard it a hundred times before, but somehow, here, sprawled on the roof of a building with someone he only barely knows, it feels a little different. It feels warmer. It brings a tiny smile to his lips. It loosens his tongue enough to poke and prod at Cub until he can get Cub rambling about his numbery stuff, so Scar can just listen and snack.

It doesn't occur to Hotguy in that moment that he didn't once question the food or drink he was given, accepting it gratefully.

Cub knows he's doomed. Dooming himself by doing this. By indulging in chatting with Hotguy, almost like it's one of their kidnap weeks.

He can feel his addiction sparking back up. He knows, in his bones, that tomorrow, he will be back in his lair, back to plotting. Back to being Vex. (Back to hurting Hotguy.)

He tells himself that at least he'll stay strong. Not engage in any banter, just cold and efficient villaining, that Hotguy will defeat nonetheless. (Because Cub lets him.)

He doesn't even last the first encounter. Something in that rooftop chat had broken the dam he built inside himself, and here he is, responding to Hotguy's admittedly superficial attempts at banter like a cut sunflower, doomed to die and yet still turning his head to reach for his sun.

Addiction. Obsession. Those are the words Cub knows for this feeling. This thing in his chest that shifts with a discomforting comfort when Hotguy smiles at him. This all-consuming need for more of Hotguy. The ache of his unpunched cheek, longing for Hotguy's knuckles. (A cheek that has still not forgotten Hotguy's caress)

What's the point? What's the point of going back to villaining if it's not to interact with Hotguy? If it's not to throw his morals to the wind and selfishly covet those few minutes he has Hotguy's undivided attention?

Unfortunately for Vex, Hotguy is not quite as welcoming as he'd hoped. He banters, yes. He fights. But Hotguy holds a line of wary tension in his body whenever Vex is near, not letting his guard down. Vex has burned him, abandoned him, and Hotguy doesn't trust that this return to form is anything but a ploy to get him to lower his guard.

Hotguy puts real effort into capturing Vex, for once, startling them both when the cuff clicks shut around Vex's wrist.

In a snap decision Cub will never understand about himself, he snaps the other cuff on Hotguys wrist. (He could phase out of them. The cuffs are meant to suppress innate powers, not tech assists like his. Cub never let on that he is a full tech villain, not a partial power and partial tech villain. Easier to keep cover that way. They may as well be an innate power by now, with the implants running through his whole body.)

Their eyes meet over where they are now trapped together.

Cub may blame idle daydreams he's had before, of being stuck with Hotguy. Those had never included him being in his villain persona before, though.

(Cub has encouraged people in thinking his powers are part magic or part fae pact. He even modulated his voice-altering implant to fit that theme. Easy enough to pretend the tech enhances what's already there instead of creating it. He keeps a few of his power boosts external for that purpose, so he can be weakened when they're knocked off or broken, while the internal implants still provide some powers.)

(Scar has never needed to bring the key before! He just. Slaps the cuffs on villains, drops them off, and it becomes someone else's problem!! And then he picks up the cuffs later, or they get delivered back to him. He's not sure he'd be able to find it if he tried! And he can't try because he refuses to being Vex to his home.)

They stare at one another for a long moment.

The first to move is Hotguy, and he plain decks Vex, though the angle is awkward with him having to use his off-hand and them being so close together. It stings, but it doesn't knock Vex out.

Vex laughs a shocked (happy, in a sick way) laugh, and asks what hotguy was going to do if that did knock him out. Start carrying him around again? [he didn't mean to say again. he didn't mean to think about the footage of hotguy carrying him. he wishes he remembered it, that the fever hadn't eaten those memories.]

The media would be having a field day with this, if they could see it.

At least Cub had the presence of mind to cuff Hotguy's main to his off hand, so they can at least stand side by side and walk without it being awkward. Cub thanked the stars that they had found themselves in a stairwell, cut off from the outside. No one else to justify their actions to, just their highest courts, themselves and each other.

Cub has that freefalling feeling he will be found guilty.

"Unlock em already," he demands. With Hotguy busy, he could make a getaway.

Hotguy mumbles something unintellegable.

"What?" Cub snaps.

"I dont have the damned key!" Hotguy yells at him. Cub stills. How are they getting out of this?

How soon before someone comes looking for them? Vex pulls them down a few flights of stairs, just so they'll be a little harder to find. Just to give himself a moment to think.

"You don't- Okay. Okay. Who has your backup key? Cuteguy?" Cub assumes there's someone with a backup key. Like how he has Doc for some of his stuff. Like the collar. No, don't think about the collar. He's looking at Hotguy's neck again.

And wow, Hotguy Sure Is wishing he'd thought of having a backup key at this point. That'd be super helpful right now! "No! It's just- We'll just have to cut it!"

"Cut. The cuffs designed to stand up to every super you've faced out here. That's your plan." Cub deadpans.

"I don't see you having a better one!"

Cub taps the folded down shaft of his axe. "I could always cut off the weaker link. You only really need one hand, right?"

Hotguy finds himself aching for the days where he could (thought he could) read Vex clearly, because he Cannot tell from the flat-cranky expression if Vex is joking or not. "Try it and I'll bite you-" He doesn't know why he blurts that out, bristling and aggressive.

Cub's eyes dart to Hotguy's mouth. Trace his lips. The unbidden image of those teeth tearing into his skin shoves itself into his mind, complete with the ghost of feeling it.

"Kinky." He snaps, his mouth running faster than his brain.

Cub wishes he could swallow the word as soon as it leaves his lips. Wants to sink into the earth to hide from his shame.

Scar is floored. Did Vex really just say that? Really Really? Like they are just bantering on his couch with a movie in the background again? No, bad Scar, pull yourself together, you are Hotguy right now. Act like it! Don't think about cozy domestic nights with your archnemesis! (Scar is ignoring that shameless flirting and banter is right on brand for his hero self.)

Cub hadn't realized what a trap it was to let his eyes drift to Hotguy's lips, now he can't seem to move them anywhere else. Watching for any hint of movement. Eager to catch sight of even the briefest flick of tongue.

"It's not! I'll- I'll tear your arm right open! And I won't stop, I'll rip the muscles apart with my teeth until you can never hold that stupid axe again. I'll make sure you never forge- I'll keep you from doing any more harm, no matter what it takes!" Scar would also love to not be saying the words he's saying but he opened his mouth and they started flowing out and he thinks that Vex might be onto something this might actually be a little bit kinky if he thinks too hard about sinking his teeth into Vex's flesh, about his new ravenous curiosity about the taste of Vex's blood. At least he managed to not say something stupid about Vex not being able to forget him. Saved it at the last second, getting back on track with very normal not-kinky hero words. No one needs to know how much Vex's absence stung, especially not Vex.

Vex blinks, then presses the back of his free hand to Hotguy's forehead. He has no idea what to do with that torrent of words, other than check for a fever that isn't there.

Scar yanks his head away, stumbling backwards. He does not have a fever, and who does Vex think he his, treating him so caringly!

He completely forgot that they were currently cuffed together. He remembers this fact with alarming clarity, when he backs into the edge of the stairs and falls backwards, pulling Vex with him.

He lands hard on his quiver, which is thankfully made to withstand much more weight landing on it. It does dig hard into his back, from shoulder to hip though, leaving him unbalanced even laying half sloped on the stairs.

Vex falls on top of him. Their foreheads clack together loudly, painfully. Vex catches himself partly on one hand braced above Scar's shoulder.

Their faces are not even an inch apart in the gloom of the stairwell. Vex's eyes peering down at him, pale blue and uniform. Scar had always thought of these eyes as soulless, with the missing iris and pupil. Now, this close, he can see they aren't. He can see so many emotions reflected in them, more than he has words for.

Vex's breath ghosts over his lips, hot and heavy in the tight space.

Cub has his lips pressed to Hotguy. Why? He doesn't know. When did this happen? He couldn't tell you.

Who moved first, who closed the gap?

That is a question for later. Right now, all that is left in Cubs brain is the burning need to devour the lips of the man in front of him like he is the air he needs to breathe.

Later, Cub will blame the 'concussion' (their heads hitting together wasn't nearly enough to concuss either of them) for the kiss, regardless of which of them closed the space.

Now? Right now Cub is starving for Hotguy, ravenous. He can't get enough. He might never get this again. The kiss is as much giddy rapture as it is clinging fear.

Hotguy is. He's being kissed like he's the only person in the entire world. Like Vex wants to pull his soul out from between his lips and- Can Vex do that? Is that one of his powers? Hotguy kind of hopes not, he thinks he likes his soul. But he also likes being Wanted more than someone wants Air Itself, so he's arching up into the kiss as much as he can without sliding on the stairs. Some distant part of his brain remembers that he wants to Bite Vex. So he does. He bites way harder than he needs to, watching Vex's eyes flare brighter with a moan as Vex tastes his own blood between them. Fuck. Scar now has to live with knowing what that tastes like. With knowing that he likes sucking on Vex's lip. With knowing Vex is an earnest but overly methodical kisser. With knowing he wants More. What is Hotguy supposed to do with any of that? What is Scar supposed to do with any of that?

Apparently his body's answer is to spread his legs and try to pull Vex closer.

Rapid steps pittering down the stairs shake Cub out of his reverie.

"I think they went down here." he hears a voice say. Reporters, if he had to guess.

Reporters, who can under no circumstances see what just went down here. What still is going down. (Him. Him going down on Hotguy's lips like he needs them to breathe.)

Both of them freeze, wide-eyed, mouths still slanted over each other. Cub's lip still sucked between Hotguy's. Hips frozen mid grind, their hard dicks mostly aligned through the thick fabric of their costumes, barely granting them any friction, any pressure at all, just more frustration.

Cub would have ripped both of their costumes off, had he been given the chance.

They separate like they've been burned, Cub fully extending his cuffed arm to be able to sit back, off of Hotguy.

"Should we... make a break for it?" Vex asks, sounding more uncertain than Hotguy likes hearing him.

Hotguy wants to hug himself, but that would both be unheroic and also impossible with one of his arms stretched out and still stuck to Vex's. Instead he plays with a smoke bomb arrow from his quiver. "Think you're going to be able to?" He asks. He realizes he has no idea how much the dampener cuffs effect Vex. He's lucky himself not to have any kind of power he needs. Nothing reliable anyway. He also kind of hopes he's not the only one who's in need of a moment to get rid of something entirely too close to being a boner for his comfort. Scar tells himself that it's a natural reaction to a warm body on his, it could happen with anyone. Hell, maybe it even has happened with Cuteguy before. So like. It's totally normal, right? It just happens sometimes.

"There has to be something at my lair that can fix this." Cub mutters.

Hotguy flinches back. "I might as well ask you to come down to the station."

"Their speaker system sucks and their beds aren't half as nice." Cub counters, a bit miffed at what feels like a slight to his sort-of-home. One of his homes, anyway.

Not that they have much longer to discuss it, with the footsteps getting closer.

"Do it." Vex says.

Scar pushes the triggerpin on the smoke arrow, and struggles to his feet, half having to cling to Vex for stability.

Smoke billows up around them, filling the stairwell.

They make a break for the closest door, huddling through.

A corridor lined with doors greets them. And there, at the end, a window with a fire escape. A way up and onto the roof, to get where they want to go mostly unseen, if they can coordinate the climb and jumps.

And once they decide on a destination. Luckily, the station and Vex's lair were roughly in the same direction.

For one brief moment the thought flickers through Hotguy's head to take Vex's lead, before he firmly pushes it down and takes the lead himself. He's the Hero here. He's ready to make it a fight.

Vex doesn't make it a fight. Not when he wants to be far away from prying eyes more than he wants to get into a pissing match with Hotguy. Not when their goals line up for the moment. He'll deal with when they de-align when that happens. For now he matches his steps to Hotguy's. Easy to do, he's studied everything about how Hotguy moves. He's ready, moving his arm to accommodate the motions Hotguy wants to make before Hotguy can even make them. Vex shuts his brain off and sinks into the flow of movement. He trusts Hotguy with the run-up and jumps timing.

At least, until they're several roofs away and Hotguy tries to steer them toward the station. Vex stops hard, then.

"No." Vex would do a lot of things for Hotguy (for another kiss like that especially) but he does Not want to go to jail. Or have his identity found out.

"I have to bring you in." Hotguy argues.

"No." Vex refuses again. "I won't let you."

"Well I'm not going to your lair." Hotguy snips back.

"You have to. It's the only way I can get us out of these." Vex shakes his hand, shaking Hotguy's with it where they are still cuffed together. "Come on man, you've been at mine before."

"Yeah, when you were mind controlling me!" Neither of them is relenting.

"So you need to be mind controlled to come to my place? Yeah, I can do that." Much to Hotguy's shock, Vex reaches into a pocket on his costume, and pulls out a collar.

What looks like his collar.

"Theres no way I'm letting yo-" Vex has him spun into his arms and pinned before he can finish his sentence. His trained hero reflexes kick in way too late, doing nothing but stiffening him in Vex's hold.

"Shhh, it'll be okay man. It'll be okay." Vex closes the collar around his throat. It really is unfair that he had his main hand free, when Hotguy is stuck with his offhand.

"There. Now you can quite your whining and come along." Vex is pulling him towards his lair.

Scar feels a calm settle over him when the collar clicks shut around his throat. A tension in him, released. He stumbles a moment, but follows Vex. "I don't want to." He whines, more petulant than a Hero should sound. More like Scar than Hotguy.

"Yeah, we all have to do thing we don't want to sometimes, suck it up." Vex keeps his words clipped and authoritative, his motions confident. He can't falter for a moment.

This is a gamble. This is a huge gamble for Vex. If Hotguy figures out that isn't the collar with the mind control device in it, then it's all over. There's nothing actually stopping Hotguy from attacking Vex. What else was he supposed to do! Hotguy was being unreasonable.

"Vex." Hotguy drags out the name, becomes distracted with the feel of it in his mouth. "Vex. Vex." He repeats the word, still following. It's getting easier to follow now. Easier to forget that there's any reason he didn't want to spend time with Vex.

"Yeah, that's me. You're doing good. Cheers, man." Vex encourages, his stomach twisting as how well his plan is working. What does that mean for what he's done to Hotguy? He can't think about that. Focus on the task at hand. Lair. Handcuffs. Nothing else.

Scar is sinking into that soft, cushy headspace he sometimes gets in those forbidden stolen weeks of domesticity. He doesn't have to do anything like this. Doesn't have to be Hotguy and bring Vex to- no, don't think about it. Just float. Just let his mind fizzle out and ignore whats going on around him, ignore how he knows they're almost there. Ignore the bubbling thoughts of Vex just deciding to keep him, to never let him go. Locking him in his deepest vault and throwing out the key.

He's ignoring that he now knows the shape of Vex's moans of pleasure. Ignoring how he wants to taste them again.

There is no door falling shut to snap him out of his daze, the door to Vex's lair closes soundlessly behind them. Scar stands there, docile and pliant, while Vex collects himself.

Cub adores and hates the look on Hotguy's face. It looks so empty. Like his first mind control attempt, where Hotguy was just a puppet for him to play with. The thought of doing this to him long term, of wiping away such a radiant personality, is not one Cub wants to dwell on.

Cub scrutinizes Hotguy, he can't help it, he needs to find something in Hotguy that's different than that first time- He doesn't know what to do when that difference comes in the way Hotguy belatedly notices his gaze, straightening up and beaming a bright smile at Cub. Not bright like his smile for crowds and events, but bright and a little bit messy, loose, lopsided. Like there's a spark of adoration there, powering the brightness of his expression.

Cub turns away, pulls them both to his lab- His heart is racing far more than it had been while they were running. He thinks he should take the collar off, if he wants to save any part of this... unnamed thing between them. He reminds himself he's already ruined that, and that he doesn't need Hotguy interrupting him trying to separate them with a fight or something.

Scar finds it natural, when Vex sits in the only chair in the lab, to simply sink down to his knees beside Vex. He rests his cuffed hand on Vex's thigh, to give Vex some use of the matched hand. And to get to touch- If Scar's focused on touching, then he's not thinking about how easy it'd be to scoot under the desk instead, nuzzle into the space between Vex's thighs-

Right, none of that, just the fabric of Vex's costume under his hand. Hm. What if there were less fabric there. Less stiff protective barriers between them. They're Home, after all. They're Safe, Vex doesn't need to be wearing all of that. Just their masks, like normal.

Scar decides to be helpful with attempting to remove those layers so they can both get back to that comfortable normal.

Cub is so focused on starting his work, getting a scan of the cuffs to figure out what hes working with, he thinks Hotguy shuffling around is just him trying and failing to get comfortable on the hard floor. Until he hears the clinking of hard objects being set on the floor.

And sees Hotguy has stripped himself of all of his external plating and gear, grinning up at him while trying and failing to remove his outer costume layer with only one hand.

Seeing that his attention has shifted, Hotguy brings both hands to Cubs utility belt, trying to open it.

Cub, still baffled by this behavior, lets him. The belt comes off with ease. Hotguy then busies himself undoing the plating Cub has layered over his body, lots of fine intricate pieces to retain as much freedom of movement as possible.

Hotguy pulls off his tassets first, nuzzling the side of his thigh through the remaining layers of costume once they are pulled off.

Before he can move on to the many chest pieces, Cub catches his wrists.

"Hey." He asks, gently, as to not startle Hotguy out of this weirdly peaceful and touchy mindset and provoke a fight. "What are you doing."

