#shigadabi fanfiction

[satancopilotsmytardis]

(In)Delicate Touch

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @zehei Dabi has been working as a professional sub at La Vénus for a year and a half and he really does enjoy working there. The rooms are great, the way they book clients is clear and comprehensive, and he likes his boss a fair bit too. But one night a client goes too far and Dabi finds himself in a bad drop and nursing wounds he didn't want. He expects to get fired over causing so much trouble, but Tomura is there to lend a hand in any way that Dabi needs.

Content: BDSM club, sex work, bondage, impact play, safe word use, subdrop, aftercare, hurt/comfort, hand job, anal fingering, anal sex, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, praise kink.

Word Count: 10878

La Vénus is the only place Dabi bothers to take contracts through anymore. The BDSM club is the best in Kamino and it is the only one that really keeps up with the professionals who want to use it as a place to do business. They even have a portal on their website so that professional doms and subs can put their profiles, their limits, their availability, and a secure line for contacting. La Vénus has rules, of course. They're considered independent contractors and they can be removed from the club whenever the owner dismisses them, but they take a very small cut of the money they earn, and the security they provide is well-worth the price. Dabi doesn't have to be scared of giving his apartment address to anyone or going to a secondary location with a client, and V ensures that they are always abiding by the rules by having a row of rooms for their working doms and subs that have open windows, so that anyone can see inside and be certain that their business is being conducted appropriately. 

If he also happens to think that the owner is hot as fuck with his hair pushed back, his deadly fucking quirk barely contained by his gloves, and his perfectly tailored black suit with a blood red coat, and getting to check in with him before every shift is fucking perfect, then that's his business. 

"Just one session tonight, Dabi?" Shigaraki asks, checking his phone for the contract he and his dom for the night submitted for use of one of those rooms. 

"It's supposed to be a long bondage one." He explains. 

"Hmm, are you sure that all of the information you entered is correct? I thought you only used silk and no nylon for your staples." Dabi is genuinely surprised Shigaraki has paid that much attention to him, or at least to his preferences. He's got upwards of three hundred people in this club every night of the week and he's never seen the other man take a day off in the year and a half he's been subbing here. Not only that but he's got twenty doms and subs on rotation, he didn't think that anyone would bother to remember more than the names of the people he's been working with. 

"It was his first time booking, he might have mis-clicked. Can I still make adjustments to the room setup?" There's only another twenty minutes till the club opens its door and Dabi is supposed to be alone for at least an hour before his client arrives. He was planning on putting on a nice little peepshow for people, but he'd rather make certain that the room and everything is all set up for his session with a client. 

"Of course. I can have silk brought to your room." He agrees. "Do you want red to... match?" Dabi's already put up his coat and bag in the private changing area that the performers have access to, so he's just in his dark red lacy panties and the silver body chains with small red crystal dangles hanging off of them. He used to go for a blue look, but to distinguish workers from anyone else just looking to partake at the club, all of the performers from doms and subs to strippers and workshop teachers have to wear a deep red leather collar with La Venus embellished on it in silver foil. He didn't want the accessory to look out of place, and pivoted to wearing red instead of blue at the club. 

"If it's not too much trouble." Dabi always likes to think about his optics. Other people he's talked shop with around the club say they're usually focusing on a scene when they're in it, and that's great that works for them, but Dabi wants to be certain that he's staying constantly vigilant, and that he's setting himself up for future clients too. If their sessions are all going to be observable, then he is going to be a hell of a sight to see, and he's gonna make sure that he's got his aesthetic dialed in. 

"It's no trouble at all, Dabi." Shigaraki tells him easily.. "Does everything else seem alright?" Dabi reviews the contract again, and that looks like the only thing that was entered wrong, and he nods. "Alright, you're going to be in L2 today," he reaches back on the wall, unlocking the glass door and retrieving the key for the right room. His favorite room actually. He likes being on the left side because the bounce light is a little more diffused from that side, giving people a clearer view through the window, and he likes being in rooms two or three in that hall because those are the ones that people tend to linger in front of more, not wanting to clog up the entryway as they try to get to the seating areas that also line the hall. 

"Thanks, Shigaraki." He takes the key, but the owner doesn't let go of the tag for a second. 

"You know you can call me 'Tomura'." 

"Maybe when I'm off the clock, boss." He retorts easily. No matter how hot the other man is, Dabi doesn't want to get distracted. This is his job, he can't go around fucking that up by getting familiar or, god forbid, flirting with the guy who's establishment pays his bills. 

Shigaraki, for his part, looks wryly amused and lets him head out after that, the next person slipping in to confirm their night's plans as well. Dabi heads to his room to finish getting ready and wait for his silk. Maybe he will have a chance to put on that peep show after all. 

///

Dabi spends the first hour that V is open teasing his nipples and palming himself through his panties on the bed getting himself achingly hard and so close to the edge, but easing off of his peak to keep himself 'unspoiled' for his client who asked for him to be pent up and a little frustrated. Definitely a streak of sadist in him, but Dabi isn't a stranger to that, and he's looking forward to getting thoroughly worked over. 

Jin, one of the security team he recognizes at a glance, brings the new client to the door and Dabi is fully not expecting the blonde man to be so much taller than he is even after knowing he would be from his ID when he booked the session. Dabi steels his nerves. "Goto, it's good to meet you, I'm looking forward to our session." He starts with a pleasant smile. "If we can just re-touch on rules and boundaries, then I'd be happy to submit to you. Would you like to sit?" 

"Yeah, sure." The blond only has one eye, his prosthetic in the missing one looking like it's been forced into place with the metallic spikes around it that is kind of intimidating. He sits and Dabi starts to go through his usual spiel, he restates his hard limits, that they'll be using the traffic light system, the hand gestures that he will use if at any point during the session he goes non-verbal for any reason, and then he turns back to ask if there's anything he needs to go over as well. Goto is flat and unmoved when he says, "No." Sounding more bored than anything and Dabi's skin prickles with the first stirrings of discomfort. "Why are there silks instead of ropes?" 

He frowns slightly, "During the consultation, I said that I couldn't use rope over my staples. Since you said you wanted a heavy rigging session, I had it switched for silk since that's something my skin can tolerate." 

The other man considers the silk for a second before scoffing softly. "Fine. But you can take impact, can't you? If we're using silk, I want to use a paddle instead of my hands." 

Dabi doesn't normally love to use a paddle, it's wider and less accurate, meaning partners can overlap his staples on accident and leave him with fresh wounds. "I think that a riding crop would leave prettier marks, don't you, Sir?" He offers instead carefully. 

Goto looks him up and down and Dabi tries to look smaller and softer for him. Clearly he's more of a sadist than he'd originally thought, but the pay for this session is half of his rent this month. He can put up with this if it gets him what he needs. "Fine." Dabi expects him to ask about his levels, to get the toy off of the offered wall of them and test his tolerance. It's good practice for a session like this, but Dabi figures, 

"Remember, club rules state no impact with any implements across the face, and only light impact across the stomach and places prone to injury. My staples are fragile, so please avoid those where you can, but anywhere else is alright." 

"Yeah, got it, can we get started now?" The blond nearly snaps. Dabi bristles, but says nothing. It's his first time at V as far as he said during the booking. Maybe he's uncomfortable knowing the far wall is a window, even if it looks like a mirror from their side. 

He makes concessions on his politeness and breathes out a slow breath, trying to shake his tension and allow himself to slip into the headspace that he needs to. "Of course we can, if that would please my master." He simpers sweetly, trying for doe-eyed and helpless. 

The man starts to loosen some of his tension and tosses the jacket he was wearing over his black mesh tank top onto the chair in the corner of the room for more intimate cucking or voyeuristic sessions. "That's better, whore. I better not hear another mouthy word out of you, or I'm going to have to get rough." 

Not his favorite type of scene, but Dabi is a professional sub, he submits.

///

Goto is rough with him, and he likes his knots tight. They're loose enough, he thinks, for maybe one of Dabi's fingers, but his feel bigger as they move over his skin and knot them into place. He works methodically, not paying much attention to Dabi himself as he works. He occasionally pulls at the silk with an unhappy set around his mouth, but he clearly knows what he's doing, and Dabi finds himself over the course of an hour, knotted into a few different positions, as the other man gets a good look at his body and how flexible he is like this, before he ends up in a ball tie, tipped on his side. When the ropes are secure, thankfully, the other man doesn't actually also reach for a ball gag. He just puts his bigger hand over his ass, and palms him through his panties. He's not really doing much but groping him, and it doesn't really feel good, but Dabi moans anyway. 

The yelp he lets out the next second is real though as the riding crop comes down across the back of his tied thighs so hard that Dabi would put the pain at a seven already. The sound splits the air and he nearly chokes on his breath. 

"Not another nasty sound out of you, whore. You're not here to feel good, you're here for me to use." 

Dabi holds up three fingers to show that he understands, and then bites his lower lip hard as another crack comes down, this time just beneath his ass. And the next overlaps the first. Then across his exposed hip, along the outside of his thigh. It hurts, going up to a nine and holding there as the man hits him again and again with the crop. he goes over his scars, over his healthy skin, and the blood rushing up to the freshly forming welts as they swell, puts an uncomfortable pressure along his seams, especially around his thighs. He swears that between the ropes holding his legs together and pressed to his chest, and the ache of the impact, he's going to pop out his staples along those seams. 

"Y-yellow," he manages as he's panting between blows. 

"Thought I fucking said to keep your mouth shut?" The riding crop gets tossed to the bed, and in that second, Dabi thinks that he is setting it aside to check in. 

But the next robs him of that delusion entirely. Goto's hand fists in Dabi's hair, and he grabs hard to force his face into the sheets. Dabi barely manages to tuck his chin tighter to his chest so that he isn't smothered into the pillows and unable to speak as the man cuts off the other way he would be able to signal that he needs to stop. "Red!" He cries out, wanting to be let up immediately. 

"God, you whores here have had it too good. Thinking you can tell me what to do? When to stop? You need to learn your fucking place." He snarls, using one hand to hold him down while his other goes to-- Dabi hears the metal and leather sliding through each other as his belt is pulled. Fuck, fuck, fuck, 

"Red! Stop--" He hears the other man spit into his hand and his whole body goes hot with his terror. No, no, no, even if he hasn't moved his panties out of the way yet, if he gets that, or anything else in his seams when they hurt so badly, when they're so close to open, then he could get sick. He can't get sick again, he can't. Dabi tries to fumble for his quirk desperately, wanting to burn the silk from around his body, wanting to scare this fucker before he does anything worse to him--

"Don't you know that I own you?" 

It's like every string in him has been cut. Dabi's whole body goes so instantaneously numb that he can't make his quirk work. I own you. It's not Goto's voice that echoes in his mind. Not pain hits his body as he is shunted so sharply to hiding in his room with Natsuo as their father snarls at their mother. It's a stupid fear, it's an old helplessness that he shouldn't let distract himself now, not when he can't stop that memory, but he has to stop this disgusting man from ruining him even more as he hears his hand moving roughly over his cock. 

"Don't!" His voice doesn't even sound like his own, he can barely recognize it. It hasn't been filled with such sharp, anguished terror since he was burning--

"Get away from him!" There's movement, shouting, a scream behind him, but Dabi is only shakily trying to push his quirk away now, so scared he may light the bed on fire accidentally. He can't hurt his seams again, can't use his quirk right now, he'll burn it all to the ground and he's already destroyed whatever place he had here. Dabi sobs against the bed, his fear too big and sharp to make sense of whatever is happening beyond his body. 

There are voices, he thinks, furious and short, and the kind of whispers that come in the wake of something awful. He's the awful thing. He lost control of a session. He's the one who's broken, bleeding now, if not from his seams, than from his eyes as he sobs on the bed. 