"Getting comfy." comes the immediate reply, with a nuzzle against one of his hands where hes holding Hotguy's wrists.

"Why." Cub asks. His costume is perfectly serviceable to be worn over long periods of time, he has no immediate desire to shed it. Hotguy's costume should be the same, for all the long hours spent in it.

"Home. No need for armor." Hotguy is nibbling gently at his fingers now, occasionally giving them the smallest of licks. "Please?" Wha- How is Cub expected to say no to those puppy dog eyes, they are the most lethal of all weapons Hotguy carries.

"Fine." Cub breaths out a deep sigh. "But. Just the armor." He lets go of Hotguy's wrists.

Immediately, those hands are back on him, curiously feeling up every piece to figure out how to remove it. Cub takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and ignores the thought of those fingers elsewhere.

Home. That word rings in Cub's mind. Does Hotguy really think of this as- It's just the collar talking, right? Well, not the collar, this collar can't do that- But. Whatever Cub did to him with the other collars. Even though Cub had never Said that before.

This train of thought unfolds over the backdrop of his selfish agreement to allow Hotguy to divest him of his armor. He's- Cub knows he's not in any danger here, it's his own Lair, and Hotguy is clearly under his thrall in some way or another.

Then why do those wandering hands make him feel so weak? So vulnerable? Being without armor is nothing they haven't shared before, but- Cub shivers out a breath, when he can feel the faintest bits of the warmth of that touch, seeping through the fabric of his remaining costume.

Scar is delighted to be given permission to continue his task. His whole mind focuses in on the puzzle of how Vex's armor comes together. He's studied the way Vex moves more lately, since Vex was gon- No, none of those thoughts, Vex is here. Vex is here now, and that's the important part. All Hotguy has to do is tease apart the puzzle of Vex under his hands, his hand.

The pile of armor grows, and Hotguy finds himself savoring getting to the end of his task with more little breaks, more moments to lean close, to nuzzle, to breathe in ozone and chemicals and think about what it'd be like if he hadn't been forbidden to remove more.

Hotguy finishes with a proud little sound in the back of his throat, not having noticed the way that Vex hadn't made a move to keep working the entire time.

Even better, Hotguy has thought of a loophole! He leans his head on Vex's knee and sighs contentedly. His free hand? Sneaking over any part of Vex's costume he can reach, seeking an opening. He's not removing any of it, just. Looking to slip his hand under, to rest it on Vex's skin, always a bit cooler than Hotguy's own.

Cubs brain has come to a screeching stop. Hotguy is petting his skin. Its not the very first time its ever happened, Hotguy has pet his hand or his shoulder or his hair before, mostly during movies. But that was an absent sort of petting not this. This is focused and hungry. Touching as much of his skin as possible. A whole different beast.

A beast set on devouring him, if the look in Hotguys eyes is anything to go by. Had the kiss fully broken his brain? Had it fully broken Cubs own? He quietly queries a full system check in the parts of his brain that have computer hookups, to control his phase implants and wings.

Does a much more organic bit of introspection while that is running in the background. Or at least as much introspection as he can, with Hotguy's fingers still leaving burning streaks where they pet his phase cold skin.

He doesn't feel like his mind is broken. Or rewired. Then again, he hadn't felt rewired after Doc implanted the connections for his wings and phase implants. Or while he was learning to use them.

Was that even a comparable situation to this? Cub isn't sure, but he would not consider it to be. That was hardware. This is software.

A gentle nudge in his mind tells him the system check came back all clean. He's at 37% internal battery, 55% external, wing sensitivity set to flight high, phase fields ready, neural interface stable, no damage recorded to either devices. Good readings, especially after an intense fight like the one they had. He's got another half hour of phase time left, at least, and that's without dipping into external batteries.

He could phase out of the cuffs, now that Hotguy is distracted. But how will he explain it after, if Hotguy asks? He can't say the cuffs don't suppress his phasing, that would cause them to scrutinize him closer, and maybe develop cuffs that could actually block it. No, he has to get out as if he really were powerless.

Hotguy nuzzles up to the inside of his thigh, peering up at him coyly from under those sinfully long lashes, and there goes Cubs train of thought.

Not just derailed, completely dissolved.

How could he think about anything but those bright green eyes, with the way they are looking at him, as if they seek to devour him whole.

Or those lips, that he now Knows feel as soft under his as they look. Knows what they taste like, what moans falling from them sound like when he's licking between them to get to the sweet treasure that is the inside of Hotguy's mouth.

A mouth that is slightly open, with a tongue tip darting out to wet pouty lips invitingly.

Lips he absolutely Cannot kiss again.

"Stop this." He says weakly. No conviction in his voice.

"Why." Hotguy whispers back. So frustratingly, irresistibly alluring.

Again, Cub doesn't know what came over him when he fists his hand is Hotguy's hair and pulls him in for a hard kiss. Pulls him right into his lap, straddling him. Licking into his mouth, just like he envisioned.

It's still as sinfully delicious as it was earlier.

Cub runs his hand down Hotguy chest, squeezing those tits that have been taunting him from just beyond the edge of Hotguys boob window for years. Barely notices how he feels skin under his fingers instead of kevlar reinforced spandex, his fingers phasing cleanly through Hotguy's suit with barely a thought.

The chair topples under their fervent makeout, but they manage to stay on their feet. Hotguy, not to be outdone, crashes his back into the nearest wall, pinning him to it, and hiking one of Cub's legs around his waist, grinding into him hard. Now, with the stiffest parts of their armor removed, there's actual friction to be had. Cub groans, throatily, in time with Hotguy's own moan, at the stimulation. Humps his hips up into it to get more.

Pushes off from the wall, crashing Hotguy into the opposing one, just to get more leverage. Lifts his archnemesis clean off the ground, legs wrapping around his waist.

Teeth clacking together as Hotguy just melts into him, submitting so beautifully.

Cub bites his lip until blood flows in victory.

Cub now knows what Hotguys blood tastes like. That taste will forever stain the inside of his mouth. No other taste could ever compare to this nectar of the gods flowing freely from the others kissbitten lips.

No symphony sound as sweet as the ragged moans he was pulling from those lips, tainted in forbidden rapture.

Hotguy's fingers on his skin where there previously was only fabric on his back throws him off.

Has him dropping Hotguy like a hot potato.

What has he done? Again.

It gets easier every time. Cub can feel it. The craving to scoop Hotguy back up. How simple it would be. How delicious. How many nights fantasizing alone he could make into reality with hardly any effort-

Cub backs away, ends up dragging the mildly stunned Hotguy with him a couple feet, those damned cuffs keeping them linked.

Scar lays on the floor, head spinning. Heart pumping. Has he ever been so hungry in his whole life? Has he always been this hungry and somehow missed it?

When Vex stops dragging him, Scar sits up. The ghosts of cold fingers dance across his chest, his arms, his back. He wants to be the one to warm Vex up. He wants Vex to look at him like that again, like he can't look away. Like Scar is everything, the only thing in his head, his hear-

No, too much. That's too much to ask. Scar swallows. Tries his throat. "Got any leads?"

"What." Vex's tone, flat with possibly-shock.

Scar's eyebrows bunch in concern, leading him to stand. "On the cuffs." He clarifies, looking Vex over. Drinking in every inch more of skin than he usually gets to see.

"When would I have- No." Vex snaps.

Something's bothering Vex. Something's wrong and Scar doesn't know what it is. Doesn't know how to help. He wishes for mindreading powers, but even if the universe was feeling kind today, the cuffs would stop it regardless.

"Maybe we should take a break. Get a snack." Hotguy suggests. He strips out of the outer fabric layer of his top.

"I haven't hardly had the chance to start-"

"Snack first, then brain work." Scar says, more firmly, draping his top onto Vex, over Vex's shoulders. Maybe he mourns to see some skin go, but- Oh something deep in Scar's chest rumbles pleasure to see Vex draped in his colors- Not! That that's why he did it! No!

It's just that. A blanket and food are good for shock, that's all. He's just being a good hero, that's all. Just taking care of his. Of his. Of his Vex.

Cub is.. gonna need a minute here. With how rapidly the mood had flip flopped. He has no idea if the scan he started on the cuffs got anything. Really should reconsider making more of his lab equipment accessible from his internal systems.

Snacks. Snacks do sound good. Maybe he can sneak a top up of his internal batteries. He feels better when they are topped up.

Letting Hotguy pull him to the kitchen, Cub tries to remember if he left his snack charger on his desk or moved it to the couch. He hopes he moved it.

Scar slips his cuffed hand into Vex's, lacing their fingers together. That makes it feel much more natural to pull Vex toward the kitchen, when Scar isn't given any kind of a no. Which Scar is taking as a yes to snacks! Clearly Vex needs them if he's zoning out this bad.

The path to the kitchen is familiar enough. He's ended up in Vex's lab a few times before, for what Vex claimed were checkups at the start and end of his kidn- vacations. Who knows what they really were, but Scar wouldn't mind ending up in there more often. Vex focuses on him so nicely during them.

Scar takes stock of the kitchen, finding it less well stocked than he'd like, but workable. Vex is going to have to be his main hand, though, given the orientation of their cuffing. Well, he hasn't objected yet!

Scar instructs Vex on pouring some cream into a pot to boil, easy enough. A bit harder to correct him on how to hold a knife when chopping chocolate, but he takes it well enough. The cinnamon's old, but still smells good enough, and will make a fine stir-stick for their mugs.

Of course cocoa first. It's warm and sweet and everything someone could want in a beverage. It's also not one Vex has turned his nose up at before, which is a vital consideration.

Simple things, simple things. Scar digs around in the fridge, coming up with bits and bobs. Shark coochie board it is!

He gets Vex to slice some random cheeses and cold cuts while he lays out some crackers on a tray, and digs up some little bowls to put jams and uuuh maybe cream cheese? Probably. Into. He doesn't remember Vex having this many serving dishes before. Oh right, Scar adds a bowl of baby carrots to the tray, too. That's like a balanced snack, right?

"Good job." Scar twists so he can reach Vex's hair with his free hand, ruffling it. "Help me carry this." Scar hands Vex the mugs, and takes the tray, before heading to the couch at a deliberately slow walk.

Cub makes his way over to the couch, following Hotguy and carefully balancing both mugs of what he thinks is hot chocolate. The cooking process is a bit of a blur, with him still in his own head.

Thankfully, they make it to the couch with no spills. Cub sets down both mugs as soon as he can, next to what looks like an improvised charcuterie board Hotguy scrounged together for them. He is happy to see his snack charger on the end table, plugged in and ready to go.

Hotguy is fussing with the folded blankets he keeps on the couch, woven ones, not those synthetic plush ones that feel like hell on his skin. A blanket is awkwardly draped over him, catching on both his wings where they are folded against his back and Hotguy's outer layer still draped over his shoulders. He probably should give that back. He does not want to give it back, ever. He wants to stay wrapped in Hotguy forever.

Hotguy, who has put a baby carrot in his cuffed hand, and is encouraging him to eat it.

Casually placing his right hand on the charging pad, he lets Hotguy feed him more baby carrots, and the occasional bit of cheese and crackers, while enjoying the feeling of power singing through his cables.

Scar thinks Vex is doing better. Coming out of his shock. This is how you treat shock patients, right? Wrap them in a blanket and feed them? He's pretty sure it is.

Knowing that Vex doesn't like all foods, he makes sure to ask before offering new combinations off the shark coochie board, getting little nods and soft noises of agreement for most. Anything that combines carrots and jam is vetoed, though. Boo. He personally thinks that's an excellent combo.

Vex hasn't tried his hot chocolate yet though, and its getting cold. So logically, the best thing to do is to situate himself half on Vex's lap, and use both hands to hold his cup for him to drink from.

The first thing Cub thinks is that the weight on his legs is great actually and he'd love if Hotguy could do that to his whole body.

The second thing he thinks is that Hotguy is on his lap and there are several things he'd like Hotguy to do with his whole body.

But instead of Hotguy's lips on his, Cub feels the warm tap of ceramic on his lip. It feels natural for him to part them for Hotguy at this point, and frankly? The creamy richness is making a strong case for second best thing he's tasted this year. Cub Very carefully does not think about drinking anything else creamy from Hotguy.

"You're doing so well." Hotguy praises, in that warm and almost-soft sort of way. Cub's wings try to flutter, but he forces them to continue to lay flat. "Just a bit more for me, alright?"

Cub thinks he'd do a Whole Lot More if Hotguy asked him while sitting on his lap like this and talking in that tone. But yeah, he finishes up the cocoa being offered, reflexively licking his lips clean afterward. Hotguy seems distracted for a moment, before he leans to set the mug aside.

Scar, of course, decides that this whole thing is working so well, that he should just stay on Vex's lap. He's comfortable, and Vex seems to finally be relaxing some. "How are you feeling?" Scar asks, leaning forward to drape himself on Vex's chest.

"Comfy, actually." Cub is really fighting with his wings now. They want to spread, or phase into the couch. He tends to keep them out of phase when sitting anyways, as most furniture is not made to accommodate them, and they can get really painful and cramped, even if artificial. The habit is harder to break than he thought.

Having Hotguy on his lap makes up for it though. The deep, calming pressure, and the fact that its Hotguy. Who is currently giving Cub his full, undivided attention. Cub could get used to this. A dangerous thought.

"How are you holding up?" he poses the question back at Hotguy, who seems to be handling all of this surprisingly well. Too well, if you ask Cub. He may have to insist on a brain scan, before Hotguy goes on his way after he gets them uncuffed.

"Oh I'm doing just marvelously, don't you worry your pretty little head about lil ol me, and focus fully on yourself." Hotguy all but purrs, voice reverberating through Cubs ribcage even with all those barriers still between them. He wonders what it might feel like without them, Hotguy draped across him skin to skin, purring for him in pleasure.

Cub hates to break the moment. Does not want to remove Hotguy from his person.

But he also would like full use of both of his hands, and his phasing ability. And with his brain back online, after Hotguy so carelessly turned it to mush, he can get to work on that again.

"Come on, get up, I should start working on getting us free. And I can't do that with you crushing me, however comfy that may be." He pats Hotguy on the arm.

"I don't wannaaaa." Hotguy whines, like petulant toddler told to eat their veggies. "You're so comfy, and then I'd have to get up, and we'd have to figure out how you can work properly, it's gonna be a whole thing, and couch times are not for those things."

"This isn't couch times." Cub speaks levelly, feeling very rational and responsible about the whole thing.

"But what if it was nap times?" Scar wheedles. "Just the teeny tiniest of naps?"

"No." Cub says, gathering himself to-

Hotguy's lips are warm on his neck. Pressing kisses, taking little nips. Cub's train of thought is instantly burgled, hollowed out of all the valuables like good reasons and coherent words. Especially when Hotguy's hand manages to slither its way under all the layers of blanket and drape and everything to press searing-warm into his hip, as if that could hold him down on the couch.

"Just stay with me, a little longer. We don't need to do any of that complicated stuff right now." Scar whispers to Vex, between kisses. If Vex gets the cuffs off, he might do something silly, like try to make Scar leave. And Scar simply can't have that.

Also Vex's neck is refreshing and tasty, like a popsicle. A wonderful dessert, just for Scar. He loves feeling Vex's pulse race under his tongue, adores knowing he's having this effect on his often unreadable archnemesis.

"No." Cub manages to choke out.

"No." He reaffirms, when the first made Hotguy hesitate. "Bad Hotguy. We are going to get off this couch, go back the lab, and then I'm going to figure out a way to get us out of these cuffs, and you will let me, or so help me."

Hotguy actually backs down, even if he doesn't fully get off of Cub's lap. The puppy eyes were back out in full force, Hotguy even throwing in a lil lip wobble this time.

"Nu uh, Off." Cub stands firm this time. Partly because he does not think he can be held responsible for his actions if Hotguy keeps up the little kisses and nibbles on his neck like that. He may end up doing something he could never forgive himself for.

Shooing Hotguy off his lap is an ordeal, the man determined to stick to him like glue. Or an overactive puppy with severe separation anxiety, with the way he is whining and pouting at him.

Cub hardens his heart and pushes through. Hotguy would not be behaving this way if not for whatever residual mind control putting the collar on him activated, and to be able to safely take the collar back off him, he first needs to get these damned cuffs off.

He does realize that he can't have Hotguy just kneeling next to him again, that will just lead to distractions he cannot afford. But what else to do with him? Just for a moment, Cub's thoughts flit to the very first mind control collar he ever made. It would turn Hotguy into a perfectly obedient doll, just for a while.

The thought holds surprisingly little appeal, in fact, it repulses him to have even thought of it. He wants Hotguy to be as much like himself as he can be, even if it causes Cub major inconveniences.

That does bring him back to the issue at hand, though. Maybe they should stop by his bedroom here, grab another chair for Hotguy to sit on.

What state had he left his bedroom in? Was there a dissected project on the desk? Did he remember to make his bed this morning? Does that even matter?

He's bringing Hotguy to grab a chair, not some date he wants to impress. It feels a lot like that though, with the kisses and the way he's still half hard from Hotguy's... affections... in his neck area. He hopes he hasn't ended up with a hickey, that would be a pain to cover up in the office until it faded.

"Small change of plans." He announces. "We're gonna get you a chair, so you don't go causing any more trouble by distracting me."

"Trouble? Me? Never!" Hotguy sounds so offended, like he has never done a wrong in his life and cannot believe he is being accused of one now.