"Dabi," the voice comes, addressing him and the bed dips just the slightest bit. He doesn't know who's speaking to him, just that it's not that man. This voice is low and trying to soothe him, he thinks, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the fear choking his chest and his quirk that is rioting beneath his skin. "Dabi, you're starting to smoke." The voice is so gentle. "No one is going to hurt you anymore." He waits but Dabi doesn't believe him. People are always hurting him. He's always hurting himself. Why would this be any different? He sobs harder and there is a longer pause, probably as the new voice decides where he deserves to be hurt when he's already been broken so thoroughly. "Can I touch you, Dabi?" 

He barely croaks, "R-red--" Through his sobs. He needs it to stop. He has to make it stop. 

"The scene is over, Dabi," the voice promises him. "I just want to untie you. Don't you think it would help if you could sit up, Dabi?" 

Would it? Could he make himself small on his own terms then? He sniffles, but it doesn't stop the tears. He barely manages to nod. 

"Okay, I'm not going to touch you. You just need to hold still, alright?" Dabi does his best to do as he's told, but tensing his muscles lightly makes them start to shake hard. He feels a little tug at one of the silks and then he's got the whisper of... something barely heavier than air against his skin, and the restrictive silk is gone. It happens twice more and then Dabi is able to slump against the bed, his limbs under his own control again, and Dabi does his best to push himself up, mind still swimming through a rolling sickness. Sick. He could get sick again. He could get hit again. He needs to focus. 

It feels impossible to do as he forces his mostly numb arms beneath his chest as he tries to turn around. His vision swims through his tears and he doesn't find the hulking man with blond hair anywhere in the room. The far curtain has been drawn over the viewing window, and Shigaraki is sitting at the foot of the bed, his hands resting in his lap. No, no, no. Further panic makes his ribs constrict sharply around his lungs. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" he sobs immediately. He's ruined everything, he's made so much trouble for the club. Oh-- oh god, he's really never going to be able to work here again. He's going to have to go back to what he did before--going to have to take on more clients like Goto, going to have to risk his health, his safety-- 

"Dabi, you don't need to apologize. I just need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?" 

He should be able to, shouldn't he? That's supposed to be the simplest thing a person can do, but he can't quite manage it past the tiny hiccupping sips of air that he's making himself in past the hitching sobs that are shaking his body. 

"...Okay, can you look at me, sweetheart?" Shigaraki's voice goes even softer, and Dabi forces himself to peek up at him from the tight hunch he's made of himself up against the headboard. "That's perfect, now I just need you to follow my breaths. You don't have to be perfect," he soothes, "I just want you to try. Can you try for me, Dabi?" 

Shigaraki takes a slow breath in, holds it for a few seconds, and then he lets it out in a long steady stream. Dabi doesn't think he'll ever breathe like that again, not when his chest is so tight, but he isn't being yelled at yet, isn't being hit, and he doesn't want that to change. He tries so hard for the first few breaths, but he can't stop crying for long enough to manage it on those. 

But Shigaraki smiles at him anyway, "That's it, you're already doing such a good job for me, sweetheart. Can you keep going?" He resumes the patterned breathing, and the soft encouragement makes Dabi try harder. He's already made such a mess, he has to be at least capable of doing this right. 

He forces himself to breathe. Each one stutters and stalls until his tears aren't so constant, until they're just a scattered few droplets on his cheeks and his lungs are able to fill a little more. In some vague, dizzy shadow of his mind, he thinks he was hoping that breathing again would make the awful, cold pit in his gut disperse a little. That maybe the breaths would loosen that knot of dread, but he doesn't feel that happen. His dread stays settled against his nerves as those wake up after shorting out to try to protect him from what was happening to his body. Suddenly, he's not just scared, exhausted, and sick to his stomach, he's in pain too, and he starts to shake, a thin whimper leaving him as he looks down at himself. He has to uncurl his knees from his chest to see the side of his thigh that was exposed to the crop. 

The welt he finds across his scar is so puffy that he can see it clearly, and it's shiny. The color is too dark for him to tell if it's blood, sweat, or if it's because it's just so swollen around the fresh wound, but it hurts and he needs... something. He can't get sick again, but he is having such a hard time reordering his thoughts, figuring out what he needs to do next when everything hurts and his mind is so foggy. 

"Are you in pain, Dabi?" Shigaraki keeps talking to him softly, and Dabi barely manages to nod. "I want to get you something to drink and some medicine, but there isn't anything here." He explains carefully. "Do you think that we can move to somewhere else where I can get you those things?" 

He doesn't want to hurt anymore. He doesn't want to get sick. Dabi barely manages to nod his head, the action feeling like it takes every ounce of his strength.

"Good, do you think you can stand by yourself, sweetheart?" 

Dabi doesn't know. He feels weak and his legs hurt more than anything else. He is shaking already when he just manages to uncurl his arms from around them. It's the first flicker of sense that goes through his head when he kicks off his pumps before even attempting to put his feet against the floor. Shigaraki stands as well. 

"Can I come closer, Dabi? You can hold onto my arm if you need help." He smiles at him as he makes the offer and Dabi doesn't have the energy to speak. He manages to hold three fingers against the rumpled sheets and moves to the edge. The shock of the cold floor against his bare feet is such a small thing to make him uncomfortable, but everything inside of him is already so messy that he can't tolerate it, pulling his legs back up. "...Is it too much?" 

He manages another tiny nod. 

"Okay, can I pick you up? I promise I'll be very gentle, and when I put you down, you'll be able to have some water and something for the pain." 

He doesn't want to think. He doesn't even want to exist right now. He leaves his fingers open against the sheets. Shigaraki can do whatever he wants to him now. He's already broken. What's another fracture in his skin? 

"I'm going to pick you up. I need you to keep your hands where I can see them so I know if it's hurting." Why bother? He won't stop if it does. 

It doesn't hurt when Shigaraki picks him up. He's careful as he lifts him off of the bed, supporting his back with one arm and the other hooking under his knees instead of his thighs to keep as much pressure away from the welts as possible. Dabi is lifted and he gives up. He tucks his face against Shigaraki's white shirt and closes his eyes as exhaustion sweeps so completely through him. 

///

He's not certain how long passes between being carried from that room to finding himself blinking as he notices that there's something sugary on his tongue. It's soda, he realizes after a second, lemon-lime soda. The sweetness of that helps him to take stock of other parts of his body. He is aching and sore. His broken body hates him again and it's his fault. It's always his fault. He should have known better, should have been more careful. But he wasn't and now he's hurting and he deserves it. 

Dabi pulls away from the straw that's being offered to him and tries to take in his surroundings. They're in one of the private rooms, the actual private rooms of the club, and instead of having the lights low and a thrum of music going through the sparse bedroom, the lights are on all the way and it's as quiet as it can be with the activities of the club still filtering in from past the door. Shigaraki is sitting on the chair that has been dragged to the edge of the bed that Dabi's sitting on. The backs of his legs hurt, and he shifts a little on the edge as the other watches him, taking the cup away and putting it on the side table when he finishes with that. 

"...I'm sorry." His voice sounds like it's been completely scraped raw as he tries to make his head clear. He needs to go. He made so much trouble. He has to leave. If he leaves by himself, at least, then he won't have to be kicked out. He would rather save some small thread of his dignity than have to give that up too. 

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Dabi." Shigaraki's voice is that same low, careful tone that he doesn't deserve. "Are you still hurting? I had Yumina bring some of the bruise salve. Do you want to put some of that on?"

The welts definitely hurt and he would really like for them not to anymore, but he just shakes his head and starts to stand. "Can I get my stuff before I go?" His voice shakes as he asks. It wouldn't be the first time he's just been kicked out without any of his things. But he doesn't know how he's going to even make his rent without V. He can't have to start over with his whole life without his phone too. 

"... If you think you're ready for that, then I need to know if you want me to call the police." Shigaraki asks. 

Dabi blanches, fear swelling through his chest and making it go tight. "What?" Did he break his contract with the club? He thought he would be fired, not arrested. 

"Do you want to press charges against him? I know it's difficult in situations like this, but if you want to have him arrested, we can do that. If you want..." Shigaraki's expression blackens, "Other repercussions made, then we can decide on that as well." 

Him? His head feels like it's still full of fluff. "...Aren't you mad at me?" His voice is tiny when he manages the question. 

That replaces the darkness on his features with something softer and more surprised in an instant. "Of course not, Dabi. You did everything you needed to, there's no reason for me to be upset with you." He watches Dabi as he says those words and Dabi has no idea what his face does, but he is even more deliberate and careful as he keeps speaking. "I'm sorry that happened, I'm sorry that I didn't get there faster. But you're not in trouble, and we're going to make sure that Imasuji never does something like this again." 

His seams beneath his eyes hurt and he feels something hot and wet drip against his thighs. 

Shigaraki sees him start to cry and shifts slightly before catching himself. "Can I touch you?" 

Dabi hesitates, half expecting to be hit again, but he finally gives a tiny nod. Shigaraki gathers him up, and pulls him close, tucking Dabi's head beneath his chin and getting him to sit at an angle in his lap so that the worst of the welts don't have any pressure against them. And then his hands start to pet so gently over his skin. He holds him and he speaks, 

"I'm so glad you called out for help. I'm so sorry that happened and I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure that nothing like this happens again. I promise that you're going to be safe if you want to keep working here." 

"...I can stay?" 

Shigaraki looks at him like he wishes he could pull all of the pain out of Dabi's skin. He curls a hand gently around the back of his neck and he rests their foreheads together. "Of course you can, sweetheart. I wouldn't want you anywhere else." 

The tears fall a little faster and Dabi tangles his fingers into Shigaraki's shirt, clinging to him as he begins to sob fresh. 

///

It's not until he notices the pain getting more intense in his legs that he tries to take stock of himself again. Shigaraki reaches over to the side table and takes one of the tissues to help dab away the blood from under his sore seams and crusted under his staples. He hisses slightly from how broken and achy they feel and is hit with another jolt of fear over how bad they must be. 

"Are you in more pain?" Shigaraki glances at his watch, "You can have another dose of pain medicine if you want it." 

Dabi doesn't remember even taking the first, but that must mean it's been hours since the last one and he feels sharply guilty for forcing the other to stay for so long dealing with him. "I'm okay," he can be. He will be, he thinks. Maybe. If he's not actually broken from everything that happened before. "I need to go home--" He tries to shift and can't help the sharp sound of pain he makes as he puts a little more weight on the welts and his aching seams. 

"Dabi, I won't make you have anything you don't want, but I need to know you're going to be alright if you decide to leave." 

He swallows, not wanting to look at him, but not trusting his muscles much after how much just that little shifting hurt. "...I need my medicine." He admits quietly. 

And Shigaraki doesn't blink. "Okay, is it in your bag? Do you want me to have someone bring it for you?" 

"...Okay." 

Shigaraki shifts his hold on Dabi's body slightly and he sees him pull out his phone and shoot off a text to Jin to have someone bring Dabi his things. He gets an affirmative, and after just a couple of minutes, Shigaraki is picking him up again so that he can put him on the edge of the bed while he goes over to the door to retrieve the bag. He brings it over and Dabi pulls out the alcohol wipes and his salve before being faced with the location of the hurts and how he's going to manage to check them. 

"Why don't you lay on your stomach? I can help you." He offers gently. "You can watch in the mirror and let me know if there's anything you need." 

He considers protesting, but he doesn't have a better option if he wants to see how these look and how fucked he's going to be trying to get back into his tight leather pants before he walks home. If he can even manage that. "Okay," he agrees quietly, making himself lay on his stomach, the chains and crystal beads pressing against his skin. He takes a shaky breath and turns his head so that he can look at himself in the mirror that's suspended above the bed. 