"You know exactly what you did." Cub retorts, already pulling Hotguy off to his room.

Scar follows along, still a little stunned by the shock of Vex calling him bad. Which he thinks should may not impact him this much, but- Scar shivers. He wants to be good. Just a teeny tiny bit more than he wants to get his way.

That's... Well, that's probably normal for whatever Vex put into this version of the collar. Scar knows he's been tweaking it every year. It's not something for him to worry about.

He whimpers softly, sticking close to Vex as much as he can. Which means going along to wherever Vex keeps his spare chairs.

Which is... a bedroom? A room with a bed, at least. And stars. On the ceiling. Almost familiar- Scar can't quite pull a memory of them together, though.

He does try to pull them toward the bed, but Vex just yanks him toward the chair.

Don't think of him as Hotguy, Cub tells himself. He's just. Someone. Some random person. Treat him like it. He sharply tugs, until he can get his hands on the chair.

Some random person pressed arm-to-arm with him like this would have his skin crawling off. It's hard to ignore that he wants to lean into Hotg- The person, instead. "You are going to sit in this chair and you are going to keep your hands to yourself, and you are going to Behave. Do you understand me?" Cub puts on his voice for dressing down employees who disappointed him.

This is just a business transaction, after all. Like any other.

Ho- The guy folds in on himself like a kicked puppy, but nods. Cub fixes him with another stern look, before picking up the chair and turning to leave, doing his best to ignore the way Ho-the guy stumbles and then half plasters himself to his back as he heads to his lab at a rather brisk pace.

Already Scar feels the gap between them widening, feels Vex pulling away from him again. That coldness, like before he vanis- No. No no no. Vex is here, he's right here. Scar forces himself not to stumble, to keep up. Leans a bit more heavily on Vex than he means to when his legs try to take this moment to give out on him, but it's thankfully only a brief spell of weakness.

Vex grumbles impatiently and only moves more quickly.

Vex can't- He can't just leave Scar again. Why doesn't he want Scar, everybody wants Scar!

No. Everybody wants Hotguy. Scar isn't anyone to anyone at all.

Scar stays close for as long as he can while Vex gets the chair situated, before reluctantly allowing himself to be peeled off. And then he's left with absolutely nothing but his own thoughts, as Vex does... something. Who knows. He could be taking measurements to cut Scar's hand off, for all Scar knows.

They're supposed to be archrivals. They're supposed to fight- No he doesn't fight Vex right now. But. They're supposed to be a pair. Doesn't Vex want him? Sometimes, in brief flickers, Scar thinks he sees Vex want him. But it always gets tucked away somewhere deep, always vanishes like a mirage.

The broken skin of Scar's lip isn't a mirage. He flicks his tongue over the small wound. That's real. Vex did that, with his teeth. It stings and it speaks to at least a physical desire if nothing else.

So why is Vex fighting so hard to separate them? Scar doesn't get it. It's stupid! Stupid and bad! Why does Vex need to get away from him so badly? What if he vanishes again as soon as the cuff is off, melting into the floor, or wall. Somewhere Scar can't follow.

Vex needs! To stop being stupid and awful! Stop paying attention to his dumb little machines! Pay more attention to Scar!

Scars hands flex and curl, and he ends up sitting on his free hand because he doesn't know how else to keep it to himself. It's not enough. He's trying so so so hard to be good, but he's not enough.

"Are you okay?" Scar hadn't even noticed the tears streaming down face until Vex's words pull him out of his own mind. Hastily, he wipes them away. Only to notice, his hand is free.

He is no longer cuffed to Vex. Scar bursts out crying, sobbing, face in his hands.

An awkward hand is placed on his shoulder. Vex. Seemingly trying to comfort him. Scar throws himself at him, hoping he'll be caught. If not he can cry sprawled on the floor. That works too.

Vex does catch him, hold him against his chest. Stiffly pat his hair and ask whats wrong.

Scar doesn't answer. It's not like he has one that won't make Vex laugh at him. Like that he needs to stay with Vex. Can't handle loosing him again. And he couldn't have lost him when they were still cuffed together now could he?

And now Vex has gone and taken that away from him. Sure, it's nice to have the use of his main hand back, but does he really need it that much? More than he needs Vex right now?

Scar is such a pathetic excuse for a hero, unable to function without the attention and touch of his archnenesis. Maybe that's why Vex disappeared on him. He realized how pathetic and needy Scar was, and now he'll go and get himself another hero to be his archnemesis. Leave Scar to be forgotten by the wayside.

Every sob from Hotguy tears clean through Cub's chest. He's never seen Hotguy like this, not even during his sniffly crying moments when a movie they were watching got sad. No, this is a completely different beast, something far worse.

What did he do?

Nothing about the collar or the cuffs should have done this. It doesn't make any sense. Has he destabilized Hotguy's mind that much?

Then it's vital that he get the collar off before-

Cub finds himself shoved down, a wild-eyed Hotguy standing over him, before he can do any more than touch the collar-clasp.

Scar can't let anyone take the last-only piece of Vex he has from him, his only ticket to stay here, not even Vex himself.

Cub is having difficulty focusing on what he was doing. The way Hotguy is looming over him, feral snarl on his face and wild gleam in his eyes has all his blood rushing south. This has no right being this hot, what with Hotg-

Pain blooms in Cubs shoulder, right where it meets the neck. Hotguy has sunk his teeth there, biting savagely into the flesh. Cub can feel hot blood running down from the bite.

The pain flares as Hotguy growls and thrashes his head, tearing at his mouthful. Cub fists his hand hard in Hotguys hair, squeezing until he releases, then yanking him back, ready to chew him out.

Again, Cubs thoughts are knocked right out of his silly little head. Hotguy, face smeared with Cubs blood, looks rapturous. Divine. His eyes are closed, mouth still open. Inviting Cub to lick the blood off his teeth.

Instead, Cub shifts out of phase, and lets himself fall through the floor, away from the temptation. It's the only way this won't end in disaster.

[jen-with-a-pen]

Hello! Welcome to my OFFICIAL Masterlist!

Here you'll find links to my written works and other odds and ends. I hope you find what you're looking for– and if not, feel free to drop in a prompt, some inspo, or an idea you think you'd like to see! My ask box is always open and I try to answer any and all messages as soon as possible.

If you don't like reading on Tumblr, don't worry! You can find most, if not all, of my works on my AO3!

Images edited/made by me! I do not own the art for the comics.

Please consider reblogging my work! Reblogging helps others to be able to enjoy mine and other writers' works! Help me help you help others and reblog <3

Spam liking my works will result in an automatic block!

Dirty Dishes

Bucky x F!Reader (CATWS/CACW time periods)

You and Bucky share an apartment in Bucharest. Some nights are fine, others are tough. Nights with storms are especially tough.

WARNINGS: Angst, Bucky having flashbacks, panic/anxiety attacks

18+ Impressions On the Inside of Your Thigh

Beefy!Cowboy!Bucky Barnes x F!RanchHand!Reader

Head Ranch Hand James "Bucky" Barnes has had a very, very long day. Only way to remedy it is to make you squeal.

WARNINGS: grinding, pet names/name-calling, making out, dirty talk, oral sex (f!receiving)

→ Fan Favorite on AO3!

18+ FOXHUNT

WS!Beefy!Bucky Barnes x F!Avenger!Reader

Not only has HYDRA successfully executed their infiltration on S.H.I.E.L.D., but they have also reclaimed their finest weapon. Your safety isn't the only thing that's compromised.

WARNINGS: being hunted, implied non-con elements, violence, cursing, blood, bruising, beating, passing out, forced nudity

18+ Chains Around My Feet

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader; established relationship/friendship and most of work is told out of Reader's POV.

Being held captive and experimented on definitely wasn't in your job description. After what seems like months in HYDRA captivity, rescue finally arrives– but what is rescue if not relief from the suffering?

PLEASE SEE POST FOR FULL LIST OF WARNINGS major warnings: graphics horror elements, blood + gore, whump, hurt and absolutely ZERO comfort, major character betrayal, major character death, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

18+ FILTHY, IMPETUOUS SOULS

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

Honeysuckle

Bucky x F!Reader

The adventures of one James "Bucky" Barnes and our reader, Honeysuckle, mixed with a lot of mutual pining, with some help from Sam 'Wingman' Wilson. No real story line, just a mix of one shots that might end up loosely connected one day.

WARNINGS: mutual pining, requited love, idiots in love, slow burn, tooth-rotting fluff, maybe a little angst, established friendship, yes this takes place in the Tower

This House Had Swing In It - Coming Soon/Being Rewritten

DEVILISHLY HANDSOME, ENTICINGLY BEAUTIFUL - Coming Soon

FALLEN STARS - Coming Soon

If You Go, I Go

CAFTA!Closeted!Pre-Serum!Steve x CAFTA!Closeted!Sergeant!Bucky Barnes

It's Bucky's last night before deployment. The evening does not go the way Steve, nor Bucky, thought it would.

WARNINGS: angst, loneliness, pining, closeted feelings, messing with canon

Dancing in the Kitchen

slightly possessive!Best Friend!Steve Rogers x Best Friend!F!Reader

Tony dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together again.

WARNINGS: fluff and angst, insecurities, verbal abuse and insults/language, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, emotions™

18+ ALL TIED UP (IN A BIG RED BOW)

Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

Inexperienced and still freshly-traumatized by his first heartbreak, Steve Rogers decides to finally move away for college after taking two gap years to work, save, and help his Ma around the house. It’ll be good for him. Away from his ex. Away from his hometown. He's excited to finally chase his dreams and begin again as a promising fine arts student at Richards College. Well, almost. Thanks to a generous scholarship spanning the next four years of his life, Steve is required to participate in on-campus Greek life. It’s simple: join a frat. They shouldn't be too intimidating. At least they're not as bad as they are in the movies, right? Right..?

general series warnings: frat bros being frat bros, sorority sisters being sorority sisters, manipulation, coercion, blackmail, fluff, angst, whump, explicit forced s3xual acts, slow burn, dissociation, nud1ty, dubcon (bordering noncon), forced drvgging, mentions of kidnapping, emotional damage, Steve's just trying his best, Bucky and Sam are major frat bros, Tony and Clint are somewhere I swear

18+ ALL WRAPPED UP (IN A BIG RED BOW) - COMING SOON

The Weight

Modern!Avengers!Stucky

Steve betrays Bucky in the worst way possible.

WARNINGS: angst, cheating, emotional damage/hurt, no comfort, swearing, mentions/desc. of vomiting

Coming Soon

Reading Lists

This House | Honeysuckle | DHEB

Fic Recs | Spicy Fic Recs | Not My Masterlist

OMEGAVERSE

DEVILISHLY HANDSOME, ENTICINGLY BEAUTIFUL

Honeysuckle Vibes

Hurt/Comfort

This House Had Swing In It

This House: The Swing Collection

Tooth-Rotting Fluff

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

@/natrace's Stardust Reblog Challenge Masterlist

@/flordeamatista's Jardin de Poemas Challenge

@/targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge

WHUMPTOBER 2023 MASTERLIST

[youryanderedaddy]

War prize

Summary: You get taken as a war prize once the barbarians take over your homeland.

Tw: nsfw, non - con, mentions of blood, slight corruption kink, size difference, slavery, deregatory language, degradation, possessive behavior, minor character death, spanking, mention of war

There is now part 2

Yoo guys, don’t worry if you voted for the other two options, I will write for them too soon enough. Anyways, enjoy.  

You weren’t supposed to be here right now with your legs covered in heavy metal chains and a dirty cloth shoved up in your mouth. Your friends weren’t supposed to be either captured or dead. Your side wasn’t supposed to lose against the barbaric tribe. So many things weren’t supposed to happen tonight and you were slowly getting used to the fact that your supreme leaders had failed, the army had raised the white flag high and you were currently in the enemy territory with slim chances of escape, with absolutely no memories of how you got there in the first place.

You could hear his heavy prolonged footsteps, the way the sharp heel of his boot dug into the rich soil and stomped all over the daisies and weeds just like he had done with your own people hours ago. He was getting closer to the tent by the minute and his shadow was growing bigger and bigger until the soldier finally pulled back the curtain-like fabric to the side and entered the tiny space you were forced into.

He was very tall, unnaturally so, nothing like the men in your tribe who, despite being strong and capable, were born on the shorter side. His face was rough and raw, his features symmetrical and fierce in their cold perfection, deep charcoal eyes, dark lips and a straight nose. The knight fancied his long black hair free and wild, letting it fall against his muscular shoulders softly, shiny, silky and healthy. In these territories the warriors wore very little clothing, finding anything covering their chest or ankles to be too distracting and suffocating during a battle. You tried to look away from his half – naked form but his upper body was sweaty and smooth, caramel in color, making it hard to look at anything else. In return the male simply stared at you for a few moments, grinning in amusement or maybe even satisfaction, and kneeled down next to the mat you laid on.  

“Hello, my little captive.” His voice was throaty and deep when he finally called out to you, a cunning smirk adorning his lips, giving him a sly foxy expression. The man reached out to cup your cheek and wipe away a tear slowly falling down, causing you to squirm away from his touch as if he held a hot iron against your face.

“Don’t touch me, you brute!” You shouted out before you had the chance to reconsider your poor choice of wording. The knight simply chuckled in respond and grabbed your hips roughly, making sure to dig his nails deep into the clothed skin before pulling you closer to his naked chest. You couldn’t help but turn red when forced to take in the warmth and firmness of his body – you had never been so close with a man before, much less your commune’s arch enemy.

“I will do so much more than that, sweet girl.” Raven whispered against your ear and kissed your neck softly, pulling your hair down so you would arch your back and whine miserably. “I won you fair and square, little slave.” He growled against your collarbone and bit down hard on the soft part of your throat. You couldn’t stand the hot wet sensations and you desperately wanted to get away from the warrior’s cruel grip, but you were helpless in your struggles, and even if you weren’t thoroughly tied up, you were still too scared to put up a fight against the barbaric male twice your size.

“You are so small and fragile, so vulnerable underneath me. I’ve always wanted something soft and pretty to warm my bed at night.” Raven admitted huskily as he tore apart your white satin robe, revealing your chest to the lingering glittering light coming from the gaslight above. Your pitiful whimpers were muffled by his lips slamming on yours and his wet slippery tongue forcing his way deep down your throat. The warrior was caressing your bosom, squeezing and fondling at it shamelessly, pinching and licking your nipples until they stood at attention red and swollen like cherries. “Such a pretty little slut, tied down at my mercy.” The knight moaned and slapped your breast lightly, enjoying the sheer look of horror on your beautiful face, twisted in panic. “I’m gonna make your tits bounce while I take you like a bitch in heat.” The man mumbled sadistically and slapped your other breast, this time using more force. “ I’m gonna make you my whore.” He cursed under his breath and lowered his head to suck on your neck once again.

Soon Raven got bored of playing with your tits and moved on to spread your legs wide open, pulling your panties down to your ankles. The sight of your sweet tight pussy exposed and displayed so wantonly was mouth-watering to the barbarian, and he could already feel his member harden painfully against your slit. You pleaded silently with your eyes to be spared, muttering quiet pleas, “no’s”, sobbing and clutching to the last bit of hope for mercy. Unfortunately, the warrior couldn’t hear a word, too fascinated by your luscious body and his own wild hunger.

“My beautiful little prize, all mine.” The man whispered almost affectionately, kissing you nice and slow this time, with his throbbing erection pressed on your entrance, inches away from your untouched virgin hole. “I saw you earlier today while you were tending to your parents’ wounds, pet.” He spoke suddenly, his length teasing your folds by slowly sliding in between your soft thighs. “You looked so precious in your desperate attempt to save them during the final fight.” The warrior continued, one hand coming up to stroke your hair in a sick yet comforting manner. “A sweet little thing like you shouldn’t be on the battlefield.” Raven kept going while rubbing slow circles on the palm he had forced you to open when you were clenching your fist tight. “You look so much better by my side, pretty girl.” The soldier placed a small peck on your temple, the lingering gentleness of his actions and the cruelty of his words making you sick to your core. You felt tired and overwhelmed yet the worst was still in store.

“I will tell you a little secret, slave.” The dark-haired male snarled at you and raised your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his cold black eyes. “I killed your father and took you all for myself.” He confessed in a low vicious voice, his scarred fingers tightening around your throat. The wet fury in your heart tangled together with the pain and grief of your loss, but the deadly grip around your neck forced you in place, still and lifeless like a doll. You wished you were dead just like your family so you wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation of entertaining the enemy and his twisted desired any longer. “Now I am going to steal your innocence and make you mine, little bird.” Your face froze in terror and agony, having realized that, by the end of his words, the man had already pushed his manhood into your tight heat, piercing through your body, unprepared for the shock and the pain. “Sing for me, slave.” The barbarian hissed under his breath and moved roughly in and out of you, each new thrust sharper and deeper than the last one. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken down so easily, but you needed a way to cope with the harsh reality, so you cried out for him. You chocked on your pitiful sobs, screamed in pain and whimpered miserably just to survive another second of this meaningless torture.

Raven looked ecstatic, enticed by your lovely moans and whines, your sweet despair delicious on his tongue while he claimed your lips and explored your throat. Your tight pussy squeezed hard on his length, milking every bit of pleasure out of it. His eyes were blacker than the night sky, filled with lust and thirst for blood, unquenched even after hours of slaying the innocent souls determined to protect their land. Laying down on the cold ground, sweaty, violated and stripped of your pride, you wondered whether you were just another conquest to the warrior, perhaps ruining your purity was his way of proving that he and his people were the new rulers of the territory.