The welts are dark and crusted with tacky deep red scabs at some of the highest points and the places where they overlap with each other. That's not good, but Dabi is more scared of his seams as his attention goes lower. His staples are doing their best to keep his skin together, the sections there so swollen with irritation from either side of his skin being abused that they've nearly expanded past their limits, but they are, technically, shut. He gives a soft sigh of relief. Shigaraki makes sure he's watching and then starts to clean him up with gentle, deliberate movements, always giving Dabi enough time to ask him to stop before he touches the next place on his body. And each touch is light and careful. His skin is cool through his gloves as he opens the alcohol wipes and dabs away the bits of blood before going to the salve Dabi spends most of his money making sure he never runs out of. 

He immediately lets out a shaky sigh of relief at the first cold touch of the creme against his skin. The medicine is a thin antibiotic lotion that has a slight numbing effect that takes away a lot of the lingering discomfort. Knowing that he is getting what he needs, that his seams aren't actually open, that helps to take away the threads of fear in him, and he lets himself watch Shigaraki in the mirror as he rubs the medicine into his skin. 

He moves in soft circles, making sure to get along the welts and along each line of his seams and puncture of his staples. His hands are delicate, not looking to hurt him any more than he already has been tonight, and Dabi... starts to drift as the fear, pain, and worry ebb. He's being taken care of. He gets that so rarely. Normally he barely lets himself have a minute or two of aftercare once as session is over, and even then, he's usually using that time to try and get his client to book another session while they're still coming down from the high of their domination or while they're still aching for a release they'll need to find on their own elsewhere in the club. But this feels good. He can't remember the last time someone else helped him put the medicine on his skin. 

More of the pain fades as he finally allows himself to relax a little more against the sheets and he sighs. Shigaraki's hand stills for a second, but when Dabi timidly leaves three fingers open against the sheets, he feels three open in return against his thigh before he keeps tending to the wounds and swollen areas of skin. It puts a soft kind of warmth in his body that makes him want more of that. He's being careful, he's listening to him and taking care of him. Dabi wonders distantly if it says something sad and pathetic just that is enough to make his body temperature creep up a little higher the touches continue. 

He doesn't mean to let out the little moan that slips his lips when Tomura's fingers move along his seam towards his inner thighs, but it feels so nice to have a soft touch there. Dabi opens his legs a little more and shifting against the sheets lets him feel that his cock has started to harden too. Tomura stops when he hears that soft sound of pleasure and Dabi is reluctant to look over his shoulder to see his face, instead watching him stiffen over him in the mirror. A sharper fear goes through him. He wasn't supposed to make any noises, was he? Is he going to be hit again?

"Does that feel better, baby boy?" Tomura's voice is a little thicker, lower, and his fingers trail from the inside of his thighs along to the outer edge so that he's not touching any hurts anymore. And he puts two fingers against Dabi's skin, waiting. 

Is this a scene? Could it be? Dabi wants to take away the unpleasantness still echoing around in him from what came before. But... he doesn't know if he'll be allowed that, even when it's Shigaraki's collar looped around his neck. "...Yes, Sir. More?" He chances, keeping his hand as is. 

"Of course baby, just have to tell me if there's anything you don't like." He strokes along his thighs again, and Dabi watches in the mirror as he goes from just trailing two fingers over his skin, to both of his palms open, the soft leather touching his seams and healthy skin. This touch goes between his legs, up a little higher, light and good. A nice touch after the angry ones, and Dabi lets out a tiny sigh. "Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" 

He tucks his face into the sheets, giving up on the mirror, and manages a nod against them. Dabi doesn't normally get to be soft after something so rough, but the contrast feels so good. Like it's putting fluff around all the hurts that were written into his soul and skin. He shifts and Tomura's hands immediately retreat, but Dabi only wanted to push up a little, getting his knees a little more under him so that he would be able to lift his hips slightly as he starts to get harder, and to spread his legs a little more. 

"Good boy," Tomura murmurs, his hands going back to his skin and tracing circles up his thighs, deeper between them. He goes higher, but not where Dabi wants them. He wants something that feels good now. Tomura's already made things so much better. He can take away the last sharp bits of unhappiness in him, he knows he can. "You just have to show me what you need, baby boy, I'll give you anything." And he sounds a little breathless as he speaks. 

It makes the neediness in him go a little hotter and he makes himself let go of the sheets so that he can reach back and find Tomura's arm. He hooks his fingers in the edge of his gloves and feels his face go hot as he pulls at him. He lets his arm be moved and Dabi brings it further between his legs, until his fingers are grazing the edge of his panties. Tomura takes over from there and Dabi is holding onto the sheets again as he moves his fingers lightly over his covered balls and up to his hardening cock. 

"You want to feel good, sweetheart?" His voice going hotter. 

Dabi manages a little nod, still certain he won't be allowed that after before. 

Tomura's fingers stroke up his cock, cupping him through the lace as he hums softly. "I can do that, baby boy, but I need you to move for me." His hand retreats and Dabi wants it back, so he lets Tomura get him onto his back, and Dabi is confronted with the sight of himself in the ceiling mirror. His face is flushed and still a little blotchy from crying. He looks dazed as the chains glitter in the light of the room, his legs spread wide, knees bent to keep the worst of the welts from touching the bed. And his cock is hard and stretching his panties. Tomura moves between his spread legs, leaning over him carefully and blocking his view in the mirror. And there's not a trace of cruelty in his look. His eyes are warm and he's smiling at Dabi softly. "Can I take off your panties, sweetheart? I want to make your pretty cock feel good." 

Dabi bites his lip and nods. 

"Can I hear your color? It will make me feel better if I know you're using them." He asks, reaching to cup his cheek and stroke his thumb just under one of his aching seams. 

"Green, Sir." 

"Good. But you don't have to call me that, baby boy. I can be whatever you need from me right now. What do you want, sweetheart?" 

He wants to be safe. He wants to feel good. He wants the softness and sweetness that he never gets, let alone after something bad has happened. And he wants to be small in the wake of that. "Daddy," he whispers, his face going so hot with his shame, terrified that he can't have this either. 

Tomura's smile makes his eyes warm too as he leans over him, his hand shifting so that he can push his hair from his forehead. The kiss he presses there feels like a balm as much as his medicine did against his hurts. "You're doing such a good job for me, baby boy. Lift your hips a little more." 

He does and Tomura makes sure the thin fabric doesn't rub against any of the welts as he pulls his panties down his legs. Dabi kicks out of them when they're low enough and then he chances reaching for Tomura, getting one hand in his hair that is as thick and soft as he's always wondered. He lets himself be pulled up, but when Dabi wants a hard, messy kiss to reassure him that this is something he can have, he's instead given one that is so soft and achingly tender that it makes him breathless. His whole body gets a little warmer as Tomura kisses him, his hands moving lightly over his skin, stroking up his thighs before he shifts over him.

 Dabi almost whines, but he feels him reaching and hears the rustle of plastic as he finds the bowl on the side table that holds the variety of lubes that are in every room for the club-goers' use. Tomura picks one at random and brings his other hand up to tear it open, and when he wraps his hand around Dabi's length, his glove glides across his skin and makes Dabi's toes curl with pleasure. The touch there, after the pain from before, after denying himself even earlier, makes him gasp, wrapping his arms around Tomura's neck to keep him close as he touches him. 

He moans, his hips moving, trying to get more of that good sensation after a night of bad. "Daddy," he pleads. 

"I've got you, baby boy." He murmurs, pressing a kiss softly to the seam aching under one of his eyes. His fingers move over him, making sure to rub along his ladder and around his head, bringing Dabi's pleasure higher. He whimpers when he tightens his thighs around Daddy's hips and it makes his hurts ache a little. But he doesn't have to hurt for long. Tomura immediately shifts so that he has one hand under his hip, lifting Dabi's weight a bit and moving it higher on his back, making sure that none of the welts are rubbing against the sheets and that he doesn't have to try to get him closer, not when he's holding onto him, his legs supporting his lower half. And letting him feel Daddy's cock is getting hard too where it's pressed against him. 

Tomura doesn't pay his own arousal any attention, his hand moving deliberately over Dabi's cock, searching and finding every place that makes his pleasure sharper. His body is already so exhausted from the night, that it's not hard for him to get lost in the feelings, for his head to start to float into that soft good space that makes him love being a sub. And when he moans and tries to move into the pleasure, he doesn't get yelled at, he doesn't get hurt, instead Daddy gives him more kisses. 

"There, you're doing such a good job, baby boy. I'm so happy that you're letting me help you feel good, sweetheart. You're so pretty when you're blushing like this." And the words put more of that needy, squirmy heat in him through the heavy fog rolling in. He twists his wrist as he strokes him and Dabi moans loudly, hips jumping up into the touch. Daddy sees how much he likes that and he keeps doing it on each stroke, making him shiver and tremble, moans spilling off his lips and his fingers tugging at Daddy's suit jacket as his cock leaks. 

It only takes a few more of those tight, perfect strokes before Dabi's back is arching again, smoke curling out of his throat, as he cums, spilling all over Daddy's hand and his own stomach. He gasps, trembling against the sheets as that bliss soaks through his veins and leaves him absolutely boneless. 

"Perfect, baby boy. You did such a good job for me. I'm so proud of you, precious." He starts to shift, reaching for another wipe to clean him up and even floating, Dabi knows he doesn't want to get cleaned up yet. He doesn't want to stop. He wants Daddy to make him feel so good that he doesn't even remember the welts against his thighs. 

"Daddy," Tomura pauses and Dabi struggles to find more words, "More? Please?" He tries to be careful, making sure to only put pressure on the inside of his thighs as he tightens them around Tomura's hips. And then he rolls his hips down, breathless when he feels how big and hard Daddy's cock is. 

"Are you sure, sweetheart? All I want is to take care of you. We don't need to do anything else." He reassures him, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

Dabi knots his fingers in his jacket a little tighter and pulls at it, nodding. "Green. Please, Daddy?" 

"Of course, precious. But if you change your mind, if you don't like something, all you have to do is tell me, and then we'll be all done, okay?" 

"Mmhm," he mumbles, pulling at his shirt again. 

Tomura gives him another kiss, and then only partially disappoints Dabi because he does have to move away if he wants to strip himself of his clothes, the fabric getting tossed item by item onto the chair until he's only wearing his gloves. Only what he needs to make certain that Dabi is safe before he moves back between his legs and kisses his lips again. Dabi loses himself in that, his hands now getting to move over all of the pretty pale muscles that have been hiding under his clothes. 

Daddy's hands move over his skin too, touching his chest, pushing his chains out of the way so that he can play with the rings through his nipples, and over his sides, down his stomach, up his thighs. He goes slowly, his mouth going across Dabi's jaw and along his neck and collar bones, looking for places that make Dabi's skin go warm again. When his hands go lower he opens his legs wider, when his fingers, slick again from more lube touch him tentatively, he gasps, "Green," again before they start to move against him. 

He has to keep one arm around the back of his neck, still scared of being tossed aside while he's getting so close to the perfect floaty place he rarely ever gets to find, but the other knots back against the sheets, needing something else to hold onto. Whimpers and moans spill past his lips as Daddy circles his hole until those nerves are prickling with need. When his first finger presses in he feels gone, as the pleasure aches through him as his cock starts to harden again. 

Tomura opens him up with the same deliberate, gentle movements as he did to soothe his hurts and by the time he has three inside of him, moving against his prostate, he is near tears again from how good he feels this time. "Tomura!" He can't help the sounds spilling from him, his cock pressing against his stomach and drooling fresh pre from how needy every touch is making him. "Tomura, Daddy, please, please!" His nails bite into the sheets and the back of his neck. "Please, I want it, please, want your cock." 