“What a sweet little virgin you were, and now you are bleeding on my cock while I take you, pet.” The barbarian cooed at you cruelly, choking you lightly, not tight enough to put your life in danger, but enough to keep you motionless and complacent, just a hole for him to fuck into. “I am going to cum in your cunt now, slave, and you are going to stay there and take it.” The man announced sternly and kept shoving his manhood down your channel roughly, pounding into you relentlessly until he came with a growl and released his seed deep inside you, painting your walls white. Your pussy felt raw and puffy, pulsating in pain around the cock still buried in. He wasn’t pulling out of you.

“Oh, little bird, did you really think that I would be satisfied with having you just once?” Raven taunted you gleefully, a sadistic gleam in his dark eyes as he took in the panic on your face, drinking it like a glass of honey mead. “I fought for you after all, precious.” The warrior muttered slowly, mere inches away from your swollen lips, bruised and red from all the biting and rough kisses. “I am going to savor you little by little.” He paused to catch your gaze and held it for a moment too long before focusing on your mouth again.

“You’re mine now, don’t you ever forget it.”

[thithesandofferings]

“Open Wide”- Ogami Shirou x Reader

TW: 18+ MINORS DNI!! Dom!Shirou/Sub!FemReader, Comeplay, Choking, Voice Kink, Rough Sex, Praise Kink, Degradation, lil bit Size Kink SMUT!!

This is bad .

“Look at you Alan, I thought you said Purebloods didnt get Nirvalys Syndrome? Let me put in into you, before you lose your mind”

Who says stuff like that to the enemy? Ive never seen Shiro this angry before. Especially to say words like that. He barely speaks at all most days. Only when he absolutely has to. This should surprise me or- or stress me out but-

It's so hot.

Link to my Ao3 for this fic= https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414948

This is bad .

“Look at you Alan, I thought you said Purebloods didnt get Nirvalys Syndrome? Let me put it into you, before you lose your mind”

Who says stuff like that to the enemy? Ive never seen Shirou this angry before. Especially to say words such as that. He barely speaks at all most days. Only when he has to. This should surprise me or- or stress me out but-

It's so hot.

“Hey you! Look alive we gotta go!” Michiru yelled, startling me out of a downward spiral.

She was right. I had to get out of there before the place was destroyed to shreds. I could barely think. All I could think about was Shirou splitting that evil bastard's mouth open and putting his power inside it.

I couldnt help but feel jealous.

His wolf had such a presence on its own, how could I not be affected.

I needed to get it together, there were still people that needed to be saved. I shook my head and ran after Michiru towards Shirou. She was chattering excitedly, but I honestly couldnt understand anything she was saying. My eyes were on him.

He must’ve caught something in my gaze because he turned his attention to me.

“You okay?” His voice was gruff from exertion and I had to take a calming breath from the shiver that coursed down my spine. He caught that too.

“I should be asking you that Shirou” I looked away, but with a sideways glance I grumbled that he was, in fact, amazing. He raised his nose a notch, almost an afterthought,  and I could see him take a deep breath.

With his penetrating gaze solely on mine, I could feel my pulse jump and my temperature rack up a thousand degrees, I had to look away. He scoffed, almost smugly, and slid attention back to Michiru, who was still talking and running around. Something about having Shirou howl to the town.

We watched as he changed into his silver wolf form again to howl into the microphone. It was a beautiful site to see. Seeing all the animals completely stop what they were doing just to howl with him. Alan had no idea what he had been talking about.

Shirou had the Howl.

Michiro and I could only watch in awe. We were born human turned animals so we didnt have the innate instinct to go along with him. It was such an eye-opening experience, so much so that I felt a little empty at not being able to do it. Shirou looked so regal, the urge to fall on my knees in front of him was an encompassing feeling.

Shaking violently at the thought, I had to blow out a long soul-suffering sigh. Michiru glanced with eyebrows in an “are you okay” motion and I could only just nod.

What is going on with me? Where are my thoughts?

I had hoped that thoughts of Shirou would leave. The attention was of us and finally life was, in all intensive purposes, back to normal. Michiru was able to hang out with her fellow friends, and I- was able to start my work in the office.

Except, I could get nothing done.

Shirou was constantly in my peripheral, working on whatever case was in that week. But when he wasnt there, he was in my mind whispering in his growling voice about the things he could do to me.

I was dying.

There would be times where I would stare at a research book, never turning the page, just staring. It was becoming so hectic that Shirou asked if I needed time off.

“I know its been hard for everyone” Shirou had said. He had been in that leather jacket again. Who wears gloves inside? Why was it so hot?

Its not fair.

“What's not fair?” I looked up from his gloved hands and I could feel my heart rate sky rocket in panic.

I said that out loud.

His gaze is so piercing, it felt like he was staring into my soul. He was leaning on my door frame, completely relaxed. His usual bored expression was placed with something that was almost- teasing? Not that couldnt be right.

But it had been the same expression and mood for weeks now. His casual bumps and grins were so much that Ive had to actively avoid him before I had a heart attack. I wasnt in control of my emotions half the time, so any sort of embarrassment would make me change into my animal form. Even through his cold demeanor, it still seemed like he was laughing at me. I'm sure he could tell that I was flustered, especially when he turned into his wolf form. It always made my blood pressure go up and something slick slide down my thighs.

Which is what was happening now.

Oh no.

I prayed that he wouldnt notice anything amiss, but the world wasnt on my side. He lifted his nose up again and sniffed. It was as if he was trying to find someone miles away, but when he finally looked towards me, his pupils were wide open. Alert.

“You never answered my question.”

There was a hitch in my breath at that tone. That growl that Ive been dreaming about for weeks.

I’m so fucked.

“I-i uhm… sorry what?” I could feel myself blinking rapidly. I couldn’t get my thoughts in order. This was getting ridiculous.

“You humans are very odd,” Shirou rose up from the door, and for a moment I felt relief only to freeze when he closed my door.

With him still inside. We’re alone.

“You even more so.”

He walked slowly towards my desk. Well more like prowled. There was intent in his walk.

I’ve never felt more like prey than right now.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me” He’s whispering now. His gloved fingers gently spread out to the edge of my desk and he leans over it.

He’s so close.

“I smell you all day. Its intoxicating.” One hand lifts up and brushes my cheek, I know he can feel the heat.

“You’re the first human that I have ever wanted”

I froze.

Hes been feeling the same? From his expression and the dropping of at least two octaves, it was definitely confirmed.

“I- uh I want you too” My voice was hoarse from emotion. He could hear it just fine it seemed because if his pupils werent blown out before, they sure were now.

Shirou visibly licked his lips and I couldn’t help but follow the motion. He watched me watch him and he grinned, showing his fangs in satisfaction.

“Good because I plan to devour you. Stand up”

I could barely hear the order due to his growling. His ravenous expression was drowning me. I was swimming in heat and desire.

“I wont ask again”

Shirous’ voice snapped me back into reality and with shaky sweaty palms I pushed my chair away and stood. He never told me to move so I just stayed there. He seemed very pleased that I didn’t move.

Not like I could, I was barely able to breathe.

He stalked slowly around my desk until he was behind me, moving the chair completely across the room. It crashed into a plant and I jumped, still not moving an inch.

I could feel his breath across my nape and goosebumps coursed down my skin. I could feel him smelling my hair, breathing in the sweat that I felt that I was pouring out. I tried to move away, embarrassed, but I could feel his grip tighten and him growl at my into my neck.

“Stay still” He whispered. “You can be a good girl and do that for me right?”

I froze at the pet name. I’ve never heard him call me anything other than my last name. I couldn’t believe how it affected at me. I could feel myself become even more drenched.

He could tell.

“Oh? You like that huh?”

I felt his leathered hands slide slowly underneath my shirt and palm my breast. I gasped, my head falling on his shoulder at the groping. This was getting intense fast. I heard something tearing and tried to glance down only to have one of his hands press lightly at my neck. Holding me still.

Shirou shushed me, keeping his hand curled around my throat. Murmuring something about not needing this or that, I felt fabric fall at my feet and my chest became covered in hot leather. I let out a choked moan, only to have his grip tightened.

“You’re gonna have to be a quiet pup, you don't want all your colleagues to know what you're doing right?” He was so mocking, I couldnt help but feel flustered with how demeaning he sounded.

I nodded knowing I couldnt say anything in this position.

“Thats right, good girl, now go on bend over the desk” He slipped his hands away and disorientation readily slid back into my head.

I laid over my desk, paper be damned, and wrapped my hands over the edge to hold on. I heard him growl in confirmation at the act and I preened at the act of pleasing him.

I’ve never felt this way. I was completely ok with him taking the reigns. I didnt have many braincells left, I could barely think. All I could do was just do.

Shirou hands caressed my ass in appreciation, his ungloved hand (when had that happened?) made a purposeful track up to my waistband, hastily taking them off. I was completely soaked and hearing him swear obscenities definitely didnt help.

“I can’t wait to knot you, pup” I felt his weight against me, his bare chest completely covering my whole body. He was so warm, degrees hotter than his normal, his breath hot on my cheek as he licked my face from chin to forehead.

“The real question is,” he says through licks down my spine. “Which form do I want to take you hm?” I shivered violently at the thought of Shirou taking me in my wolf form. Outside of Anima city it is forbidden to have any of those kind of thoughts. But you couldnt help that you constantly thought about Shirou fucking you in his wolf form.

I could hear his deep chuckle at my spine. He knew my answer.

I felt him nose my wetness and my breath hitches. It didnt last for more than 5 seconds and I could hear myself grown out against the desk.

“I would love to taste you, but unfortunately we dont have that kind of time.” There was a zipping noise and I tensed, gushing even more at the thought of what it could be.

“I would need hours to be satisfied from your taste” He is suddenly in my ear. “But I plan to fuck you like you need it.”

I could hear myself mewling at the thought. I’ve been wanting this for weeks. I cant believe someone like Shirou even wants to touch me. Shirou, cool-mannered and distant, wants to fuck me five ways to Sunday is honeslty an eye opening experience.

There is a clicking sound and I gasped. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didnt feel the fingers. I could feel myself clenching around and my mewling became even louder. Colleagues be damned.

There was an surprised hum from behind me.

“You’ve been touching yourself?” All I could do was nod embarrassed. He cooed sweetly and added 3 fingers inside of me.

“What were you thinking about? Were you thinking of me? Tell me” I gasped in affirmations. I couldnt take it anymore. I needed inside of me now.

I felt like I was going to die.

“P-please Shiro, I need it.”

“You need what pup?” He grinned savagely and I felt something hard and hot against me.

I wiggled in frustration. Only to have him laugh and hold my hips still. Using his strength to make me stay still.

I was going to have bruises.

“Please fuck me Shirou” I whispered into my shoulder. I knew he could hear me. I felt my chest tighten at the gasp and growl.

“Good girl.” I shivered and gasped as he pushed the head in with a savage force of his hips.

“I wont hold back pup” He laid his furry chest against my back “You might be ruined for any one else.”

“I dont want you to Shirou, give me your all”

A growl was heard and then the most intense feeling of my life was radiating through my whole body.

He thrusted so hard that I could hear the desk screeching. The other colleagues, if they were still there, would definitely hear it. I prayed that they weren’t gonna check to see if I was okay. I wouldnt be able to speak anyways. I’m pretty much holding on dear life on the desk. There was no way I was able to explain anything.

Shirou didn’t seem to care either. The constant growling and heavy breathing that was coming from him was telling.

“Youre so tight, I cant believe all of me fit inside of you” He groaned and all I could do was tighten around him, which made him go even faster. There was a crack from the desk, but I ignored it. All I could concentrate on was the heat and his cock bruising my insides.

“Mine mine mine MINE” He stopped abruptly and pulled out. Only to pick me up effortlessly and turn me around, my back hitting the desk.

He entered me again and with that the world was crashing around me. I’d never come so fast in my life. Watching him in his wolf form growl over me as he pounded me into the afterlife, I wasnt gonna last long.

Seemed like he wasnt either, his thrust got more savage and I got louder. He took his right hand and placed it at my throat again to cut off the noise.

“Be quiet while I shove my knot inside you, I need to concentrate” It made me fall again, shivering while he grinded his knot inside me. He came with a roar, tightening his hands on my throat, cutting off my sound.

“Shhhh, good girl, you did so good” He whispered praises to me while he continued to grind himself inside me. He lifted his hand and I gasped dazed.

He looked up at me and caught my disheveled appearance and grinned.

“Dont move, I’m not done.”

I returned the grin.

“Good Shirou, cause neither am I”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Angel Bride

SHINee Pirate!Lee Taemin x Reader Characters: Lee Taemin, mentions of Choi Minho Summary: Unwanting to get married, you stow away in a ship called Shinee, unbeknowst that it held the sea's worse pirates and the most viscous captain, called Sea Serpent. Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Old-ye misogyny,  kinda graphic, fluff, smut if you squint, TYPOS cause they always escape me, etc.

A/N: once again i dunno how to write smut so ??? ALSO I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO DO THIS @skylions-den ASHDJEKSKNDMSOSOKSMSM and if pirate!taemin took you off guard bwahahHAHAHAHHA

The man gripped my wrist tightly, even through how weak he was in his fever. The man was thin, and surely if he was not so sick, he would twice more as handsome as he was now. “Are you a dream, angel? Am I dying?”

I knit my brows at the urgent, somehow demanding sound of his voice that contrasted to the expression he held. For a moment, I was confused as to how he wondered I could be such a creature, up until I saw his heavy gaze on my body. I found myself chuckling dryly at the white wedding dress clung around me.

How could I forget?

I shook my head, “No, I am stowaway on your ship, pirate. I did not want to get married.”

“Married,” his voice hardened, “To whom?”

I rolled my eyes at the memory and huffed, “Lord Minho of the Chois.” I think of the said man’s handsome face, broad shoulders and unmissable cruelty and discrimination, then scoff. “He wishes to tame me into becoming a perfect wife, or so unkindly put, a diligent maid.”

It was then that I found the sense to try and pull my wrist away from the man’s hand. I turned to him with knit brows and tried to soothe his anxiety over me, “I am only trying to help you?”

“Help me?” he chuckled and found a small cough in the end, “You are bad luck, angel of death.”

My face fell and I released a breath. “I already told you, I am no angel.” I tried to pull away again but with much more persistence. “I cannot believe with how high your temperature is, your head still has enough fight in it to blabber on about such senseless hullabaloo.”

It was then I finally got out of his grip.

I rubbed the captured area.

  Though he looked at me with such stark eyes, I continued on my initial actions of wiping his face with a towel and warm water. Now, how I got this towel, this warm bucket of water, and how I wound up in this sick pirate’s quarters are stories for another day for it is so unbelievably long and complicated.

I dabbed the man’s face with a lot more force than I had originally, just to put across the message I was not pleased with him. However, when he pulled a pained reaction, I found myself falling guilty and my motions becoming once again kind and gentle.

  I frowned at him and decided to speak, “You can throw me overboard, if you like, honestly. I have nothing to come home to nor to live for anyway at this point. Tell your captain I fear not death.”

The man found it in himself to scoff though I knew from how he sounded, his throat was not in good conditions. “You think the captain would pity you? Pah! He is the famed Sea Serpent, whose blades have slit the throat of his enemies.”

As he spoke, the man swatted my hand away from his face. I growled lowly and gave up on him wiping his face at this point.

I knew he meant every word he spoke about his captain. I had heard the terrible stories of this man who allegedly had only one eye left and one foot. However, I was only annoyed with his reaction.

Perhaps it was his soft and feminine features that made his words seem lighter, but I could not find it in myself to cower over them.

“Why do you treat my words as if I spoke in riddles, boy?” I raised my voice and threw the towel into the bucket.

“Boy?!”  he let out yet another painful scoff, “Women are bad luck at sea! You are probably the reason why I am sick in the first place.”

I let out a hearty laugh, “Ahhh, and I suppose your filthy kitchen and dirty handed cooks have nothing to do with it. Oh, and the fact your soup is made with spoiled ingredients doesn’t mean a thing, does it?”

“Ha! The food is rancid for you have cursed us, hag!”

“I cursed you? I suppose all thinking women are a curse to dim-witted men. Tell me, you leave your vegetables out to get wet by the water of the storm and rot, and yet you eat them! You should set them aside somewhere safe and dry.”

“The storm is your fault! The skies frown upon your face.”

“Alright, if that is true then explain how it has only rained two days ago and not on the start of our journey? If what you say truly is true, then the skies should’ve frowned on me since the beginning.”

“It is because you were hidden!”

“Hidden?” I laugh, “Hidden from what? I have not hidden that I am a woman once! And it was not as if a member grew between my thighs and fell suddenly, and now the sky is angry.”

  It was here the man fell at a loss for words. I find my insides smiling at his silence.

“What difference does it make a woman on land and on sea?”

“I get it, angel. Pardon me for not being learned.”

I pull my head back, “I am not learned! Women are not allowed to learn, shamefully. All I know is from experience. Everyone expects a woman to a good mother and yet no one will allow us to learn about the things our children might ask about.”

The quiet man looked at me for a long while, up until his eyelids grew heavy.

  “Why then, angel, do you help a sick, unlearned pirate?”

His eyes close in exhaustion and my lips part at his degrading statement. “You may be a pirate, but I am sure you have a family.”