"I'm going to give it to you, precious, just have to wait a little longer." Tomura gives him another kiss before he shifts again, pulling a condom from the bowl of them and Dabi waits with breathless impatience for  him to get it on before he's pulling him back in, and shifting to help him line up. His head rubs against his hole as Tomura untangles his fingers from the sheets, catching that hand and threading their fingers together. Before he can feel overwhelmed from the tenderness of that action, he starts to press inside and Dabi is lost in the stretch of him inside. 

It feels like it takes an eternity for him to be so deliciously, perfectly full. Tomura presses more soft kisses across his face as Dabi pants and whimpers, every breath makes his nerves sing like his whole body is trying to make up for the agony from earlier by amplifying every flicker of pleasure. He's hazy with it as he demands, "Green, Daddy," when he can't possibly stand to wait a second longer for it to get even better. 

Tomura breathes a laugh against his skin, leaning back just enough so that Dabi can see him smile. See his pretty eyes looking at him like he's the whole world. "Okay, baby boy, but you know what to say if it's too much?" He nods weakly and Tomura gives him another kiss as he starts to move. 

Dabi has never had sex like this before. He has never been so deep in the cloud of his subspace, never been touched like he was something precious. He has never had someone moving inside of his body, doing everything they could to make him feel good the way Tomura is. He makes sure that he's rubbing against his prostate, going at a slow, deliberate pace that keeps from putting any hard pressure against his seams or bruises, and he doesn't lose his patience with that. He keeps fucking Dabi so carefully instead of chasing his own pleasure, and he looks at him, holds his hand, like this is all he needs. Like seeing Dabi falling apart under him is all he could ever need in the world. Like he's not a burden, not an inconvenience, not an employee, but something... precious. It all makes his head so messy in such a different way than before that Dabi is smoking again as his quirk heightens alongside his pleasure. 

He is so hazy that he doesn't know how long Tomura is moving with him, kissing him, his hand tightening against Dabi's as they both build their ecstasy higher and higher. But Daddy's fucking him slow, so it must be a while. He doesn't know if it matters though, because when his cock starts to ache again, his balls going so tight, and just before his orgasm pulses through him again, he finds himself squeezing their interlocked hands together a little tighter. 

"Tomura," his name is a gasp and he's not expecting the other to whisper back, 

"Dabi," like he's the most important thing in the world. He really doesn't mean for that to push him over the edge, his body thrumming with pleasure that goes even higher as Tomura bottoms out inside of him as they cum together. Dabi doesn't think he's ever managed that with a partner either, but his fog is far too thick for him to care as Tomura captures his lips in another all-consuming kiss. 

///

They lay in bed together for a while, Tomura pressing more kisses and praise into his skin until Dabi stops trembling with his pleasure. Until his fog rolls back from his mind and after the night he's had, all he can do is feel exhausted. Tomura didn't bother taking off his watch when he was getting ready to fuck him, so Dabi catches the edge of his glove and pulls on it so he can see the time. 

"Fucking hell--" he starts to sit up out of the circle of the other's embrace as he realizes it's dawn. He started his session at eleven. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" His stomach sinks. Fuck, fuck, he cause so much trouble for the club tonight and then he'd fucking slept with his boss. 

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Dabi." Tomura tells him immediately in the same even tone as he did before, with the same warmth in his eyes. "Are you feeling better?" 

He hesitates, taking stock of himself now that his head doesn't feel nearly as out of sorts as he had since he dropped. "Yeah... thanks for taking care of me." 

"Of course--" 

"No," he pushes a little harder, straightening his spine. "You didn't have to do that. You could have left me to deal with it myself, you could have called the cops and let me come down barely-clothed in a police station. But you made sure to take care of me here, and treated the bruises. Thank you." 

Tomura doesn't dismiss the words this time. "...You're welcome, Dabi. Is there anything else that you need?" 

"A shower, breakfast I guess, and the patience to deal with cops and heroes for a couple of hours if I decide to report that douchebag for assault." 

Shigaraki's expression darkens. "This room has a bathroom attached. If you want to go clean up, I can go get your day clothes from your locker and bring them in for you. I can't offer much as far as food goes, but I might be able to help ease the stress of the last part." 

Has Goto been held here the whole time? He'd asked if he wanted to go to the police earlier, but Dabi hadn't been thinking clearly enough to put that statement into any more context. "Okay." Tomura hesitates a second, and then leans in and presses another kiss to his forehead. 

"I'll be right back, firefly." 

///

Dabi goes and takes a shower, and by the time he's finished and dried with the towels that smell sharply of the detergent used to make sure they're clean, Tomura is all buttoned up again and Dabi's day clothes are waiting for him along with another soda, bottle of water, and a bottle of Tylenol. He takes the pain meds, downs the water, and dresses. If he goes to report this then it's going to be a long fucking day to start without a lick of sleep. He should have asked for an espresso martini, though he doubts that any of the bartenders are even still here. 

When he's dressed, white t-shirt, leather pants, leather duster, boots, and his backpack with his medicine, heels, and club clothes inside, he figures there's no putting this off anymore. 

"Okay, let's deal with this fuckwit." He says with more bravo than he feels. 

"If anything is too much, you just have to say the word, and I'll deal with it, Dabi." 

"I appreciate that, Shig, but you can only fix so much." 

Tomura doesn't stall anymore and they leave the private rooms, going through the main area of the club. It's not that unusual for Dabi to be leaving after closing, but it's definitely later than he usually leaves. He's never seen the club completely empty, even the janitorial staff having finished for the day and abandoned it. They go out of the main area and into the hallway of red rooms, and Dabi startles to find the second room on the left has been roped off with velvet barriers because the glass is gone. Dabi pauses, staring at that gaping nothing that's letting him see that the room has been thoroughly cleaned and reset even though he doubts anyone will be using it until the glass is back in place. 

"What happened?" He doesn't remember hearing any glass break. 

"I was in the main room when I noticed the commotion. I didn't want to lose time by running around to the back hallway." 

"You broke the window?"

"No," he says, continuing to move down the hall. "That could have sprayed you with glass. I decayed it." 

"You're insane." Dabi barely manages to say through his thick throat. 

"When I took over this club I said I would make it a safe place for everyone who comes to indulge. I'm not about to let one of my staff, one of my best members of staff, get hurt here." They leave the hall and Dabi doesn't know what to say to that, so he chooses to remain silent. 

Tomura takes him down the service elevator, unlocking the buttons that lead to the basement level with a key and Dabi is a little concerned. He didn't know anyone ever went to the basement levels for anything. But once the elevator is moving again, he reaches back for Dabi's hand and laces their fingers together again, bringing them up so that he can press a kiss to Dabi's knuckles. It puts a warmth, a comfort in his stomach that he's never had the luxury of before. They take the long ride down and when the doors open, Dabi finds the winding pipes and cords that he expected of a place that holds the guts of the skyscraper. Tomura coaxes him out into that tangle of piping, and Dabi follows carefully behind, his quirk sitting hotter under his skin. 

He's led around two corners before they reach a doorway that Tomura knocks on once. He hears a couple of locks being thrown and then the door opens-- revealing Jin, who sees him and immediately breaks into a smile. 

"Hey, Dabs, you doing better?" 

"...Yeah." He wants to ask what exactly is going on, but the other man moves out of the way so that they can see into the room and Dabi bristles, smoke getting trapped behind his teeth as he sees Goto, a gag in his mouth, and his arms cuffed behind him with dampeners where he is strapped to a metal chair that's been bolted to the ground. "What--" Tomura pulls him into the room gently with their entwined hands. 

"Like I said before, we can call the police if you want us to. You have a written contract and a lot of eye-witnesses that will prove that he was in violation of that." He lets go of Dabi's hand to go over to Goto. The other is glaring, his teeth bared as much as they can be around his gag, and Dabi notices that part of his arm is gone. The cuffs are hooked above his elbows because on the right side, everything from the forearm down is gone. And Dabi sees a dangerous thing in Tomura's neutral expression as he takes off his glove, resting four fingers against the back of the chair. "Or we can take care of this now." 

"'Take care of' how?" But the coldness already starting in his gut is answer enough. 

"My quirk doesn't leave anything behind for anyone to find. There isn't even DNA in the dust." He doesn't say it outright, but there's no mistaking this proposal for anything but what it is. And immediately Dabi thinks he should be scared. For as gentle and caring as Tomura just was with him, he can and has, apparently, killed people before. He is dangerous. But he is watching Dabi with that tentativeness from before. Trying to make certain, he thinks, that Dabi is alright just like he has all night. "Jin already sent a double on his way with both arms intact. He can go around living his life until he gets hurt and when that happens, there will be nothing to trace it back to you. You'll be safe, Dabi. No matter what." He promises. 

He'll be safe, he thinks, even if they do go to the cops. He'll be safe, have a club full of witnesses, and his contract-- and he knows that they still won't care. Muscular will get a slap on the wrist, if anything, and then the next time he wants to get his rocks off, he'll go find someone else who isn't in a club full of people who care about what happens to each other. He'll find someone desperate, helpless, and alone, and he'll go further than he could with Dabi-- if he hasn't done that already. "...Your quirk works on anything?" 

"As far as I'm aware." He replies evenly. 

Dabi takes a step forward and Tomura waits. Goto glares at him with his one working eye. Looks at Dabi like he can't understand how someone as low as him could possibly warrant anyone bothering to care about what happens to him at all. It makes that shattered thing inside of him sharpen into something with teeth. He reaches for his face, a flame already in hand and grabs on. 

He can't go hot enough to turn his skull to ashes, not without his seam hurting badly, but it is immensely satisfying to hear him screaming around the gag as it melts over his teeth and tongue as his eyeball boils in his skull. He takes a step back when his hand starts to hurt, and Muscular is still thrashing in the chair, letting out muffled screams. 

Tomura lets it go on for a few more seconds before he catches a part of his arm where the fire hasn't spread yet, and holds on. He screams until he crumbles away. When there's nothing on the chair but dust and the air is filled with the lingering, unpleasant scent of burning hair, Tomura steps around the chair, pulling his glove back on deliberately. Jin slips out of the door, though Dabi sees him lingering outside of it. 

"There. He can't ever hurt you, or anyone else again." He starts to move closer and Dabi takes a step back. 

"Red." The word stops the other man in his tracks, hurt flickering across his features. He takes a deliberate step away from Dabi and doesn't come any closer as he finds the rest of his voice. "...You could though," he says, feeling the prickles of anxiety under his skin. Fuck. Fuck, what did he just do? He might have gotten rid of that bastard, but Tomura owns him now. Even more than he already did. 

"I wouldn't. Not ever, Dabi. If you don't want to work here anymore, then you're free to go. If you'd like a letter of recommendation or a referral to any of the other clubs in this area, I'd be happy to provide it. If you want to stop doing private sessions for a while, then that's alright too. If you want, you can put on some classes-- or you can dance if you want. Kenji mentioned that you two have been practicing together. I can be your boss again," and Dabi doesn't expect the way that makes something go sharp behind his ribs. "Or I can be... nothing to you." 

Dabi hesitates, but Tomura keeps his distance and he can't find even the slightest hint of a lie in his eyes. He just sees them sad and worried, the same way they were when he saw how badly he'd been broken. And Dabi wants them warm on him again the way they had been when he'd held his hand as they came. It's probably wrong, probably insane, but Dabi thinks he could be very happy with Tomura, even knowing that he would destroy the world if it hurt him. He hasn't ever had someone who would take care of him. He's certain Tomura will unless he tells him to stop. And.. he knows now that Tomura will stop if he ever tells him to. 

He's the one who crosses the space between them. "I want a week away," he demands breathlessly. "You don't call, you don't check on me, you don't mess with my profile. You let me leave, knowing I could go to the cops." He catches the lapels of his suit, hands hot with barely contained flame. 

"I can do that, firefly. But," Dabi's stomach sinks, "you need to go up and see Atsuhiro to get your pay for the week. I don't want you to leave without it if you decide not to come back." 

Dabi pulls him into a hard kiss.

///

When he comes back to V a week later, his locker is exactly as he left it, and he doesn't see Tomura until he's getting ready for the consultation. He walks in and finds the other holding himself with his spine straight, looking at his tablet with a furrow in his brow. 

"Dabi, welcome back. I'm sorry, I'm having some kind of technical difficulty. Your bookings for tonight aren't showing up on the schedu--" He catches the edge of the tablet and sets it aside before stepping right back into his space like their last kiss was a minute ago and not a week, and gives him another. 

Tomura goes still against him before his hand wraps around the back of Dabi's neck, his other arm going around his waist, and he kisses him back like he's the only thing that matters in the whole world. Like he's trying to tell him that he'll never be broken again. 

"Canceled them. Just want you to take care of me." He breathes when they part. 

Red eyes go surprised before warming. "I will for as long as you'll let me, firefly." Tomura promises. Dabi seals those words between them with another kiss. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, consider leaving a comment!

[oxygen537art]

istg I luv ur art style so much and also can I get mha smut recommendations (idrc wat ship but mainly bakudeku and dabihawks is wat I'm looking for. shiggydabi is cool too)

Thank you so much for your nice words, I'm glad you enjoy my art! ❤️

I've listed the authors and titles of their works that I once saved in my favorites. I hardly follow updates now, it's been a while since I reread the works listed here, so I rely purely on notes and bookmarks left by past me. Just a reminder that everyone's tastes are different, please read the tags. And check out the authors' other works!

18+, Minors Do Not Interact!

Aphra_After_Dark

The Desk Job

Fight for You, Fighting for Me

how to 69 when both of you have fangs

In For A Penny

Mommy Milkers

Of Corset Is

A Slow Descent

Something New

bluebelle

can I kiss you?

full rack

hard boiled

cozzzynook

“Closer”

"Come on baby bird, show me whose submissive”

“Lace and Feathers”

“Mated” series

“I got you a present birdie”

“I’ll Love you even when you don’t love you”

Self-care is the best care, but with you it’s just better

The sun that stole the moon

“Touya’s Fun Night In”

Cateil

drowning in you

heart and soul

messy

palpable

cellostiel

Maraschino Cherry Juice

Relaxation

The Real Deal

Songbird

So Fucking Electric

DeadBoysWalking

Hyperfixation

Shut Up And Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Good Boy

If Only

Eyes On Me

The Other Way

Wait A Minute, Baby, Stay With Me A While

Turn you inside-out by dorothycanfly

drunkenCharm

As Above So Below

Before I Ever Met You

Begging for Thread

Days of Bloom

Drowning Gods

Good Vibrations

i hold you to my heart's desire

Waiting Game

FeatheredFvck

Bad Behavior

Bet

Breathe

Dickstracted

Euphoria

I'll Do You Two Better

It's A Spring Thing

The One Percent

Unexpected

From flames to ashes by NekoRika (This is a collection of oneshots, but I save the chapters 3, 23, 36, 41, 43)

Neurotoxin

Arrangements

Change Of Pace

Learn To Breathe

Punk Gecko Boi watches Smexy Gaymer and his Goth bf fuck on webcam.mp4

Pixie_Virus

4's a Party

Couch Troubles

Meet-Cute

After Dicking Cuddles by the_pursuit_of_happiness

I'll Make It Fit and Milk Me by paleserendipity

SaltyTomato

Good boy

I hope they have your eyes

Pretty Fingers on Slick Thighs

satan_copilots_my_tardis (I recommend all of their works. Some are only available on Tumblr (18+) @satancopilotsmytardis)

SoenNoAme (TsukkiNoNeko)

Blue Flames, Blue Passion

Captivated By Your Resonating Light

Close To You

Dancing Flames

Diplomatic Approach

Edge of Glory

Glimmer

Heated

Kiss Me Like It's Do Or Die

Play A Little Game

Satisfy the Undisclosed Desires in your Heart

sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie.

Stuck in Repeat

Tears That Drip Sore

until you learn to love yourself

White Camelia

Your Innocence Is Mine

Wind Down by frozenCinders

Primal Instincts and Pretty Things by truthinadvertising

fuck around and find out and End Racism in the OTW- All Dolled Up by unbalancedcentrifuge

VampyrSutton

Be Good For Me

The Cave

Eyes on Me

Good Little Whore

Hate Fuck

How Are You Alive?

How Do You Live Like This?

How the Mighty Fall

Spring Heat

SSD Day 3~Werebeasts~Claiming Bite/Knotting

SSD Day 6~Anthro~Collar

Werewolfnightwalker

All Of Me

The Consequences of Nesting

Down By the Wexford Border

Save a Horse, Ride a Birdboy

Soft

Take Me Apart So Gently

Turn Off The Lights (We Don't Need Them To Dance)

[shiggys-wife]

"I'm cold"

Shigadabi

Rating: Everyone

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Shigaraki is sick, and the only person he doesn't send away is Dabi

*art credit to owner*

Dabi rushed inside the dimly lit bar to escape the rain. He shook off the droplets from his hair and hung his coat by the door. Kurogiri and Twice were the only ones in the bar, and he assumed everyone else was still out. Dabi silently headed towards one of the sofas to sit down, but he looked up as Toga stomped into the room, clearly agitated.

"I'm never trying to help him again! Someone else can do it!" She exclaimed as she slammed a bowl down on the bar. Twice comforted her by patting her on the back, and she went on to sit on the stool next to him, arms crossed.

"He is stubborn on a good day, Toga," Kurogiri said.

"I was just trying to make him feel better! He didn't have to threaten me!"

"He is sick. He just took his frustration out on you. He wanted to make a move on All Might as soon as possible, but we can't do it without him. He knows that." Kurogiri explained. Dabi was listening closely now, Shigaraki was sick?

"Well, he can starve for all I care. I'm not going back in there." Toga said matter-of-factly.

"Boss is sick?" Dabi asked, speaking for the first time since he came in. Toga looked over at him, not even realizing he was there the whole time.

"Dabi! You're back!" She cheered with a wide smile, Dabi only returned from finding recruits maybe once a week, Dabi gave her a single nod before asking again.

"Shigaraki is sick? Is it serious?"

"No, it's just a cold. He has been complaining and acting like a spoiled child all day." Kurogiri said. He lifted the bowl Toga had brought out with a sigh, "We tried to get him to eat something, but he has refused everyone's attempts. You're more than welcome to try, though his soup is cold now."

Dabi made his way to the bar. He took the bowl and warmed it in his hands until steam rose from the soup inside. "I'll try," was all he said before making his way towards the leaders' room.

Dabi knocked once before entering the dark room. The TV displaying the menu of a video game was the only light in the messy room. Dabi could see just a bit of light hair sticking out from underneath the blanket bunched on the bed.

"I told you I would disintegrate the next person who bothered me," his voice sounded hoarse and rough from underneath the blankets.

"I think I would put up a hell of a fight if you tried," Dabi said as he approached the bed, Shigaraki uncovered his head and squinted at Dabi in the dark.

"Dabi, you're back."

"Yeah, just in time, so it seems. Someone has to get you to eat." Dabi said teasing slightly. The leader rolled his eyes and rolled back over in his bed.

"I don't want to eat. You can take it with you or leave it on the table on your way out."

"Tomura," Shigaraki let out an annoyed huff at the name and continued to get comfortable in his bed.

"Tenko,"

That name froze him. He hated to even hear the name, the terrible memories that followed it. But it was somehow different when Dabi used it. He told the other about his past, and he trusted him enough to share. They had shared many stories late at night hidden away from the rest of the team in Shigaraki's room.

"I'm not hungry,"

Dabi sighed and set the bowl down before sitting on the bed. He put a hand on the other's forehead. He was burning up with a fever. Most would have been afraid to suddenly touch the young villain so casually. Not Dabi. He could never be afraid of Tomura. The sick boy leaned into his warm touch and nuzzled his face in his scared hand.

"You've got a fever, tell me what you need, if you're not hungry," Dabi asked,

"I'm cold," was all he said before meeting Dabi's strong gaze. Dabi knew what he was asking for without needing to be told.

He kicked off his shoes before raising the blanket and crawling in behind Shigaraki. The air caused him to shiver, Dabi quickly covered them both and wrapped his arms around him. Tomura turned in his arms to face him and buried his face in his chest.

"Did you find anyone this time?"

"No one worth bringing here," Dabi said, Shigaraki nodded. He nuzzled closer to the warmth radiating from Dabi.

"Better?" Dabi asked after a bit of silence, Shigaraki hummed and nodded. When Dabi was away, he missed moments like this, not that he would ever admit it to anyone. Aside from Master and maybe Kurogiri, Dabi was probably the only person he cared about. He never thought he would have someone like that.

"Are you leaving again?" Tomura asked, Dabi was quiet for a moment. He had planned to rest up and leave tomorrow night.

"Tomorrow,"

"Can you not leave so soon?" He asked quietly, almost too quiet to hear. Tomura rarely asked things like that. He held it all in even if he thought it. But he was sick, he wanted Dabi with him.

"I can stay."

Tomura hummed in contentment as he drifted off to sleep. Dabi looked down at him sleeping. He ran his fingers through his hair. He never thought he would feel love, not real love anyway. He never had it as a child, and he was filled with so much hatred that he didn't think it was possible for him to love someone. But that's what this was, wasn't it? Love?

Tomura moved closer to him in his sleep, face pressed into his chest as he made little noises in his slumber. Dabi kissed his forehead and smiled.

Yeah, this was love.

[vivika-ka]

does anyone know any fanfics that are Touya and Shouto focused, or just even just Touya focused, that don’t have DabiHawks as a pairing? 😅

I don’t like putting ships “on blast” like this, since people can absolutely enjoy whatever ships they like, but DabiHawks just isn’t for me.

I usually don’t resort to this, but unfortunately I can barely find fics without the pairing (even in fanfics the pairing is untagged).

[vicardi-the-fool]

So I’m looking on AO3 for some good ShigaDabi fics and man I found one that was soooooo good. I want to build a temple to worship this fic😭 It’s a no quirk AU and damn the characterization is delicious. The fic only has 6 characters and hasn’t been updated since last year. However even if it never gets updated I will reread it over and over again! Thank you so much @dahvampire for creating this beautiful fic😭😭😭

Edit: OK THE PEOPLE HAVW SPOKEN! They yearn for the fic!

Extra Edit: I accidentally got the link for a different fic however I did find an old fic that I used to read from it so that was nice! Any way this is the true fic!

This is the fic yall!!!! Enjoy!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56663368

[motivation-dont-know-her]

Fanart for chapter eight of @jackdaw-writes shigdabihawks fic, absolutely amazing, you should read it!

this is my first time ever drawing a character mha aside from Ochako, so if there a some inconsistencies sorry bout that.

Go support it!

[cecil-is-an-eldrich-deity]

This is how I look at ShigaDabi

(Especially in Satancopilotsmytardis fics)

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: It's no secret that Touya died during the Sekoto Peak Fire. Yet, from the ashes, Dabi was born, a spirit of vengeance seeking the downfall of Endeavor for Touya. For years, he was content with his existence, with being nothing more than a ghost. The League, apparently, didn't get the memo. Alternatively: Five times Dabi was shown affection despite believing himself nothing more than the ghost of Touya, and one time he realizes he might be a little more alive than he thought.