He laughs, and suddenly his chest racks out a violent cough. My brows and hands rise in concern.

Once his barking subdued, he lets out a long breath, “I am an orphan. It is why I am a pirate.”

“… well your pirate ship will be one less pirate if you are gone. I’m sure they cannot like that idea.”

The man says nothing.

“I have always wanted to help the sick. My heart always bled for others and when my own mother was taken by a fever, I was determined to help those that I can and save their families from the heartache this illness brings.”

The man, I think, did not hear my explanation, as he had already drifted off to sleep.

It was then I stood from this stool I sat on and went to the other side of the dim, candle lit cabin. However, a hot hand on my wrist yet again held me back. “No, do not leave me angel.”

I turn to the man laid on his small bed and find myself smiling a small smile. “I will not. I am only sleeping over there on your pile of clothes.”

His eyes open and turn to me, “You have been sleeping in my pile of clothes? You must not have had a pleasant sleep at all.”

“Actually, compared to the nets behind your crates in the kitchen, it is far more pleasant.”

“Well,” he then shifts to sit, “sleep here. I have slept—“ “No! You’re still sick! And if I were to sleep there now, I would be sick too.”

He crumbles back on his back. I place my hand on top of his. “Sleep pirate, and gain strength to scare the storm away.”

“As you say, angel.”

As cold, harsh waves crashed against me, the memory as to how I wound up bound in the middle of this ship’s deck left me.

“A WOMAN!”

“A WITCH!”

“SHE IS THE REASON WHY THE SEA SPITS US OUT!”

  “How have you come here, witch!” a tall, bearded man spat in front of my face. The sea spat on both of ours. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. Though I wanted to answer him, the water gushing to me choked the words back down my belly.

  “SHE IS WHY WE’RE SUFFERING!”

“SHE IS WHY OUR CAPTAIN IS SICK!”

There was a loud and angry roar amongst them, and there was a defining statement that got everyone into a riot. “THROW HER OVERBOARD!”

It was then they started cheering and grabbed either of my arms roughly. It felt that my shoulders were going to give in as they ungracefully but efficiently brought me to the side of the side.

However the loud and piercing shriek from the crow’s nest above made the men all around me turn to each other in fear.

“ROCKS! ROCKS! ROCKS EVERYWHERE!”

They started to panic amongst themselves, whether to throw me out quickly or do something else entirely.

  Then, the sky cracked into lightning and thunder and a man emerges into the storm, instantly getting drenched in rain and sea water.

“UNHAND HER AND GET TO YOUR STATIONS, CREW!” he commanded just as sternly as the sky poured its fury.

The men dropped me and I cried in pain as my knees collided with the floor. I shook out of my binds and then a man went in front of me. “I forbid a hair be hurt on my angel’s head,” he spoke, grabbing my hands and standing me up. “Go inside and dry yourself up.”

I placed my hands on his face and felt his unusual heat, “But you are still sick, being out here is—“

“I command you!” he shouts, grabbing me by my shoulder and leading me off anyway. “I am not to see your face until we steer away from this danger.

  I was shoved back into the room I met the man who had some questionable authority. I heard screams and shouts from outside along with the sloshing of water and patter of rain.

I jolted at the sound of thunder and found myself shivering in cold and fear. I whine and try to dry myself, but only find annoyance in the heavy, damp dress around me. And so I pull it off and wear a long shirt I found in the same pile I slept in. The room was dark for the candle had already died out.

I moved around and looked for a match box, once finding one, lit the only candle capable of being lit.

  Moments melted away in tension and even more screams were heard from outside.

Suddenly, the door to his place opened, catching me off guard. The figure stalked to me, and when the fire revealed his face, I realized who the drenched man was.

“We have steered…” he starts, however his eyes drift down from my face. It was then I realized his shirt did not do much in covering my chest. I placed my hand on my heart and pull back.

“Angel…” he speaks stepping forward, “you look… holy in my attire.”

I open my mouth but find nothing to protest back.

His eyes turn back to me, but they looked at me in a different way.

“There are no more rocks that endanger us, angel,” he says, stepping closer, removing the boots on his feet with the other. My own bare feet mimic his, only instead of moving forward, they move back.

He then lifts his shirt and throws it away, revealing his lean and defined torso that made my face heat.

“What are you doing?” I barely ask.

“I am trying to dry quickly,” he says, still slowly walking towards me, “may you aid me, angel?”

“I—“ my back hits the wall, “I have no clothes or towel to give you.”

  The man places his palms on the wall behind me by either side of my head and I feel my pulse quicken drastically. “I am indebted to you, angel. By your hand health has found its way back to me. I, Lee Taemin, captain of this ship, the terrible Sea Serpent thank you.”

My brows raise, “You—you’re the sea serpent?”

He chuckles darkly, “Why do you think they listened to me then?”

“But you are no older than I.”

“It is my youth and wit that makes me so terrible,” he answers, lips curving, eyes turning to my own lips. “Never have I seen such fairness and kindness in one being, my lady. I understand wholly why such horrible men are drawn to your light.”

At this point, his face was a matter of inches away from mine.

“I wish to kiss you,” he says, “make love to you, and make you my own bride.”

  My chest heaves heavily at his words.

His hand travels down to my side, just above my right him and my body feels electrified. “Angel, you are deathly cold,” Taemin says in concern. “I can warm you easily, if you let me.”

My breath hitches, “How many women have you seduced before, snake?”

He throws his head back slightly at my words and once he turned back to me, he moved in even closer. Now his breath was against my neck. “I have never had to seduce a woman before in my life.”

“Then-“ I say, forcing the shakiness of my voice down, “-you should start trying.”

  Taemin laughs, “How then should I begin angel?” he speaks lowly and then plants a hot kiss on my neck, making a shiver run down my spine. He chuckles and peppers kisses down my shoulder, pulling his shirt on my out of the way. His hands travel to my back and push me against him.

“You taste like the sea, angel,” he hums. His fingers press against my skin and run down from below my shoulder blades to the bottom of my derriere. And from my neck, Taemin pulls away and places his lips on mine. In between his breathing, he moans out soft words, “I take your lack of retaliation as permission, angel.”

He then pulls away, just enough so his hands could then travel upward from behind me, to the side of my hips, to my rips, to my breasts and to my neck. The pad of his thumbs caress my skin and attempts to sooth the juncture by my jaw. His fingers that rest behind on my nap entangle themselves in my hair. “You are now mine to claim.”

  Swiftly, I was brought to his bed and laid before him like dinner. A cold gust of wind tickles my stomach as he pulls the cloth around me off.

He proceeds to scold me when hide, “Nuh-uh-uh, no treasure to be hidden from my eyes, angel.”

He slowly creeps up to me and plants another kiss on my lips His hands secure my thighs around him. I gasp when I feel him against me, and he let out a laugh against my lips. “My precious angel, I shall treat you with as much goodness as you have shown me.” 

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[lovecanbesostrange]

I have a lot of feelings about the latest Grey’s Anatomy ep “Silent All These Years” and so let me ramble a bit. I can’t put everything into well written and organized words, but I have to type something:

First off all, hats off to writer Elisabeth R. Finch and director Debbie Allen. Amazing work. The script is tight, tackles so many issues about trauma (related to rape/abuse) all at once, without ever losing the focus that is on the victims. The SURVIVORS. They are the ones talking, they are the ones the camera follows, no unnecessary distractions. We are here to listen to their stories and empathize with their emotions. As hard as it is.

That said, I want to get one tiny thing out of the way. I like how the guys are handled, that we do see. There is Alex, supportive husband #1 who clearly wants to do everything that helps, having no clue what is going on (being concerned, not mad). There is DeLuca, who catches on to what Jo is saying without saying it and from there on following her lead, whatever she asks. And we get this minimalistic b-story about Tuck dating and getting a very important talk about consent from Warren. That is really good, because he is the young generation, the one we have to raise to be better. (Warren could’ve thrown in that Tuck can say no himself anytime as well, but that’s the smallest missed opportunity ever. The sports analogy of a time out is so good and easy to grasp.)

Where to even start? Just to pick something let me go with how trauma is not an Olympic discipline where the winner gets a medal. Because they have all lost already. In different ways. And you can’t deny somebody their feelings of pain and hurt, because you have been hurt as well. It does not work like that and that is the biggest take away I get from Jo and Vicki meeting. It should be a common sense statement, something we can agree on easily, but we are so trained to look for somebody being wrong, for somebody being right, for a conflict with clear edges. There are none.

Vicki was raped. At a time when she wasn’t even allowed to think about it as rape, because she said yes to a date. (It always makes me sick knowing that it was only in 1997 when German law ruled that rape in a marriage was a crime at all.) She felt all the shame and guilt and was completely alone, because how to even ask for help? To hammer this point home we get Abby’s storyline. Who so randomly bumped into Jo at the hospital and so accidentally found a person who would not leave her for a second. (I know Meredith would have caught on, just like Teddy did. But Jo was in this headspace already, and sometimes finding the help you need is dumb luck and that is a terrifying reality.) Vicki had nobody to push her, to talk to. She went down the path of staying silent. And nobody has the right to yell at her for that.

But of course Jo is hurt. And she has to now re-arrange everything she ever imagined about her biological mother and the circumstances that lead to her being left at a firestation as a baby who never did anything wrong. Just think about it, with all the crap that Jo has lived through, the one thing she never imagined was that she was conceived during rape. That was too far a reach for her. And I guess that is in part because she herself had an abortion, because she could not imagine bringing a child into her marriage with Paul.

That bomb went off. Wow. Like I could already see some pro-lifers gleefully using this episode. That if Vicki would’ve had an abortion, like we advocate for rape victims to have the choice to, there would be no Jo. It would be so easy to fall into this trap. But nope, Jo then talks about how she was in a different, yet also desperate, situation and she did the best she could think of – which was an abortion. And I dare anybody to try to weigh these two things and tell me there is an outcome that won’t leave people traumatized one way or the other. It is so not a sport and there is no always right/always wrong answer. And that makes this scene, that is just a long conversation, so difficult and powerful and brutally honest. That is something that more people need to fully understand.

Vicki never wanted to hurt Jo. The fact she clung to these stories that mothers feel all the love and joy once the child is born – she tried. And I admire that so much. But then there was only more pain. For nine months she was reminded of this event, she didn’t even dare name rape and the baby that came out of it made this open wound so much worse. And how much do you think she hated herself for resenting a baby? How do you even start to get back into your right mind? The way Vicki talks about this – it’s a memory, it’s a thing in the past, and with one flick of a switch it’s all fresh.

Michelle Forbes does such a good job to show this. Vicki opens the door, her kids are in the kitchen, she’s open to whoever just knocked, she gets the mail and all is well. All is this normal world she knows. And one word from Jo, who is a stranger, and it’s like her rapist is breathing down her neck. That is a trigger. They just show the thing. (btw as always such a good Meredith voice over for the beginning and end to remind us about this week’s theme) Vicki has a good life, a family, a job where she helps others. And all that is taken away in a second and she is put back into the worst place she was ever in.

I like how both, Vicki and Jo, have a moment where they get up from the table. The way Vicki asks if Jo came to hurt her and that worked. So here is something I wonder about Jo in this situation. Letting out her frustration and anger that has built up over the years is one thing. And it’s clear to us that she doesn’t have a real game plan. What to say, what to expect, what to even get out of this. There is a lot of uncertainty and she lets emotions take over. But what does it do to her to realize that her very existence is a trigger for Vicki? When she asks if she looks like her father. A word Vicki rejects for his contribution (she is the biological mother, not a mom though, but he is even less – a point explored in the film [i]Room[/i], with a far different set up of course). That nameless TA, that raped Vicki, never knew about Jo and now she has to live with the knowledge that this connection hurts somebody so bad on so many levels…

Vicki just listens to whatever Jo has to say. And how does that feel, that the baby she gave up had no break in life from the start and fell for an abusive man. (This is also of note, Jo makes it very clear when talking to Abby, that she suffered through domestic violence, but was not raped, nothing “like this” happened to her.) Once again, a tiny bit of luck was all that was missing. Being placed with a good foster family at the right time and Jo’s life could’ve been completely different. And now Jo and Vicki are facing off, both with their very own trauma, that can all be traced back to one night. But it was society that failed them both. They are not enemies, but how to reconcile the different points of view here?

Abby is the story in the now that anchors it all. As sickening as it is, I’m sure if we just had that diner conversation randomly thrown in as maybe even the B-plot, it would be easy to dismiss. Jo being angry, a woman talking about a rape that happened over 30 years ago… but seeing what Abby has to go through, just to get help, is the reminder of what rape means. And it is not about some quick sex. It’s not over and done and here is what the immediate aftermath looks like. Without being exploitative. They show how invasive and almost degrading it is to get that rape kit done. Even with the most compassionate people by your side, it’s torture all over again. And in the end that is for the benefit of the survivor.

Those moments before, when Abby vocalizes her fears, how she knows these stories and how that damn kit might never do anything good and she wants it done and be over with it – I felt all of that in my bones. So, another kudos here to Khalilah Joi. Both guest actresses give it their all. But Jo pushes. Against protocol. Teddy does everything the best she can think of and I like how she talks about giving Abby the tiniest bit of agency back in all of this. But Jo pushing with the right words, putting it into perspective that later on emotions change and this is about having a chance.

I love how Abby grabs Jo’s hand in a panic and then they never let go of each other. You can even see Jo switching hands so she can close the curtain and so it’s clear she did that again when getting her coat off. Never letting go. It’s such a simple gesture, yet so powerful and the clear picture of not being alone. Jo saying “I got you, Abby. I’m not going anywhere.” It’s a lifeline and I wish we could live in a world where this is the default response to get from doctors (other people in general, especially those with the knowledge/power to directly help). This is all about Abby, helping her and never is it made about the rapist or even the exact circumstances. It should not matter that she was out to get drinks. And that she questions herself if she should’ve taken another route home…

The most striking visual is of course lining up all the women so Abby won’t have to see a male face. And more than that, faces of so many women who are all willing to be here for her, symbolizing she is not alone. On the one hand it is mortifying, but on the other Abby isn’t the one who needs to hide. She survived. The only thing she deserves is help and support. And so we get this scene as a heavy show-don’t-tell of sorts.

“It’s not your fault.”

This is not an episode about fault. The abandoned-child-seeks-biological-parent has been played out in very many different ways. But this is not that story. Jo’s anger is understandable. Vicki’s behavior is understandable. Abby’s reluctance is understandable. Three women, all have their own story and in some ways Jo and Vicki have hurt each other, are hurting each other, but it’s not their fault. Because it is very complicated.

Oh, I haven’t mentioned her specifically, Camilla Luddington is once again doing all the small details just right. I have to say, in the end when Alex walks up to her and she is somewhat startled, that was like watching her back in “1-800-799-7233” again. Jo is on auto-pilot flight mode. That hurts. One day she sits down with her mother, triggering her pretty much by existing. And the next she is with a freshly traumatized patient being the emotional support.

[dfroza]

Paul illuminates the significance of writing to convey thoughts

in Today’s reading of the Scriptures with the 3rd chapter of the Letter of Philippians:

“This is true righteousness, supplied by God, acquired by faith. I want to know Him inside and out.”

[Philippians 3]

It is time that I wrap up these thoughts to you, my brothers and sisters. Rejoice in the Lord! (I don’t mind writing these things over and over to you, as I know it keeps you safe.)

Watch out for the dogs—wicked workers who run in packs looking for someone to maul with their false circumcision.

We are the true circumcision—those who worship God in Spirit and make our boast in Jesus the Anointed, the Liberating King—so we do not rely on what we have accomplished in the flesh.

If any try to throw around their pedigrees to you, remember my résumé—which is more impressive than theirs. I was circumcised on the eighth day—as the law prescribes—born of the nation of Israel, descended from the tribe of Benjamin. I am a Hebrew born of Hebrews; I have observed the law according to the strict piety of the Pharisees, separate from those embracing a less rigorous kind of Judaism. Zealous? Yes. I ruthlessly pursued and persecuted the church. And when it comes to the righteousness required by the law, my record is spotless.

But whatever I used to count as my greatest accomplishments, I’ve written them off as a loss because of the Anointed One. And more so, I now realize that all I gained and thought was important was nothing but yesterday’s garbage compared to knowing the Anointed Jesus my Lord. For Him I have thrown everything aside—it’s nothing but a pile of waste—so that I may gain Him. When it counts, I want to be found belonging to Him, not clinging to my own righteousness based on law, but actively relying on the faithfulness of the Anointed One. This is true righteousness, supplied by God, acquired by faith. I want to know Him inside and out. I want to experience the power of His resurrection and join in His suffering, shaped by His death, so that I may arrive safely at the resurrection from the dead.

I’m not there yet, nor have I become perfect; but I am charging on to gain anything and everything the Anointed One, Jesus, has in store for me—and nothing will stand in my way because He has grabbed me and won’t let me go. Brothers and sisters, as I said, I know I have not arrived; but there’s one thing I am doing: I’m leaving my old life behind, putting everything on the line for this mission. I am sprinting toward the only goal that counts: to cross the line, to win the prize, and to hear God’s call to resurrection life found exclusively in Jesus the Anointed. All of us who are mature ought to think the same way about these matters. If you have a different attitude, then God will reveal this to you as well. For now, let’s hold on to what we have been shown and keep in step with these teachings.

Imitate me, brothers and sisters, and look around to those already following the example we have set. I have warned you before (and now say again through my tears) that we have many enemies—people who reject the cross of the Anointed. They are ruled by their bellies, their glory comes by shame, and their minds are fixed on the things of this world. They are doomed. But we are citizens of heaven, exiles on earth waiting eagerly for a Liberator, our Lord Jesus the Anointed, to come and transform these humble, earthly bodies into the form of His glorious body by the same power that brings all things under His control.

The Letter of Philippians, Chapter 3 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 13th chapter of the book of Jeremiah that continues with Judgment for idolatry and lies:

The Eternal directed me.

Eternal One: Go and buy a linen undergarment; put it around your waist next to your body beneath your clothes, but do not wash it.

So I bought the undergarment, just as the Eternal had told me, and put it around my waist. Then the Eternal spoke to me a second time.

Eternal One: Now take off this undergarment you’ve purchased and have been wearing around your waist, and go to the Euphrates. I want you to hide it in a crevice in the rocks there.

So I took the undergarment to the Euphrates and hid it in the rocks, just as the Eternal told me. After many days had passed, the Eternal spoke to me a third time.

Eternal One: Now go back to the Euphrates, and get the linen undergarment I told you to hide there.

When I went back and dug up this garment from the place where I’d hidden it, I found it had begun to rot. This garment that was once new and clean was now completely worthless. The word of the Eternal came to me to drive home His point.

Eternal One: Mark My words, for the same thing will happen to the pride of Judah and the great pride of Jerusalem. I will ruin these haughty and wicked people who ignore My words, who follow their own stubborn hearts, who run after other gods, who bow down to lifeless idols. They will end up like this rotten undergarment in your hands—completely worthless! Just as the undergarment clings to a person’s waist, so did I, the Eternal One, make Israel and Judah to cling tightly to Me. They were to be My people, known by all, bringing honor and glory to My name. That was My plan for them, but they did not listen.

Eternal One: Speak this word to the people as well: “Listen to what the Eternal, the God of Israel, has to say: ‘Every jug will be filled with wine.’ When they respond, ‘Tell us something we don’t already know, prophet! Don’t you think we know that every jug will be filled with wine?’ Go on telling them, ‘This is what the Eternal says: “I am going to fill all who live in this land with drunkenness—the kings who sit on David’s throne, the priests, the false prophets, and all the citizens of Jerusalem. And then I will smash them together in confusion and panic—smashing fathers against sons in the chaos of the enemy invasion. I will have no pity on them. My sorrow or compassion will not keep Me from ruining them.”’”

Listen carefully to me!

Stop being so smug, because the Eternal has spoken.

It is time to honor the Eternal your God before He makes the darkness fall

and you stumble on the darkening mountains.

You will long for the light,

but He will make the darkness deepen as the gloom settles in.

If you still won’t listen, I will weep for you in secret.

From the depths of my soul, I will cry bitter tears,

Because the Eternal’s own flock will be taken captive.

Tell the king and the queen mother:

“Come down from your thrones, and take a seat in a humble place,

for your glorious crowns will be taken from you.”

The cities in the Negev have already shut their gates.

There will be no one to open them.

The people of Judah will be taken captive,

all of them carried away into exile.

(to Jerusalem) Now look to the north and see who is marching toward you.

Where is the beautiful flock that was entrusted to you?

What will you say when He appoints your so-called allies,

the very ones you trained, to rule over you?

Will not the pain stab at you

as it does a woman in childbirth?

When you begin to ask yourself, “Why is all this happening to me?”

know this: it is because of the weight of your sins.

This is why your enemies will tear off your skirts and violate your bodies.

And still, you will not change.

Can the Ethiopian change his skin?

Can a leopard change its spots?

It seems just as unlikely that you will change your ways and do good,

when you are so used to doing evil—it has become such a part of you.

Eternal One (to His people): This is why I will scatter you

like chaff driven by the desert wind.

This is now your fate—retribution measured out for you from the Eternal—

for you have forgotten Me and trusted in the lies of another.

For all this, I will be the One who lifts your skirts over your face,

exposing you and letting others see your disgrace.

As for your faithlessness, your adulteries and your lustful ways,

as for the degrading way you prostitute yourself to other gods out in the open, I see it all.

For all this, your fate is sealed. O Jerusalem—how bad it will be for you!

How long before you are clean again?

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 13 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, August 26 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the sacred promise of being in Love:

“I go to prepare a place for you... on the other side of this veil; the place of my secret chamber. Look into my eyes before I go; see my heart's passion: I am aflame for you, and yet I must go; I must... There is no other way but through, through the waste places, into the darkest pitch, across that chasm... But don't let your heart be troubled, for this demonstrates my love and seals my word to you forever. And though we must be apart for a season, I swear I will come again for you, to take you through this veil to be with me forever. Do not lose heart, my beloved. I am coming soon; my hand is upon the door...”

Do you have trouble receiving these words as your own? Henri Nouwen keenly wrote: “There are two realities to which you must cling. First, God has promised that you will receive the love you have been searching for, and second, God is faithful to that promise.” You must believe the “yes” that comes back when you ask, “Do you love me?” You must choose this “yes” even when you do not experience it” (Voice of Love). You have to trust the place that is solid, despite the gnawing sense of inner emptiness and the inevitable changes of life... [Hebrew for Christians]

8.25.21 • Facebook

and another about being in Light:

In the Gospel of John it is recorded that Yeshua said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life" (i.e., ᾽Εγώ εἰμι ἡ ὁδὸς καὶ ἡ ἀλήθεια καὶ ἡ ζωή), no one can come to the Father apart from my hand" (John 14:6). The Greek word translated "truth" in this verse is aletheia (ἀλήθεια), a compound word formed from an alpha prefix (α-) meaning "not," and lethei (λήθη), meaning "forgetfulness." Truth is therefore a kind of "remembering" something forgotten, or a recollecting of what is essentially real. Etymologically, the word aletheia suggests that truth is also "unforgettable" (i.e., not lethei), that is, it has its own inherent and irresistible "witness" to reality. People may pretend or even lie to themselves, but ultimately the truth has the final word... "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:5).

"For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light (Psalm 36:9). When you enter a dark room with a lamp, the darkness flees and is overcome by the light. So also with teshuvah: When we turn to the Lord spiritual darkness is overcome by the Divine Radiance. In Yeshua is life, the light of the world; those who receive Him behold ohr ha’chayim (אוֹר הַחַיִּים) - the “light of life.”

During this Season of Teshuvah -- and always -- may the LORD God of Israel help us walk in the unforgettable and irrepressible radiance of His glory. May God help us shine with good works that glorify God's Name (Matt. 5:16). "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness' (יְהִי אוֹר וַיְהִי־אוֹר), has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the Glory of God in the face of Yeshua the Messiah" (2 Cor. 4:6). [Hebrew for Christians]

8.26.21 • Facebook

from an email by Glenn Jackson that reflects upon (A secret elopement):

August 26th

* According to My divine Justice, Truth must be revealed, in His Absoluteness, to the masses in this final hour. And, as the Spirit of Truth is poured out upon all mankind [through a Glorious Church] it will SURELY turn the world "upside down" - and only those who have made the steadfast choice to harden their heart against me shall remain under the "deceptive practices" of the Evil One.

For in these days, the knowledge of My Glory [manifested Presence] shall begin to "flood" the earth as never before and the Enemy and his schemes shall be put to flight at every turn. This will usher in a "torrent" of My divine Prosperity and Goodness [divine Favor] in the midst of My people that will lead vast multitudes into an "exact" [revelative] knowledge of My true Nature and Character - and, then, in a short while, I shall "catch up" all those who have truly aligned their hearts with Me and there will be a glorious Feast in Heaven for seven years.

THEN, after that time, we shall mount our final attack on the Evil One and his forces - and, in defeat, he shall be chained in the "bottomless pit" - and, so, shall My Dear Son establish the fullness of His divine Government in the earth for a thousand years.

...."For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words".... 1 Thessalonians 4:15-18 NASB

...."And a voice came from the throne, saying, "Give praise to our God, all you His bond-servants, you who fear Him, the small and the great." Then I heard something like the voice of a great multitude and like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, saying, "Hallelujah! For the Lord our God, the Almighty, reigns. "Let us rejoice and be glad and give the glory to Him, for the marriage of the Lamb has come and His bride has made herself ready." It was given to her to clothe herself in fine linen, bright and clean; for the fine linen is the righteous acts of the saints. Then he *said to me, "Write, 'Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.'" And he *said to me, "These are true words of God."... Revelation 19:5-9 NASB

"These will wage war against the Lamb, and the Lamb will overcome them, because He is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those who are with Him are the called and chosen and faithful".... Revelation 17:14 NASB

...."And I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse, and He who sat on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and wages war. His eyes are a flame of fire, and on His head are many diadems; and He has a name written on Him which no one knows except Himself. He is clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God. And the armies which are in heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, were following Him on white horses. From His mouth comes a sharp sword, so that with it He may strike down the nations, and He will rule them with a rod of iron; and He treads the wine press of the fierce wrath of God, the Almighty. And on His robe and on His thigh He has a name written, "KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS".... Revelation 19:11-16 NASB

...."And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, and cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be loosed a little season".... Revelation 20:1-3 NASB

...."And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away." And He who sits on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." And He *said, "Write, for these words are faithful and true".... Revelation 21:3-5 NASB

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

August 26, 2021

Our Rock: The Creator

“Of the Rock that begat thee thou art unmindful, and hast forgotten God that formed thee.” (Deuteronomy 32:18)

Just before his death, Moses predicted the coming apostasy of Israel in a prophetic “history” of Israel. Not only did his prophecy come true for the nation of Israel, but the same could be said for much of Western Christianity today.

Moses recounted the fact that Israel had been blessed greatly of the Lord, but instead of drawing closer to Him, they grew “fat, and...Forsook God which made [them], and lightly esteemed the Rock of [their] salvation” (Deuteronomy 32:15). The use of the term “rock” refers to the rock that Moses struck, yielding water to sustain them in the parched desert region. The rock followed the people on their journeys and provided an ever-present reminder of God’s marvelous provision. (If one should further doubt as to the identity of the Rock, “that Rock was Christ,” 1 Corinthians 10:4.) They totally forgot, however, the God of their creation and salvation, and sacrificed to demons, old gods, and to any new gods around (Deuteronomy 32:17).

God has given us life, and without His daily sustenance all life would cease. How foolish it is to attempt to live life without the One “that begat” us—who gave us life and even now maintains it. All too often the Creator God is excluded from our churches, our government, and our schools. Even many Christians live their lives as practical atheists, making decisions and living their lives just as if no God exists. Let us recommit ourselves to giving the rightful place in our lives and in our sphere of influence to “the Rock that begat” us.

“I will publish the name of the LORD: ascribe ye greatness unto our God. He is the Rock, his work is perfect; for all his ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity, just and right is he” (Deuteronomy 32:3-4). JDM

[monotype-on-phantom]

Another Analysis of Danny? Yeah, I Guess So.

Not too long ago, I stated that I headcanon the entire Fenton family as neurodivergent. This led to quite a bit of discussion, and eventually I said that I specifically think Danny has clinical depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder.

I didn’t really go into more detail, because while those are all things I myself suffer from, I want to tread carefully when talking about things like this. The last thing I’d want to do is accidentally say something hurtful.

However, multiple followers expressed interest in me going into more detail about why I have these headcanons. Since these are all things I actually struggle with, they reasoned that my personal experience would help me address this with tact.

So, alright. I’m giving in.

As a disclaimer, I’m not a psychologist and I don’t have a ton of knowledge about psychology. I’m just a dude who likes seeing himself in characters he relates to. This is going to be more based on my own personal experience than anything else.

Now that you know all that, let’s finally get into it.

To keep things organized, I’ll just go through each one individually. A lot of symptoms of these mental illnesses can overlap, so this will keep things from getting messy.

Since the depression was the first one I picked up on, let’s start with that.

Clinical Depression

My Brother’s Keeper is a good one to address this. Granted, Spectra’s MO is making people feel miserable, but she does that by picking at struggles the kids are already dealing with, not by necessarily causing those struggles (though she’s willing to do that, too).

I’ve heard depression described by others who have it as “the emotional equivalent of watching paint dry,” and I don’t think there’s a better description for it in the world.

Depression is way more than just being sad all the time. More often than not, I find it’s just a feeling of emptiness and hopelessness. When I’m in a bad depressive episode, I just stop feeling like things matter. Everything sucks and it’s not getting better, so what’s the point in trying?

Danny shows a lot of the symptoms that come with this feeling of hopelessness. He doesn’t eat or sleep very well. His energy levels are usually very low. He doesn’t have as much motivation to do things that he enjoys. He fixates on his failures and past mistakes and blames himself for most things that go wrong in his life. He has a harder time focusing on things, particularly in class. He can be forgetful and not notice details that might seem obvious.

A lot of these things are caused by his ghost hunting, but since Danny has made it clear that he doesn’t enjoy it, and every time he tries to take some time to himself it backfires, it makes perfect sense for him to feel trapped and hopeless.

Ghost fighting is one of the causes for his depression, not a replacement for it.

I’ve also mentioned that Danny is a really angry child, and anger can be a symptom of depression. When you’re feeling down all the time, you can become more irritable. Things bother you more. You lash out more. Even small things can get to you.

My Brother’s Keeper is, again, a good example of this. Danny’s lashing out at Jazz a lot, and even his friends notice that he’s taking things more seriously than usual. This is far from being exclusive to this episode, though. The Fright Before Christmas and Life Lessons both show Danny being irritable and frustrated, even though he usually still means well enough.

Danny even lashes out at Dash sometimes, someone that he’s afraid of, because he’s just too tired to deal with his crap.

Danny’s irritability was actually one of the biggest clues for me that he has depression, coupled with his tendency to degrade or blame himself.

As someone who deals with this, let me tell you, depression is exhausting. Even though I’m usually not doing much, the empty feeling alone zaps me of my energy. A lot of the time, I just want to sleep through my days and not bother with anything. I’m not allowed to, though, so I can get irritable.

Even if you don’t have depression, you’re probably familiar with this feeling. When you’re kept up late at night or you’ve had a rough day at work, you’ll feel exhausted, and that results in you getting annoyed more easily. Small things like people leaving the toilet seat up or the kids being noisy or people repeatedly knocking on the door will drive you crazy, when they’re usually not that big of a deal. You’re tired, and you don’t want to deal with even these small annoyances. You just want to be left alone.

It’s worth noting that Tucker, Sam, and Jazz don’t have these struggles, despite also being moody teens with a lot of pressure on them. They have bad days, but they’re usually more chipper than Danny (yes, even Sam.)

To me, Danny is a textbook example of a depressed teen. It’s not even a question. This kid needs to talk to someone. Unfortunately, he’s not looking to do that any time soon.

Anxiety

There are a huge number of anxiety disorders, and I’m still not the best at differentiating between them. I don’t often feel the need to pinpoint exactly what’s causing the anxiety. For me, it’s just when certain things happen (or don’t), the warning bells start ringing in my head and I struggle to focus on anything else. In a lot of ways, it’s like hearing that music in a horror movie right before something scary happens, except nothing ever happens. The music just keeps playing, making you feel more and more worried about what’s coming next.

The anxiety disorders I’m the most familiar with (meaning the ones I struggle with the most) are social anxiety disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and panic disorder. I don’t feel like I need to cover the first one much, though, because despite being shy and self-conscious, Danny doesn’t really panic when he has to be in social situations. He can be awkward, but he can brush off embarrassment easily enough and he doesn’t have an issue with badmouthing people he dislikes to their faces. These are all things I’d die before doing.

The fact that he can stomach social situations alright doesn’t prevent him from worrying about every other thing that could possibly go wrong, though.

While not as common as Angry Danny, Panic Mode Danny shows up with some regularity.

Public Enemies (and TFM, though I don’t wanna rely on that example) is a good episode to demonstrate this.

The town’s on high alert and ghosts are everywhere, but just about everyone is handling the situation better than Danny. His paranoia is warranted, but he can’t bring himself to focus on anything except for what could go wrong. He overthinks all the details and worries excessively about all of them.

Danny’s parents are at his school. Ghosts keep showing up at the worst times. Danny doesn’t even know that Walker’s behind everything or what he’s up to, but he’s not in the right state of mind to think about that. This isn’t Detective Danny Time, this is Worry Time. And it prevents him from being as productive as he could be.

One of A Kind is another good example, where Danny’s so worried about Skulker that he can’t even eat, though Sam and Tucker are trying to encourage him to. It’s not like the eating itself is dangerous (as far as he knows), but he’s too busy worrying to even think about eating.

He’ll also worry about things that wouldn’t actually turn out as bad as he thinks. He fears his parents dissecting him if they find out his secret, or Valerie not liking him if she finds out, or Vlad being behind every bad thing that happens, even when he’s actually not.

It’s not as pronounced as his depression, but when Danny worries, he worries hard and can even get extremely paranoid. It even starts getting so bad that Danny himself starts questioning if he’s hallucinating in The Fenton Menace, because his constant worrying and paranoia fit that explanation. (And that’s the last time I’m referencing that episode in here. Bleh.)

There’s another disorder that’s classified as a type of anxiety, though, and I don’t think there’s any point in arguing that Danny has that.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

This one’s far less about Danny showing symptoms (though there’s that, too), and more about the fact that no child who goes through the stuff he does would not have PTSD.