Author: @kitnjinx

[cuspidgoddess]

Archive of Our OwnMaster List

The Flock of Villains AU

A Gilded Cage is Still a Cage Completed Hawks is honest w/ the LOV from the start about his mission

The Best Things in Life are Free Completed Continuation of A Gilded Cage

How to Build a Nest Completed Fumikage Tokoyami centric

The Greatest Gift is Loving You Completed Co-Writer: @savi909 Natsuo Todoroki/Stolas Yew centric side fic

Sweet Dreams and Beautiful Nightmares

In Process

If the Mini Murder™️ became villains

Furless Babies

A Less Than Fluffy Situation Completed Hairless cat Dabi AU

Shedding Completed 1 Shot of the aftermath of A Less Than Fluffy Situation

Rough Patches Planned

[palesweetscherryblossom]

Some news

So, recently I’ve been thinking about doing some MHA ship fics based on some of my favorite fantasy movies/stories

Current ideas are: Tododeku based on the Little Mermaid

Shigadabi based on Beauty and the Beast

And Togachako based on Labyrinth

Is this something you guys would be interested in? These fics will be on my AO3 btw

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Heavy Home

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by an anonymous user. Dabi has never been good with people, with controlling his emotions, or controlling his quirk, and all of those things have put him in a lot of danger throughout his life. He doesn't think that it's all that surprising that he ends up feeling like the entire world may crash in on him or that he might ignite when he gets stressed out by those things. He just didn't know that there was a way to feel better when that was happening. Shigaraki takes one look at him when he's spinning out and shows him how he can. 

Contents: panic attacks, hurt/comfort, protective!Shigaraki, cuddling, soft sex, praise kink, frottage, cumming in pants, multiple orgasms, anal fingering, anal sex, anal cockwarming, creampie, overstimulation

Word Count: 7969

Dabi is never going to say that he's ever been good with people. When he was a kid he was 'off-putting' to other kids. Even though he was friendly when he was little, when he started to go wrong, his intensity and obsession with getting back into his father's good graces, and the viciousness through which he tried to hide how badly it hurt that he was cast aside, made him disconcerting to be around. Natsuo was the only one who could stand him without fail, though it was his cruelty to Fuyumi that soured that particular well. Still, he wasn't good with other people when he was a child, and waking up from a coma to find he had been completely cast aside, did not help that condition in the slightest. Then he'd been on the streets and the lack of social skills, feeling like a child in a body that didn't belong to him, having people constantly trying to hurt or take advantage of him-- it all piled up. He had to learn how to survive. 

That resulted in Dabi making himself dangerous. He made his scars worse by reopening them all the time as he took on criminal work to show that he was powerful and not someone to be fucked with. He got piercings on top of his staples, he dyed his hair black, he switched to leather clothes so that he would look tougher and not have to worry about picking melted polyester out of his skin. He made himself  'Dabi' in more than just name to ensure that he wouldn't get destroyed before he could become the ghost he had vowed to be at his altar. 

The problem is that doing all of that hadn't made him less scared, less small, less fragile, when he already always felt like he was on the verge of losing his mind and control of his quirk again. He wonders how many other people know the unique and intimate terror of knowing every second of every day that one slip in their concentration could mean their quirk rebelling and killing them. He doubts that many could. He just knows that it's something that is always sitting at the edge of his awareness, and he knows that his fight or flight leans so heavily towards 'fight' in an effort to keep him alive, making it even more likely that he's going to lose control again ahead of schedule. 

He tries to hide those fears and doubts, tries not to make himself a target for threats or violence, if only to keep his skin on his fucking body. And he hides all of it through a blasé attitude, thuggish drawl, and seeming disinterest in everything going on around him. He gets very good at faking all of that to hide the constant riot of emotions that is surging through him at nearly all hours of the day. Dabi thinks he's done a particularly good job of hiding those emotions when he goes to meet the League of Villains. He thinks he's done a very good job when it's Shigaraki who lunges for him, and not the other way around. At least this way, he knows that the other man is focusing on his anger and Dabi can pretend he isn't nearly bouncing his foot as he realizes this is a big step for him. He's been biding his time in the shadows for so long, coming out of them and throwing his lot in with the League could destroy him before he even gets a chance to see his father again. But he does it anyway, and despite almost coming to blows, he is accepted into the group. 

He really thought that maybe he would calm down a bit after that. 

///

The problem is, that no matter how much he plays it cool around the others, he is constantly on edge. He doesn't know the right things to say to keep people from getting aggressive with him, he can't talk about himself out of fear of giving anyone any clues about exactly who he really is, and he is constantly trying to sound dumber than he is. He doesn't think he does a good job with the last one, because despite the rough start with Shigaraki, he is put in charge of the summer camp job. Though, that may be a good thing, because he is very invested in making sure that he does everything he can to ensure if he sees Shoto, his identity isn't immediately revealed. But that, he thinks, is only making his anxiety higher and higher. 

It's especially bad on training days. The training facility that Kurogiri sends them to is somewhere deep underground, a large white room, maybe the size of a baseball diamond, with thirty foot high ceilings, a viewing window off to one side where the monster maker and Shigaraki typically observe from, and the ability to be dressed up as different settings so that they can practice trying to use their quirks in 'open, outdoor environments' without actually drawing attention to themselves. It's good for the others, Magne learning how much of a direct line of sight she needs on someone to properly magnetize them, Toga is figuring out how to move through the trees and throw around her needles, things like that. Dabi is mostly wandering around, tossing Velcro balls at people when they get distracted, mimicking the way they are likely to get hurt if they aren't paying attention when moving through the forest with his flames licking all around them. But he doesn't use his quirk during this training session. Not only is it dangerous given they are in an underground enclosed area, but it also wouldn't be safe with his seams. He doesn't want to burn himself out before they even get to the camp, so he is mostly keeping an eye on things, acting as a fake hazard, and learning what he can about the others. 

He learns very quickly that Muscular is a piece of fucking work.

"This is bullshit," the bigger man snarls, tearing three of the balls off of his clothes and stomping right over to Dabi. He tries to maintain his cool exterior, but he can't help the fact that his temperature is creeping higher as the other man gets right into his face. "I can feel fire before I get close to it." He shoves the balls into Dabi's chest, pushing hard enough that it puts just the wrong amount of strain against the edge of his seam and one of the staples pops free. He hides a wince as he starts to feel the empty holes beginning to bleed. Muscular's single eye drifts down to the bloom of blood and the sneer goes even more vicious. "Aw, is that the problem, pipsqueak? Are you too fragile to be any use in the field?" 

Dabi's pulse is thundering in his ears and he wants nothing more than to get away as fast as possible to treat the wound, not wanting to risk the bastard jamming his fingers into it and possibly giving him an infection. But what he actually does is take half a step back, lift one of the little balls, and bring flashfire to his hand. It burns hot and bright sharply for about half a second before it's reduced to ash, but it's so hot that Muscular rears back immediately with a sneer, activating his quirk to keep the worst of the heat away from his skin. It's not fast enough to avoid the flames drying out the skin on his face, not enough to give him first degree burns, but enough to make it turn a little pink with irritation. 

The sprinklers trigger as the smoke from his palm reaches the sensors in the ceiling, making Toga and Magne both squeal over their hair getting wet and Compress grumble about his suit. He's just grateful for them because the roar of the water means that it will be hard for anyone to hear it if his voice is trembling at all. "You may not have a chance to feel the heat before my flames come. You need to be aware of your surroundings if you don't want to get burned."

He is glad that a portal opens for them as Shigaraki's voice crackles through the speakers. "That's it for the day." The room will need to be reset and the others start to go through the portal without protest. He is a little slower behind the rest of them, trying to make his breathing even and slow the beat of his heart, but it feels impossible. 

The others aren't all staying at the bar, only he and Toga without somewhere else to go, and Kurogiri clearly sent the others back to their places of residence, because it's just he, Duster, and Dabi in the bar when he steps through, Toga's feet already moving up the rickety stairs. 

Dabi means to immediately follow her as Kurogiri steps through a portal of his own to go see to whatever AFO has him doing, but as he turns to leave, Shigaraki reaches out and catches his arm. He only uses four fingers, and the touch doesn't hurt, but it's entirely too much for him after Muscular got so into his space, and Dabi forces himself to clamp down as hard as he can on his quirk to keep from combusting and lighting up the entire bar. But that traps all of the heat inside of him and he feels his brain boil, his limbs all starting to tremble and his breath fills with embers as he tries to figure out how to fill his lungs around the flames, or if he should be trying to suffocate them away. 

"Dabi?" His hand drops his elbow and he feels like a child as he curls in on himself. His skin feels like it's going to catch, fuck, fuck, fuck--

All of the sudden, there is a solid weight on him, smothering his skin, held close to his body as he's grabbed again. Not just his arm this time, but around his shoulders and his waist. Dabi is pretty sure that should be the thing that sends his skin boiling, but instead he lets out a breath of smoke as Shigaraki... holds him. He's wrapped him with the ratty blanket from the back of the couch, used it to smother the heat pouring off of his skin, and he is holding him tightly against his body. That pressure, he thinks, should break him. The heat being reflected back in on him should make him ignite. But instead nearly all of his muscles go slack and Shigaraki is the only thing holding him up at that point. 

He lets out a gasp that is all smoke as he realizes, despite seeing how dangerous his quirk could be, Duster saw him losing control and got closer to make sure he didn't. 

///

Dabi is really out of it, he knew that the moment that Muscular got into his space and sent his nerves so high, but this is past that. He feels like he's hungover as he realizes that he's on the couch, or more specifically, he's in Shigaraki's lap on the couch. The other is still holding him tight, his chin resting on the top of Dabi's head, and holding him wrapped in the blanket. He blinks and starts to straighten up, 

"Fuck," His face burns, but it's with a blush this time, not his quirk. No, that feels pretty settled as he shifts in the other's lap. "Sorry, I--" 

"It's alright, Dabi." He doesn't know if he's ever heard Shigaraki's voice soft in the time they've known each other. "...Do you always have this kind of trouble with your quirk? Or is it just when you're having a panic attack?" 

"A what?" 

Duster blinks, his arms tightening a bit around him, and that look tells Dabi that's something that he should know, but might be something the coma and lack of education are messing with. 

"Whatever, I'm fine with my quirk, I can do my job." He insists.

"...Okay, but if you need anything else, we can help, Dabi."

Right, because so many people have been willing to help him before. He extracts himself from Shigaraki's hold and the blanket to go upstairs. He probably would have stolen a bottle of booze to annihilate his brain if the other man's eyes hadn't been following him the entire time as he was going. 

///

Shigaraki doesn't bring it up again, but after another couple of days, a package gets left for him outside of his door. Inside of it he finds a weighted blanket made of a special fire-retardant fabric and Dabi would carry the thing around like a child if he could get away with it. He didn't know how much being smothered in the heavy fabric would help to ground him, the weight making it so he doesn't feel like he's drifting away from his body, and the covering with something that won't catch, letting him breathe a bit more easily as his anxiety swells. It's beyond good that he has the blanket now, and it only gets better when their support gear comes in and Dabi is given a leather coat that has a removable lining with lots of places he can put similar weights inside of the fabric. He almost resents how quickly Shigaraki was able to pinpoint a way for him to contain the constant discomfort under his skin. But he can't really when this all is working-- for the most part. 

Dabi still wakes up more than he likes to admit, gasping, lungs filled with smoke, and feeling like he might come apart at the seams. And the blanket helps then, but it doesn't fix him. He ends up layering his coat on top of himself as well, and that still isn't enough. So when he and Duster have a private minute he asks, 

"Where can I get another one of those blankets?" 

"I can order it for you, why? Did something happen to the first?" Duster doesn't even look up from his game. 

"No, it's just not heavy enough at night." 

That does get Shigaraki to pause, literally and figuratively, so that he can give Dabi his full attention. "You can't add another blanket, it's not safe. Too much weight could compress your lungs." Oh. Fuck. He wonders if Shigaraki can see the disappointment on his face, because he starts to scratch at his neck before he mumbles, "There might be something else that we can try, though." 

///

Which is how Dabi goes from just sleeping with his blanket, to sleeping with Duster. Beyond weird at first to go to his boss's room whenever he has a bad dream or spike of anxiety, and climb into his bed, the heavy blanket separating their bodies, and then Shig climbs on top of him. He rests his weight completely against Dabi, and like being hugged tight by him the first time, it smothers out his discomfort and lets him fall right to sleep. And Shigaraki can then get off of him and go about whatever he decides to do when his insomnia keeps him up. It's strange and beyond embarrassing at first, but over the course of another week or two of the best nights of sleep Dabi has had since he was five, he gets over the weirdness. 

He's laying underneath Duster again, the tension slowly trickling out of his body and making his eyes get a little heavier. Shigaraki is scrolling on his phone, his chin tucked over Dabi's shoulder, reading some report or another that AFO sent him. They usually don't exchange words when he comes in here, but it's been weeks and Dabi can't help but mumble, 

"Why're you going out of your way to help?" 

He hears the other's thumb stop moving. "I'd hardly call lying on you 'going out of my way'." Shig tells him, sitting up a little. Dabi reaches for him through the blanket and holds onto his shirt, trying to keep him close, and Duster shifts to keep most of his weight on him, just straightening enough so that he can look at Dabi. "But if it's helping, why wouldn't I?" And he says it like that should be obvious, like that's just so simple and expected that the thought that he wouldn't do that is completely foreign. 

Dabi, for as reckless and stupid as it is, can't help but respond to that by leaning up and ruining it by pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Shigaraki stiffens over him and his stomach plummets, his anxiety ratcheting up in his veins again, ready to try and squirm out from under him and go quietly immolate himself elsewhere, but Duster doesn't pull away, he doesn't kill him. His gloved hand wraps around the back of his neck and he holds him in place as his mouth moves against his own. 

The kiss is achingly tender, making a burning bloom behind his eyes that he doesn't want to give name to. But just like the hugs, the blanket, the consideration and care that Shigaraki has been giving him for the past few weeks, a kiss that isn't brutal is completely foreign to him. He's only ever been kissed a few times, never by anyone he wanted to kiss, never when he wasn't so high or drunk that it made any sense. But Duster is gentle as he moves their lips together. His lips are shattered, but soft as he tilts his head to seal them together more completely, and when his tongue begs permission, Dabi opens to let the other inside. There's no rush, no plundering, or biting, it's all just the slow intentional movements of his mouth as he licks behind his teeth, strokes their tongues together, filling Dabi's mouth with the slightly stale taste of mint from his toothpaste. But it's good. It's better than any kiss he's ever had before and Dabi is humiliatingly breathless when Duster pulls away, red eyes dark and half-lidded as he looks down at him. He wonders what he looks like and hopes it's not as desperate as he feels. 

He's really not expecting Shigaraki to murmur, "Sorry, I shouldn't have-- that doesn't have to be a part of this. You can come to me when you need to. I'm not expecting... that in return." 

Dabi blinks, because it hadn't even crossed his mind that Shigaraki would take away the care he's been giving him if he wasn't doing what he wanted. He untangles his hands from beneath the blanket and knots his fingers in the soft, loose sleep shirt across the other's chest. "Okay." He feels his face going a little hotter and hopes that his scars cover it up. "Could it be?" 

The hand around the back of his neck flexes and tightens a bit, and then Shigaraki is leaning back in to kiss him again. It is just as deep as the first, but it's a little faster, a little harder, like Shigaraki is actually hungry for him. It spreads the heat from Dabi's cheeks along his whole body and he tries to match his pace. Duster gives him kiss after kiss, each one building in intensity until Dabi is just taking in little gasps of air every time their lips part even the slightest bit, but not letting himself fully part at all. He doesn't want to pull away completely, he would drown beneath Shigaraki if he could.

But then Shigaraki shifts on top of him, slipping one of his thighs between Dabi's legs and his body goes even hotter as he spreads them open. The hand moves from around his neck, his mouth moving to along his jaw like his scars aren't even an inconvenience, so that he can pull the thick blanket out from between them. Feeling Shigaraki's body against his own without that barrier between them, makes a hazy need start to itch across his veins. Opening his legs to make room, not just for Shigaraki's thigh, but wide enough so that his hips can slot between his own and he can bring every part of their bodies flush against one another makes him breathless. Duster moves slowly, his lips kissing and nipping ever so gently across his jaw and down his neck, teasing his skin as he looks for any place that makes little shivers or tiny gasps escape him. Dabi tries to get his wits about him. He's had other hookups before. They weren't soft, they weren't even good if he's being entirely honest, but they were something and he knows what he's supposed to be doing. It's just that... being under Shigaraki as he lavishes his ruined skin with the same warmth and softness that he was given when he first held him, is making it incredibly hard to focus. 

Duster doesn't seem to mind though, and his hands are moving up to the hem of Dabi's shirt. His fingers dip just beneath it, stroking his stomach just above the edge of his waistband, and then he murmurs against his skin. "Can I?" 

Dabi is terrified of how weak his voice will be if he tries to use it and manages a nod instead. Shigaraki has to lean away from him and Dabi has to let go of how tightly he was clinging to him, but it's worth it when Duster coaxes him out of his shirt. It's a relief to shed the fabric, the heat of his body becoming unbearable. He catches the hem of the other's shirt when he's free of his own and Shigaraki takes the hint, pulling the dark fabric away and tossing it somewhere else in the room as Dabi is left breathless as he gets a look at his body. The bullet wounds are freshly healed, but no longer puffy as the stars from. The cut deep across his shoulder looks much newer and Dabi can see the little scabs on either side of it from how recently the stitches were removed. Those pull his immediate concern, if only because he didn't know their leader was running around with those injuries, but the next is that Shigaraki, for as thin as he is, has more muscle on him than he thought he did. He's lean the way Dabi is, where his body seems to be trying to put on the muscle that it is ready to make, but it's being stopped by something. For Dabi, it's his quirk constantly burning through him and years of malnutrition that keep him wiry with broad shoulders, but for Shigaraki, he wonders, if it's the injuries, the fucked sleep schedule, or the fact they never see him eating anything and he's only ever seen the boss have a drink if it was something hard from the bar. 

But those thoughts aren't given room to breathe as Shigaraki leans back down to catch his mouth in another consuming kiss before his hands are moving over Dabi's chest. His skin is much cooler than his own, but most people are colder than him. He's more focused on how good it feels as he brushes a thumb over his nipple, teasing the bud and playing with the piercing through it. How that good sensation feeds into the gentle, exploratory touch across the seam that runs over his stomach, and how normally that doesn't do anything but hurt, but the lightness of this, how warm his body already is for these proceedings, is making it feel good. He reaches for Duster, trying to touch him, to make certain that he's worth his time when Shigaraki didn't need to give him his attention at all in the first place. But Duster catches one of his wrists and pushes up by his head against the pillows, 

"Let me make you feel good?" He has never been spoken to so softly and Dabi trembles, managing only a tiny nod as his throat goes thicker. 

Shigaraki keeps touching him, kissing his skin, touches exploratory and teasing, until he finds the spots that make him squirm and bite his lip as his cock fills and little moans keep wanting to slip out. He needs to be quiet. Toga's room is right on the other side of the hall, and he will have to immolate them both if they wake her up because she will definitely mock them for this. It's hard to hold back the sounds though when Shigaraki's cock is swelling too and the thin material of their pajama bottoms is barely a barrier between them. His thighs tighten around Duster's hips when he rolls them together. It's the first time someone's touched him in half a year, and it's been even longer than that since he got desperate enough to stroke himself, his piercings and staples across his palm making it a tedious and somewhat unpleasant task. That, he thinks, is making him so much more sensitive, and he's practically whining, biting his lip hard to stay quiet, as Shigaraki grinds them together, his cock feeling so big as it moves against his own. He ends up having to fist his hands into the bedding, his hips giving aborted little twitches up, trying to get the other to go faster, harder, to give him more because it's humiliating that he is so desperate when this is all he's been given. 

"So pretty, sweetheart, so sensitive," Duster's voice is lower, in volume and with the rasp of his own arousal. And his lips go to his cheek, kissing him there like he's nothing but a desperate, blushing virgin, and Dabi feels like one as he is left wanting more so badly. "Is this enough, baby boy?" He rolls his hips more deliberately and Dabi can't help the thin moan he lets out, his jumping to rub against him, sparks dancing along his nerves. Never had someone call him nice pet names in bed either. He doesn't think that those should be making him so much needier, but they are. "Can you cum like this, precious?" Shigaraki doesn't sound like he's mocking him, he sounds like the thought is enough to make him hotter too and he can't hide how wet he's getting as his cock leaks in his pajama bottoms. 

Dabi barely manages to nod. And instead of pulling back to make him cool down so that he can actually be worth the other's time, Duster kisses him again and pushes harder, moving more deliberately as one hand goes to Dabi's thigh, catching it around the back so that he can lift his leg slightly to make the angle even better. Good enough that Dabi can't help the gut-punched moan that comes out of him. 

"That's it, show me how pretty you are when you cum, Dabi." 

He half turns his face into the pillows, gasping and whining lowly as the movements keep going, finding the perfect pace to push the heat in his veins higher and higher until he can't hold on any longer. Dabi bites his lip hard to hide the sound of his pleasure as his balls go tight and his cock pulses his orgasm across his nerves and paints the inside of his pants with a sticky mess that squelches obscenely when Tomura keeps moving against him until Dabi is shaking. 

Shig catches his chin with two fingers and turns him back to him to give him another hot, open-mouthed kiss. "That's it, baby. Beautiful." He kisses him and slows his movements, letting Dabi come down, but that's not what he wants. He wants more. He wants to be worth the care and consideration that Tomura keeps trying to give him even though he's mostly been a shit to the other man who tried to kill him when they met. 

He kisses back as hard as he can manage when his limbs feel like jelly and tries to get a hand into Duster's pants. "Shig, let me--" 

His words are cut off with another kiss. "Let me see you, baby?" 

He nods weakly, and Shigaraki moves so that he can peel his sticky pants off of his legs. He feels his face heat as he sees what a mess he's made of himself, but Duster is looking at his cum smeared skin like he's going to eat him alive and Dabi doesn't have to ask him this time to have him shifting so that he can take off his pajamas as well. He whimpers when he sees how big the other's cock is, flushed dark at his head and with pretty veins winding along the underside. Shigaraki leans over him again, one of his hands moving down Dabi's body, palming at his soft cock, and Dabi knows immediately with how hot he still is, that he won't stay that way for long. Especially not when Shigaraki's thumb finds his ladder and he starts to tease him there. 

"You're gorgeous, sweetheart." His words come out as a purr and Dabi thinks he's going to boil his brain if Duster doesn't start acting like he is as desperate for release as he must be feeling from how hard he already is. "I want to see you spread open for me, baby boy. Is that alright? Can I fuck your pretty hole, precious?" 

Dabi may incinerate them both if he doesn't. "Please, Tomura--" 

"That's it. Want you to use my name, firefly." He drops a kiss to his forehead and then reaches over to the nightstand, retrieving a half empty bottle of lube as Dabi's cock aches as he starts to fill again so soon. He spreads his legs as wide as he can, tilting his hips up, and Shigaraki doesn't hesitate to push one of the other pillows beneath his hips so that he can keep them at the angle that he wants without strain. He uncaps the lube and squirts some into his hand, letting it warm a bit against his palm as he leans in and drags his mouth across the seam over his collarbone before his lips find a nipple and he starts to kiss, suck, and tease at the bud and his piercing there. He keeps doing that as his fingers trace around his rim, the first touch light and exploratory, but when Dabi pushes back against them instead of flinching away, he starts to move with a lot more sureness. 