The symptoms of PTSD overlap a lot with depression and other anxiety disorders. Things like guilt, negative thoughts, feeling on edge, constantly looking out for danger, and struggling to feel happy or even to trust others are a few symptoms that can overlap with depression and anxiety. The difference is that, with PTSD, these things are triggered by a specific, traumatic event. And that’s where most of my focus is.

Danny’s been shot at by his own parents, hunted, tortured, brainwashed, threatened with experiments and even actually been experimented on (counting the cloning experiments), almost died several times, listened to his parents talk about wanting to dissect him, watched loved ones die (even if they ended up being alright), and that’s not even mentioning some of the other stuff Vlad puts him through or the fact that he was ruthlessly bullied long before any of this happened.

For me, it’s less a matter of if Danny was negatively impacted by all of this and more a matter of how in the world could he not be?

As previously mentioned, a lot of his anxiety and depression is the result of his ghost fighting. He’s paranoid about danger showing up at any time. He’s always trying to stay alert. He barely sleeps or eats. He blames himself when things go wrong. He doesn’t even trust his parents anymore, eventually believing that, if they found out he was half ghost, they’d dissect him without hesitation.

Heck, even the accident that gave him his ghost powers seems to have had a huge effect on him. He’s questioning his own humanity, he’s understandably afraid around a lot of his parents’ technology, he’s paranoid about being found out and not being accepted.

Personally, though,  I feel the show should’ve shown more effects. There’s no way he doesn’t have a fear of mental health specialists after what happened with Spectra. Is there anyone who thinks he wouldn’t have nightmares about things that happened in The Ultimate Enemy, Kindred Spirits, and D-Stabilized? How much does he remember from Control Freaks, and how often does he think about it? How much more does he let himself get hurt because he’s terrified of turning into Dan?

In a better show, this stuff would’ve been explored more thoroughly, but as it is, I don’t think there’s any denying that this kid’s been traumatized. Hopefully Jazz can get her psychology degree quickly, because she’s probably the only psychologist Danny would trust, and he needs to talk to one.

And I think that covers things well enough. I did also mention that I think the Fentons all show symptoms of ADHD, but that’s another can of worms entirely. Besides, this post is long enough as it is. I’m pretty sure I’ve been working on this for over two hours straight. I’ll just leave things here for now, and maybe I’ll touch on the ADHD in the future (if people are interested).

Thank you for your patience, everyone! And now I can move on to other things that people may or may not have been waiting for since this blog began.

[courtneytincher]

How to Prepare for Gray-Zone Competition

“Under present-day U.S. posture in the region, most American and allied bases and forward-deployed ships, troops and aircraft would struggle to survive a PLA salvo attack, and would be initially forced to focus on damage limitation rather than blunting the thrust of a Chinese offensive.”This rather ominous-sounding assertion from the newly released Averting Crisis study is not a new revelation. It has been the normal state of affairs on the Korean Peninsula from 1950, as well as a compelling state of affairs in Europe and other places during the Cold War. It is a new threat to Japan, where we are still deployed and organized much as we were during the Korean conflict. The fighting then was on the peninsula, and Japan was a sanctuary. Since the end of the Cold War we’ve become very comfortable with the luxury of bases as sanctuaries, complete with Baskin Robbins thirty-one flavors and weekly surf-and-turf dinners.Moving out of range is not an option. We should have learned, from our 9/11 attack, if not from Pearl Harbor in 1941, that this gambit is highly dubious. Nothing is “out of range.” Today weapons have global reach and have forward-deployed presence in every domain of conflict. More important is that our allies cannot change their geography. As a Japanese general reminded a Council of Foreign Relations audience a few years ago, “Japan is already under the Chinese [anti-access, aerial-denial] umbrella.” And Seoul, the capital of South Korea and one of the world’s largest mega-cities, is within range of a massive arsenal of rocket and tube artillery in North Korea’s Kaesong Heights, a clear and present danger. Our forces there, and the South Korean forces of course, maintain a “fight tonight” posture and readiness condition for good reason.China and North Korea have developed abilities to project power well beyond the confines of their geography, ensuring that any renewed Korean conflict will not be confined to Korea. This power projection plays a key role in today’s “gray zone” competition as a powerful instrument of coercion and cost-imposition. North Korea continues its missile and nuclear programs, regularly demonstrating their missile achievements in clear violation of UN sanctions. China continues to expand its comprehensive power projection with their Maritime Militia, state-controlled mercantilism, armed fishing vessels, PLA ships and aircraft and other means penetrating the sea and air space of their neighbors on a daily basis. China celebrates their “Guam killer” and “carrier killer” missiles. Surveillance is pervasive and ubiquitous, and weapons are accurate at distance.Bases are hardly obsolete. Our bases in Korea, Japan and elsewhere serve vital political and military objectives long before the master arming switch is turned on. They show our commitment to our allies and friends in a very profound way. As many know from practical experience, the presence of our forces in allied countries requires constant compromise on the principles of sovereignty on the part of both parties. This is hardly theoretical, and is more accurately a daily, even hourly, engagement. Policy and strategy of both countries have to align at the top, of course. But it’s equally essential that the continuous contact between our servicemembers and the local communities be productive and welcomed. Bases also are the only cost-effective way to develop, maintain and train forces in a forward-deployed posture. Bases also provide a cost-effective way to develop and expand alliance combined capabilities. This capability development within our alliance forces is critical if we are to integrate, in real time, the fires and maneuver of our forces in defense of Japan, Korea, and the First Island Chain.We are not obligated to fight from our bases, but we can. We practice operations under attack from air bases, and we’re adept at rapid runway repair and other necessary functions. An attack, even a surprise attack, is not necessarily the end of the issue. Readers of a certain age will recall our massive aerial campaign against North Vietnam and its forces. The result should relieve any panic that even a sudden salvo attack will force us or our allies to surrender.The study does make a strong point. Unexamined doctrine becomes dogma, no longer relevant to the problem. As technology advances, military doctrine and organization must change, or suffer the fate of the combatants in World War I. In that unlikely conflict triggered by a single assassin, the nations of Europe marched to conflict seemingly unaware of the cumulative combat effects of early twentieth century technology. Inconclusive stalemate, massive carnage, and the collapse of four empires followed, and war returned around the globe in a couple decades. The technology of our era brings more changes more frequently, even adding more combat domains to the familiar air, land and sea battlefields. Adaptation is critical.Advances in surveillance, weapons accurate at distance and other factors led Defense Secretary Robert Gates to call for our forces to adopt a “widely distributed, politically sustainable, operationally resilient” posture. Defense Secretary James Mattis expanded this concept in our National Defense Strategy, describing our needed operational force posture in four layers: contact, blunt, surge and war-winning. Contact forces are widely distributed continuously in execution of our “engagement” operations, competing in the growing “gray zone” competition. Blunt forces “delay, degrade or deny adversary aggression.” Given intelligence warning time and competent decisionmaking, these forces would assume a widely distributed posture across air, land and sea.The power of the air and sea threat means that we can no longer allow forces on the ground to await the arrival of the enemy. Battles will not be sequential. They must be integral to the fight for air and sea control. Ground forces deployed in compact, agile and mobile “company task force” elements, equipped with weapons capable of reaching out at distance, would integrate their fires and in support of air and naval elements in the fight to maintain air and sea control. These concepts and more are embedded in various emerging service doctrines. These include the Marines’ “Expeditionary Advanced Base Operations”—EABO in the inevitable acronym. This name was deliberately chosen to emphasize a return to the Marine Corps’ role in combat ashore within naval campaigns. The U.S. Army is rapidly developing “cross domain” and “multi domain” operational concepts in pursuit of similar goals.Much work remains to be done to bring these concepts to operational deployment. Distributed operations require distributed logistics, but emerging technology helps here, too. In Afghanistan Marines employed the K-Max twin-rotor cargo helicopter, originally built for the logging industry in logistics support. The single pilot was replaced with autonomous systems. Only one example, for sure, but it is an indicator of things to come. The journey to update our doctrine and organization has begun, but Mattis and others are gone, and every bureaucracy and organization tends to resist change. We can’t let that happen.Wallace C. Gregson, a retired Marine and former assistant secretary of defense for Asian and Pacific Security Affairs (2009–11), is currently a senior advisor at Avascent International and senior director for China and the Pacific at the Center for the National Interest.Image: Reuters

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines

“Under present-day U.S. posture in the region, most American and allied bases and forward-deployed ships, troops and aircraft would struggle to survive a PLA salvo attack, and would be initially forced to focus on damage limitation rather than blunting the thrust of a Chinese offensive.”This rather ominous-sounding assertion from the newly released Averting Crisis study is not a new revelation. It has been the normal state of affairs on the Korean Peninsula from 1950, as well as a compelling state of affairs in Europe and other places during the Cold War. It is a new threat to Japan, where we are still deployed and organized much as we were during the Korean conflict. The fighting then was on the peninsula, and Japan was a sanctuary. Since the end of the Cold War we’ve become very comfortable with the luxury of bases as sanctuaries, complete with Baskin Robbins thirty-one flavors and weekly surf-and-turf dinners.Moving out of range is not an option. We should have learned, from our 9/11 attack, if not from Pearl Harbor in 1941, that this gambit is highly dubious. Nothing is “out of range.” Today weapons have global reach and have forward-deployed presence in every domain of conflict. More important is that our allies cannot change their geography. As a Japanese general reminded a Council of Foreign Relations audience a few years ago, “Japan is already under the Chinese [anti-access, aerial-denial] umbrella.” And Seoul, the capital of South Korea and one of the world’s largest mega-cities, is within range of a massive arsenal of rocket and tube artillery in North Korea’s Kaesong Heights, a clear and present danger. Our forces there, and the South Korean forces of course, maintain a “fight tonight” posture and readiness condition for good reason.China and North Korea have developed abilities to project power well beyond the confines of their geography, ensuring that any renewed Korean conflict will not be confined to Korea. This power projection plays a key role in today’s “gray zone” competition as a powerful instrument of coercion and cost-imposition. North Korea continues its missile and nuclear programs, regularly demonstrating their missile achievements in clear violation of UN sanctions. China continues to expand its comprehensive power projection with their Maritime Militia, state-controlled mercantilism, armed fishing vessels, PLA ships and aircraft and other means penetrating the sea and air space of their neighbors on a daily basis. China celebrates their “Guam killer” and “carrier killer” missiles. Surveillance is pervasive and ubiquitous, and weapons are accurate at distance.Bases are hardly obsolete. Our bases in Korea, Japan and elsewhere serve vital political and military objectives long before the master arming switch is turned on. They show our commitment to our allies and friends in a very profound way. As many know from practical experience, the presence of our forces in allied countries requires constant compromise on the principles of sovereignty on the part of both parties. This is hardly theoretical, and is more accurately a daily, even hourly, engagement. Policy and strategy of both countries have to align at the top, of course. But it’s equally essential that the continuous contact between our servicemembers and the local communities be productive and welcomed. Bases also are the only cost-effective way to develop, maintain and train forces in a forward-deployed posture. Bases also provide a cost-effective way to develop and expand alliance combined capabilities. This capability development within our alliance forces is critical if we are to integrate, in real time, the fires and maneuver of our forces in defense of Japan, Korea, and the First Island Chain.We are not obligated to fight from our bases, but we can. We practice operations under attack from air bases, and we’re adept at rapid runway repair and other necessary functions. An attack, even a surprise attack, is not necessarily the end of the issue. Readers of a certain age will recall our massive aerial campaign against North Vietnam and its forces. The result should relieve any panic that even a sudden salvo attack will force us or our allies to surrender.The study does make a strong point. Unexamined doctrine becomes dogma, no longer relevant to the problem. As technology advances, military doctrine and organization must change, or suffer the fate of the combatants in World War I. In that unlikely conflict triggered by a single assassin, the nations of Europe marched to conflict seemingly unaware of the cumulative combat effects of early twentieth century technology. Inconclusive stalemate, massive carnage, and the collapse of four empires followed, and war returned around the globe in a couple decades. The technology of our era brings more changes more frequently, even adding more combat domains to the familiar air, land and sea battlefields. Adaptation is critical.Advances in surveillance, weapons accurate at distance and other factors led Defense Secretary Robert Gates to call for our forces to adopt a “widely distributed, politically sustainable, operationally resilient” posture. Defense Secretary James Mattis expanded this concept in our National Defense Strategy, describing our needed operational force posture in four layers: contact, blunt, surge and war-winning. Contact forces are widely distributed continuously in execution of our “engagement” operations, competing in the growing “gray zone” competition. Blunt forces “delay, degrade or deny adversary aggression.” Given intelligence warning time and competent decisionmaking, these forces would assume a widely distributed posture across air, land and sea.The power of the air and sea threat means that we can no longer allow forces on the ground to await the arrival of the enemy. Battles will not be sequential. They must be integral to the fight for air and sea control. Ground forces deployed in compact, agile and mobile “company task force” elements, equipped with weapons capable of reaching out at distance, would integrate their fires and in support of air and naval elements in the fight to maintain air and sea control. These concepts and more are embedded in various emerging service doctrines. These include the Marines’ “Expeditionary Advanced Base Operations”—EABO in the inevitable acronym. This name was deliberately chosen to emphasize a return to the Marine Corps’ role in combat ashore within naval campaigns. The U.S. Army is rapidly developing “cross domain” and “multi domain” operational concepts in pursuit of similar goals.Much work remains to be done to bring these concepts to operational deployment. Distributed operations require distributed logistics, but emerging technology helps here, too. In Afghanistan Marines employed the K-Max twin-rotor cargo helicopter, originally built for the logging industry in logistics support. The single pilot was replaced with autonomous systems. Only one example, for sure, but it is an indicator of things to come. The journey to update our doctrine and organization has begun, but Mattis and others are gone, and every bureaucracy and organization tends to resist change. We can’t let that happen.Wallace C. Gregson, a retired Marine and former assistant secretary of defense for Asian and Pacific Security Affairs (2009–11), is currently a senior advisor at Avascent International and senior director for China and the Pacific at the Center for the National Interest.Image: Reuters

August 26, 2019 at 03:22PM via IFTTT

[asryakino]

I know no one can really help. But I need to get this out of my system before I actually tell my dad off to his face and kick him out of my life over it. 

I’m trying. I’m trying to be responsible. I have had to give up on every dream I’ve had for the past five years, every minor dream has been shelved because I’ve had to drop my entire life to conform to taking care of my mother. 

Just over ten years ago it was getting bad. I had to drop everything and be home by 9-9:30, and if I wasn’t, then she would assume I wasn’t coming (no matter what I had said or told her previously, ,even hours before) and would walk to work. Something she would then use as leverage against me in every conversation about reliability. And something she would then use against me in conversations with others to -prove- how horrible I was. It didn’t matter if I was working or if I was out with friends trying to have a social life. If I wasn’t either constantly on the phone with her to tell her I would be there in ten minutes, in five minutes in however many minutes... she would declare me unreliable, her enemy, say I was trying to sabotage her job, and that I was intentionally trying to get her fired for being late. 

Note, her job didn’t start until midnight, we lived less than ten minutes away from her work. 

I had to make sure any job I took worked around her schedule, and didn’t start at 8 or 9, because she got off at 7:30-8 in the morning. But rather than come home so I could have the car to go to work at 8 or 9... she would, instead, “run errands” with no care about whether I had to work or not. I would be forced to call her (she wouldn’t answer) or call a friend to pick me up for work. At which point I would be yelled at for “not telling her I had to work” and “insulting” her by not trusting she would be home in time for me to go to work. (spoiler: she was -rarely- home in time for me to go to work.

Five years ago she broke her arm. Very badly, as in it was shattered into seventeen pieces. But her work refused to let her take off properly for it.  And so insisted she go back to work. Because she wouldn’t shut up about worker’s compensation and other issues... it’s a long story.

But it boils down to the fact I was working THREE jobs at the time. All part time. All on different schedules. But it equated me in working every day from 10 to 6 or 10-4 (or some combo of between 6-8 hours a day) 

Recall, she had to be at work by midnight 5 nights a week. And I had to make sure I was at the house before ten. I had to make her lunch, push her to get ready, make her coffee and because now she refused to drive herself, I had to drive her to work.

Except. She would laze around fucking around on her computer until 11:30, then yell at me for making her late. I would get her to work but her injury would only allow her to work until about three in the morning. 

I worked. Every. Day. For between 6 and 8 hours a day. I had to stay up until midnight to take her to work. I was then expected to do SOME housework when I got home. Plus it was the only time I got to myself. Ever. So I would try to relax just a little. 

If I fell asleep, I would sleep through her calls at 3-4 in the morning and she would have to get a ride home from her coworkers. Which would result in, you guessed it, me getting yelled at for being “unreliable” for trying to sleep. Before I had to go work in the morning.

I didn’t get days off. I had to work weekdays and weekends. I would pick her up from work on the few days she would work all night and she would INSIST that we just HAD to go shopping for this item or that item and it was “gonna be really quick” (spoiler: it WASN’T) and we would then roll (she in a wheelchair) around walmart at LEAST five times because she would go from one side of the store to the other. Exerting no energy herself because she was in a motorized wheelchair (or manual, which I had to push) and I would have to walk all over the store.

Then I would be late to work. Or call in for a later shift. EVERY TIME because of her forcing me to be late.

I had to make sure I was in a job that was just flexible enough I could do this because for FIVE YEARS this was my life. 

I would get three hours of sleep, if I was lucky, and then bee forced for function for eighteen hours straight. With the vague hope I would get a full night instead of an hour and a half nap. 

Mostly I would sleep 90 minutes at a time in the night. I actually forcibly adjusted my sleep cycles in order to accommodate her wants.  I suffered mentally, emotionally, and physically for taking care of her. And I continue to do so, even after she was fired for being racist. 

Ever since she was fired I now have to take care of her 24/7. If I begin to clean, she goes into panic attacks. So I can ONLY clean if she’s not in the house. Which is never. I can only do dishes when she isn’t looking. Which means when she’s asleep. 

Which is better than when she would do dishes, which would be at three in the morning, loudly banging the dishes together and clattering everything (while refusing to use the dishwasher. Ever.) Then yelling at me for not getting them done.

She would do THAT on days I would outright say “By the way, I’m doing the dishes in the morning when I wake up, so lemme get to it.”  4 am rolls around *BANG CLATTER BLASH CRASH CLATTER BANG* Of her smashing pots and pans and plates together while doing dishes, then cussing at me and yelling at me for not getting them done and FORCING her to do them.

I woke up in a bad mood nearly every day. I LIVED in a black cloud of anger, frustration and impotence. Because there was, and still is NOTHING I can do about this. I physically can’t leave. I emotionally can’t leave, and because of several mental disorders (now dialed up to eleven because of her most recent years)  I simply CAN’T leave. 

I’ve been left with the inability to deal with customers, I’m not physically able to work in a factory setting, and I can’t emotionally, physically, or mentally handle the stress of any customer, food service, or factory employment. 

I’ve been trying, for the past year, to try to take care of myself. When my suicidal thoughts turned closer and closer to sucidial actions... I realized I had to stop. I had to, or I was going to break down, take every pill I could get a hold of, and possibly blow my own brains out with one of the guns in the house. All to escape the existence that has become my life. 

I’m trapped here. I can’t have a job because it would give ME support, and therefore, my mother would ensure that I would never be allowed to keep it. As demonstrated with my last job. In which she insisted she couldn’t stay at the house by herself.

Note: my last job was at a store she liked to go to. And so she would shop all day, bug me at work, stop me from working in order to talk to me and ask me to do things for her specifically... and use me and my position at the store to shop. While I was forced to cover her bills  with my paycheque. Essentially in the end I was paying thee store to work there because of her. 

She hordes. The house is full of junk, broken shit, and useless items with no purpose but to take up space. And I’m not allowed to throw them out or sell what’s useful but not being used. Constant ‘gifts’ from the store I WORKED AT of items I didn’t want but had only looked at and marveled at them being ‘neat’ or ‘interesting’. That was her way of making it up to me. To buy me shit I didn’t ask for, need, or want. 

And when I would ask for something specific, she would buy the shitty knock off version that wasn’t right, didn’t work, or didn’t fit. 

I’ve been out of work for a year now. Hanging onto one job that contracts me to work on weekends 3-5 times a year handing out phamplets and freebies. 

It’s not good enough for my dad. Who has taken to trying to force me into working in a factory (I can’t physically do factory work) and has been bitching at me that I need to be responsible. 

Except. I’ve tried. No where will hire me. I don’t pass their personality quizes, I don’t pass their interviews. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. But whatever it is, even Walmart won’t hire me. On top of that, Mom’s health has degraded to the point dementia has been setting in. And no one will listen to me when I tell them it has.  She has spent my entire life making everyone around us believe that I am a lazy, entitled, expensive child who lies, or has no memory for anything. And who obviously only wants her for her money, and not out of love or respect. 

She has gaslighted me my entire life so that, until recently, I BELIEVED HER. I thought I really couldn’t remember things right. That No matter what I thought it was wrong. Until I realized that she’s been lying. That she’s been lying for nearly my entire life. 

I finally had proof that I had told her one thing, and she insisted that no, I had said something different. And this became constant. I noticed it, I realized it, and while no one else will believe me now because she’s manipulated them into thinking I’m some kind of selfish idiot... I know I’m not. I’m FINALLY starting to get better. 

And here comes my dad. A man who abused me as a kid, went to jail, and I have been feeling guilty about the fact his later life has been ruined because my family convinced me it was My FAULT he went to jail. That it was MY FAULT that he couldn’t get a good job. 

He’s finally mouthed off to me about not having a job, reefusing to understand the circumstances I’m currently living under and why I can’t have a full time or even part time job, and I’ve finally snapped and come to the realization that no. It isn’t my fault.

It’s his fault. His choices have gotten him to the position he’s in now. His choices wrecked his future. His choices to do the things he did have affected him now. He’s sick, and dying, and I will cry more for him than I will for her. But I am not responsible for his situation. 

But he, and his generation, and her and her generation ARE responsible for the situation -I- am currently in. There are a lot of things that are strictly my fault and my choices. I accept that. But the environment created around me, the abuse I’ve been suffering for over a decade at HER hands and the distance HE put between me and himself.... no. That wasn’t my choice, that wasn’t my fault. 

And he can fuck off with his bullshit and calling every attempt I make shit. 

[clubofinfo]

Expert: In terms of suffering caused, there is often not, in fact, much to choose between dismembering and burning people alive with high explosives, shredding them with shrapnel, and choking them with poison gas. Modern ‘conventional’ weapons can be far more cruel and devastating than, for example, chlorine gas. But chemical weapons, prohibited by international law, are extremely potent in allowing Western ‘humanitarians’ to justify ‘intervention’ in response to crimes – real, hyped or imagined – that the West has itself far surpassed using more respectable forms of mass murder. Noam Chomsky has observed that ‘propaganda is to a democracy what the bludgeon is to a totalitarian state’. This is certainly true for social control at home, but propaganda also allows nominally democratic states to wield their military bludgeons abroad in much the same way as totalitarian states. Thus, in April, it happened again: the entire corporate media system rose up with instant certainty to damn an enemy state for crimes against humanity on April 7, in Douma, Syria. This was not acceptable death by bomb and bullet; this was a nerve gas attack. The villainous agent on every journalist’s lips: sarin, a highly toxic synthetic organophosphorus compound that has no smell or taste, but which quickly kills through asphyxiation. As we discussed at the time, there was no question that this was a repetition of the fake justification for war to secure non-existent Iraqi WMDs, or to prevent a fictional Libyan massacre in Benghazi. Instead, the Guardian editors insisted that this certainly was ‘a chemical gas attack, orchestrated by Bashar al-Assad, that left dead children foaming at the mouth’. From the safety of his Guardian office, assistant editor Simon Tisdall hammered the drum for a war that risked even nuclear confrontation: ‘It means destroying Assad’s combat planes, bombers, helicopters and ground facilities from the air. It means challenging Assad’s and Russia’s control of Syrian airspace. It means taking out Iranian military bases and batteries in Syria if they are used to prosecute the war.’ By contrast, Scott Ritter – a former chief UN weapons inspector in Iraq who understands the issues – was more cautious: ‘The bottom line, however, is that the United States is threatening to go to war in Syria over allegations of chemical weapons usage for which no factual evidence has been provided. This act is occurring even as the possibility remains that verifiable forensic investigations would, at a minimum, confirm the presence of chemical weapons…’ No matter, on April 14, three days after Ritter’s article appeared, the US, UK and France attacked Syria in response to the unproven allegations. Robert Fisk of the Independent visited Douma and spoke to a senior doctor who works in the clinic where victims of the alleged chemical attack had been brought for treatment. Dr Rahaibani told Fisk what had happened that night: ‘I was with my family in the basement of my home three hundred metres from here on the night but all the doctors know what happened. There was a lot of shelling [by government forces] and aircraft were always over Douma at night – but on this night, there was wind and huge dust clouds began to come into the basements and cellars where people lived. People began to arrive here suffering from hypoxia, oxygen loss. Then someone at the door, a “White Helmet”, shouted “Gas!”, and a panic began. People started throwing water over each other. Yes, the video was filmed here, it is genuine, but what you see are people suffering from hypoxia – not gas poisoning.’ When Fisk’s report wasn’t ignored, it was sneeringly dismissed. A headline in The Times read: ‘Critics leap on reporter Robert Fisk’s failure to find signs of gas attack’ The Times, which is no stranger to controversy, suggested that there were big question marks over Fisk’s record: ‘Fisk is no stranger to controversy.’  No Organophosphates Found On 6 July 2018, the Fact-Finding Mission (FFM) of the Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW), issued an interim report on the FFM’s investigation regarding the allegations of chemical weapons use in Douma. The passage that jumped out of the report: ‘No organophosphorus nerve agents or their degradation products were detected, either in the environmental samples or in plasma samples from the alleged casualties.’ No sarin! But is it possible that any nerve agents had degraded and disappeared before OPCW investigators reached the site? An April 17, Guardian article had reported: ‘The OPCW has been racing against the clock to collect samples from the site of the attack, a three-storey house in Douma, in which scores of people died in a basement. Jerry Smith, who helped supervise the OPCW-led withdrawal of much of Syria’s sarin stockpile in 2013, said samples of nerve agent rapidly degrade in normal environmental conditions… The Russian military and Syrian officers have had access to the house since last Thursday, raising fears that the site may have been tampered with. However, Smith said it was likely that residual samples of nerve agent would remain for at least another week, even after an attempted clean-up.’ The OPCW later commented: ‘On 21 April 2018, after security concerns had been addressed, the FFM team conducted its first visit to one of the alleged sites of interest, and it was deemed an acceptable risk to enter Douma…’ In other words, OPCW’s race ‘against the clock’ appeared to have been successful. Charles Shoebridge a former Scotland Yard detective and counter terrorism intelligence officer, observed: ‘if OPCW find no traces, likely not due to any inspection delay’ Before we examine ‘MSM’ reaction to the OPCW report, particularly to the failure to find ‘organophosphorus nerve agents or their degradation products’, let’s look at their initial reaction to claims of a nerve agent attack on April 7. Initial Response: ‘Those Symptoms Don’t Come From Chlorine’ CNN reported on April 14: ‘Senior US officials expressed confidence Saturday that both chlorine and sarin gas were used in Syria’s alleged chemical weapons attack on the Damascus enclave of Douma last week…’ CNN cited reports ‘from media, nongovernmental organizations and other open sources’ that ‘point to miosis – constricted pupils – convulsions and disruptions to central nervous systems. Those symptoms don’t come from chlorine. They come from nerve agents… It’s a much more efficient weapon, unfortunately, the way the regime has been using it, and it’s resulted in higher deaths, it resulted in terrible pictures.’ The Financial Times cited Hamish de Bretton-Gordon, a former commanding officer of the UK’s chemical biological radiological and nuclear regiment (see here on his credibility as an impartial source): ‘There’s no doubt this was a major chemical weapons attack. The big question is whether it was chlorine or sarin. I am favouring a mix of the two.’1 A Telegraph article opened with this harrowing line: ‘The victims were found exactly where they had been when the gas hit. Their silent killer had given little warning.’ This clearly suggested a very powerful nerve agent, as the article explained: ‘Medics on the ground reported smelling a chlorine-like substance, but said the patients’ symptoms and the large death toll pointed to a more noxious substance such as nerve agent sarin. ‘”The number of casualties is so high and that’s not typical for chlorine,” said Dr Ahmad Tarakji, president of the Syrian American Medical Society (SAMS), which assists hospitals in Eastern Ghouta. “Unfortunately, because of a lack of resources, we can’t take blood samples.”‘ The claims did indeed suggest something much more powerful than chlorine, as The Daily Mail made clear in a report also citing de Bretton-Gordon: ‘If it was chlorine, they could have escaped. But they died after just taking a few steps.’2 The Mail cited an ‘activist’ making the same point: ‘Ibrahim Reyhani, a White Helmet civil defence volunteer, said anyone who touched the bodies started getting sick, and said he believed a mixture of sarin and chlorine had been used. ‘He told the Sunday Times: “If it’s just chlorine, if you smell it you can escape. But sarin you breathe and it kills you.” The Telegraph published an op-ed by de Bretton-Gordon: ‘There have been a number of chlorine attacks, but it would appear that chlorine, although outlawed by the Chemical Weapons Convention, is below the threshold for the UK and France to strike. ‘Saturday’s attack, with so many deaths and casualties, looks possibly to be a mixture of chlorine and the nerve agent sarin, and this atrocity must surely stretch above their threshold for action.’ It is worth reiterating again – as media responses to the OPCW’s latest report, conspicuously, have not – that chlorine was not a sufficiently deadly agent to cause either the claimed level of carnage or the claimed level of Western moral outrage. In 2015, Barack Obama noted: ‘Chlorine itself, historically, has not been listed as a chemical weapon.’ Charles Shoebridge commented: ‘while headlines of chemical weapons are undoubtedly dramatic, the relatively low lethality of chlorine makes it an ineffective – and therefore arguably also unlikely – choice of weapon… ‘Indeed, given the low toxicity of the allegedly small amounts used and the unpleasant bleach smell that always betrays chlorine’s presence, in most instances people could avoid being killed by simply walking away – another indication of its near uselessness as a weapon. Perhaps the only way it could be tactically effective is if used to drive people from trenches or bunkers to allow them to then be killed with bombs and bullets – but again, the amounts of chlorine needed would be far more than is alleged, and the accuracy needed to target in this way is unlikely to be achieved using unguided rockets as alleged this week in east Ghouta, or by dropping a “barrel bomb” from a helicopter.’ Chlorine gas was not included in the list of Syrian chemical weapons reported to the OPCW. It is an unsophisticated weapon that could also be deployed by ‘rebel’ forces and to which they have had access. The OPCW reported in August 2016: ‘Chlorine is available to all parties in the Syrian Arab Republic.’ A Guardian leader also linked the alleged attack in Douma to sarin: ‘Dozens of civilians in the Douma district were killed by Syrian government chemical attacks on Saturday.’ It continued: ‘This is not the first time this has happened. Since the use of sarin at Khan al-Assal in 2013 there have been dozens of chemical attacks by the regime.’ Peter Hitchens commented on the Guardian‘s coverage in the Mail on Sunday: ‘Here is the Guardian, on 9th April 2018: “Aid workers and medics described apocalyptic scenes in the besieged city of Douma, where at least 42 people have died from what appears to be a chemical attack, as they scrambled to save the survivors of the latest atrocity in Syria… ‘”Doctors said the symptoms had been consistent with exposure to an organophosphorus substance.”‘ Hitchens asked: ‘Which doctors? Note the absence of named, checkable sources in a story written some distance from Damascus. This was typical of almost all western media reports of the episode at the time.’ Hitchens observed that OPCW had found no traces of organophosphates but that ‘The quoted “doctors”, being unidentified, cannot now be approached to ask for their response to this.’ Responding To OPCW’s July 6 Report The skwawkbox website noted that the BBC had covered, and distorted, OPCW’s July 6 report. A BBC headline read: ‘Syria attack was chlorine gas – watchdog ‘The deadly attack in Douma in April left dozens of civilians dead and caused and international outcry.’ This was complete invention. As skwawkbox commented: ‘the OPCW report emphatically does not say that chlorine gas was used‘. The report actually said: ‘Along with explosive residues, various chlorinated organic chemicals were found in samples from two sites, for which there is full chain of custody. Work by the team to establish the significance of these results is on-going. The FFM team will continue its work to draw final conclusions.’ (Our emphasis) Chlorinated organic chemicals are extremely common, found in degreasers, cleaning solutions, paint thinners, pesticides, resins, glues, and many other mixing and thinning solutions. The BBC amended the article, which later read: ‘The report said two samples from gas cylinders recovered at the scene tested positive for chlorine.’ Skwawkbox commented again: ‘This is a classic example of a technically-correct claim that is completely misleading. ‘The [OPCW] report does note the presence of chlorine in some samples tested from the cylinders – but not chlorine gas or the residues that would be expected from its reaction with other substances… ‘The relevant page of the OPCW’s full report states that no ‘relevant chemicals’ were found from a swab inside the opening of one cylinder: ‘In debris and on other items around the cylinder, chlorine compounds were found – but these are common compounds that would be unlikely to be formed simply by chlorine reacting with something on site.’ In similar vein, Alec Luhn, the Telegraph‘s Russia correspondent, tweeted: ‘The April chemical attack in Douma was caused by chlorine gas, the OPCW says. Or it was completely staged, if you still believe the Russian authorities’ Sharmine Narwani, a writer, commentator and analyst covering Middle East geopolitics, replied brusquely but accurately: ‘No, the OPCW didn’t say that. It found traces of chlorine on the scene, which it would find in your house or office or water supply too, if sampled. Try actual #journalism.’ Off-Guardian noted several headlines covering OPCW’s findings. Reuters reported: ‘Chemical weapons agency finds “chlorinated” chemicals in Syria’s Douma’ The Independent wrote: ‘Syrian conflict: Chlorine used in Douma attack that left dozens of civilians dead, chemical weapons watchdog finds’ As Off-Guardian noted, the headlines should have read: No nerve agents found. Remarkably, these rare mentions aside, the OPCW interim report has been ignored by most major newspapers and media, including the Guardian. DE * David Bond and Rebecca Collard, ‘Experts say gas attack proof will take weeks: Civil war. Douma Inspectors are struggling to access site of alleged atrocity as Assad’s troops move in,’ Financial Times, 12 April 2018. * Vanessa Allen, ‘Little girl left foaming at the mouth by horrific gas attack,’ Daily Mail, 16 April 2018. http://clubof.info/