His chest is aching and over-sensitive by the time Tomura has two fingers inside of him, his body opening up for him readily between the lingering bliss of his first orgasm and the way every gentle touch is making him hotter than any rough one he's been given since he started having sex. When Shigaraki crooks his fingers and starts to rub and tease against his prostate he has to shove his knuckles between his teeth to keep from making too much noise as his whole body goes incandescent with how good it feels. Shigaraki gives him a third, kisses his cheek, and strokes his cock until he's hard and breathless with the need for more. It's only then that he slips his fingers out and reaches back over to the bedside drawer to try and grab a condom out of the box inside. 

Dabi whines, taking his skin from between his teeth, "Clean," he's always had to be careful because of his seams and how prone to infection he is, but he wants this too much to have something separating their skin. "Tomura, inside, please." 

"Fuck, you're so perfect, baby boy." The words are rough and raw, and his pleading ears Dabi a kiss. Tomura gives another squirt of the lube, not bothering to warm it for himself before he's slicking up his cock and pressing his head against Dabi's hole. Distantly, he realizes that he's never had a cock this big before, but he can't find even an ounce of hesitation inside of him now as Tomura starts to push in. 

Dabi swears his ears are ringing as he feels the other starting to stretch his hole, even just the first inch of him making him breathless. He's never felt his pleasure go so high and Tomura letting out a harsher breath against his lips, a soft growl in his voice when he says, 

"You're so tight, sweetheart," in a way that makes that feel like the highest praise Dabi has ever earned. He mewls weakly, a sound that he's never heard himself make before as Duster sinks inside slowly until his body is impossibly full and his muscles are all but clinging to Tomura's length. He can't stop trembling beneath him, the stretch feeling so good, but completely overwhelming as Tomura peppers his skin with kisses and shushes him softly. He stays still, petting along his body, and making sure that he has the time to adjust, for a long while, like his need is miles away when Dabi's own desperation feels like it's going to make his skin catch. 

When he finally manages to weakly roll his hips up, Tomura takes that for the invitation that it is. He still doesn't fuck him hard. He goes slowly, but his movements are deep and rolling, making his body feel hotter and tighter as they come again and again, Shigaraki making sure that he has his hips angled so that he can brush over his prostate every time his cock drives deep into his heat. It is beyond satisfaction, beyond words, to be fucked like this and Dabi can taste smoke crawling up the back of his throat as he lets the other take him apart. 

He doesn't know how long Tomura is fucking him, barely able to remember to bite his tongue to stay quiet, let alone keep track of anything happening in the world around him. He just knows that by the time he's desperate for his second orgasm, Shigaraki must be dying for his first. But it's still him who slips over that edge again, not even being able to warn him, not even having a hand on his cock. Tomura's just feels so good as it pushes inside of him and rubs over his walls, the stretch so wide and so satisfying, that it practically sneaks up on him and he's suddenly making their stomachs even stickier as he gives one soft whimper as he cums. It heightens both of their pleasure, because his muscles clench tight around Shigaraki's cock, so tight he practically growls as his movements get shallower, keeping his cock deep inside of him for a few more thrusts before Dabi's insides are dripping with warmth as Tomura gives a final rough gasp as he cums. 

Dabi didn't know his body could feel so heavy and so light at the same time as he lays underneath the other man, dazed and blissful as the aftershocks of his orgasm run through him. He gives a soft, fluttery sigh, exhaustion starting to sweep over him as they lay together. Tomura gets his wits about him first, and he starts to shift, starting to pull out and try to move his weight from on top of him, but Dabi doesn't want that. He manages to hook an arm around his shoulders and weakly pulls at him until he settles again, Dabi pushing his face right into his neck. Duster laughs lightly, a soft kiss being pressed to the top of Dabi's hair. 

"You want to stay like this for a little while, firefly?" 

He barely manages a nod, but that's enough for the other man to settle his weight back over him. Dabi is so tired that he can barely keep his eyes open, and he has the fleeting thought that he is absolutely fucked because as good and grounding as it is to have Tomura's weight on top of him is already, he's never going to be able to forget how satisfying it feels to be pressed this close and filled up so gently. 

///

He wakes the next morning achingly hard, warm, and with his muscles fluttering as he feels Tomura's cock still inside of him, cum leaking out of his hole, sticky and thick, because the other clearly stayed inside of him throughout the night. Dabi can't help the loud moan that spills out of him, his body trembling as he catches onto the other's skin, fingers digging into his uninjured shoulder and at his side as he feels how good it is to be full like this. That sound is met with a soft hiss from Tomura as he also rouses and feels their bodies trying to find relief after being so stimulated for so many hours. 

"Fuck, precious, ah--"

Dabi digs his nails in, trying to twitch his nearly numb hips into some semblance of movement, crying out when doing so makes his hard cock rub against Tomura's stomach and send even sharper pleasure over his nerves. It all stings, it's definitely too much, and Dabi wants even more. 

"Ah, baby, can I?" 

"Tomura," he barely manages the word, his voice tiny and shaking badly, but he manages another weak nod and roll of his hips. 

"Fuck, not going to last long, sweetheart." He doesn't know how Shigaraki could possibly think he'd be any better when the first little movement of his hips makes his insides feel like they're on fire, every inch of his walls feeling swollen, aching, and deliciously oversensitive. Neither of them are going to manage the time they took with each other last night. 

When he cums again it's with a sharp ache deep in his balls as he realizes that he must have orgasmed in his sleep as well, because there's hardly a dribble of cum that is added to the mess smeared all between their stomachs. And the little clench of his muscles makes Tomura spill too, groaning lowly in his ear and putting enough cum into him that there's a fresh pulse of it spilling onto the sheets as he does. 

They lay, trembling, together for another long moment before Tomura is pulling out and shifting to catch his lips in another long, sweet kiss that somehow melts Dabi even more. 

///

Fucking Shigaraki doesn't fix his anxiety or whatever that makes him so bad with people and so prone to getting overwhelmed. It doesn't make him need his weighted coat or blanket any less. All it does is give him maybe the first real relationship he's ever had with someone he's sleeping with, and guarantee that the nights he needs to go to him to sleep, Tomura will pepper his face and lips with kisses and tell him how pretty and sweet he is beneath him, even if they don't actually fuck at those times. Dabi doesn't really have words to tell Duster how much he likes all of that, but he does stop calling the other man gross, so he thinks he figures it out. 

And he is definitely going to be running right into his room tonight after how awful this planning session has been. He's never going to say that planning for the inevitable clusterfuck that the summer camp job is going to be easy. Not when the League is home to a couple of grade-A crazies, including a guy who gets distracted by how edible his teammates are, and two young teenagers. On top of that, Muscular's ego and battlelust are just getting more and more frustratingly prevalent as they get deeper into the sessions. Thankfully, after seeing how the hulking meathead could consistently send Dabi into a panic attack whenever he got too close, Shigaraki decided that he would not be Dabi's bodyguard during the infiltration as originally planned. He didn't want Muscular doing something stupid and Dabi going off or shutting down in the middle of a job, putting himself and the others all in danger if he did. So instead the nomu that they were going to have on the perimeter will be shadowing him to keep him safe and Muscular would be far on the outskirts, made even more of an insult because, 

"That's a better place for you anyway since you're still doing so abysmally at avoiding the fake flames during training." Duster says that without even looking up and Dabi has about three seconds to be incredibly, incredibly smug over that comment, Toga snickering in agreement, as Muscular's face flushes a blotchy, ugly red with his anger. 

"The only reason that crispy fuck needs protection is because he can't handle himself." He snarls. Dabi would probably have just rolled his eyes and shrugged that off, savoring in the other's bruised ego, but he doesn't get that chance as the table they had the map laid out on is suddenly flying across the bar, crashing into the far wall with the splintering of wood, as they all give their own startled shouts before Muscular is lunging for him. Dabi hates how he sees blue eyes in his face for a second as he calls up his flames to try and burn him without torching the rest of the bar. But he doesn't even have a chance to send the sparks off of his skin. 

Tomura grabs Goto by one arm, one hand around his wrist, and the other striking the heel of his palm to the skin. His face is twisted into a snarl of his own, looking more vicious than Dabi has ever seen him, as he dislocates Muscular's elbow with a loud pop. The force of the blow makes him go slightly off balance and Shigaraki takes that as an opportunity to use the close combat training that none of them have ever actually had a chance to see before, and he shifts his center of gravity. Muscular practically trips over him, going ass over teakettle and making Dabi have to drop his flames and move a few feet back so that when the other hits the ground, he's not in the way. Tomura doesn't stop there, keeping his injured arm up and locked so that he can't move it, and dropping down to kneel on his chest, a knee pressed into his throat. 

"Do not," He snarls, his voice a thousand times more dangerous than it sounded when he was threatening him during their first meeting. "Ever try to lay your hands on one of your teammates again," He tightens his fingers around Goto's wrist, his single, raised finger getting much closer to his skin. "Or I won't leave you with any hands at all when I'm done. Am I clear?" But he digs his knee tighter into his throat, choking off his air and keeping him there even as he uses his other arm to tap against the floor in surrender. When he tries to reach for Shigaraki to push him off, he drops his raised finger and his skin starts to shatter. His hand immediately drops back to the floor and Shigaraki raises his after another second, just long enough for his skin to be cracked open and blood to be streaming down his arm. He holds him until his face starts to ashen and his eye begins to roll back, and only then does he toss his injured arm aside and push off of the floor. 

Shigaraki takes a breath and then casts his gaze around the room. Dabi manages to look up as well, seeing a mixture of shock, and from Toga, sheer delight, at the display. "If you want to be a part of the League, you follow orders, you look out for one another, and you never raise a hand to your teammates. I am not going to have another party that forgets its goals as soon as they're faced with something they weren't prepared for." 

"Yeah, yup, you got it boss." Magne also sounds a little delighted too, which he wasn't expecting. 

"He doesn't get to see the doctor until tomorrow," He turns to head towards the stairs, clearly ending this session, "Clean up that mess." 

No one even bothers to protest as he leaves, they just watch him until he is out of sight, and even then, no one says a word as they hear his door open and shut upstairs. He feels a little shaky, the spike of his adrenaline from being attacked, and then the sudden rush of not being hurt leaving him feel like his skin isn't sitting over his bones quite right, but he makes himself turn to the others again. He gets a fresher burst of it when he finds they're all looking at him as Muscular tries to push himself up from the floor. 

Toga makes a little shooing motion at him and he feels his face heat again, though this time with a blush. He hadn't thought any of them were aware of what he and Duster have been up to, and he is fairly certain he's blushing all the way down his neck, not that anyone can see it, as he flicks them all off as he turns to go upstairs too. He does end up stomping a little as he goes, but that's not enough to cover up Toga's loud, 

"I told you so!" To the others. He should have burned the entire bar down. He's tempted to go into her room and set her bed on fire. Instead he goes to Tomura's door and taps his knuckles against it too softly for it even to really be a knock, before he's opening the door and slipping inside. Duster looks up at him from the center of his room, his shirt already half off and Dabi sees why immediately. The wound on his shoulder is torn open, blood slipping over his pale skin, and Dabi doesn't say anything. He slips back out into the hall, retrieving the first-aid kit and wetting a washcloth from the bathroom, before he comes back in. 

Neither of them speak as he gets Tomura to sit on the edge of his bed. He pulls the chair over and sits in front of him, dabbing away the blood, making sure that it's not open so deeply that he'll need new stitches, and then putting some antiseptic onto it. It's strange to be helping someone else, having spent all of his life having to bandage his own wounds, but he thinks he does a passible job applying the cotton and taping down the gauze. Tomura doesn't complain or correct him at least, and when he's finished, Dabi lets out a shaky breath and then allows himself the humiliating vulnerability of leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the bandages. 

Duster sighs, a low, slow sound and Dabi sees the tension in him fall away. Then his hand lifts hesitantly towards him, like he thinks that maybe, after being reminded how dangerous his touches are, that he won't want them anymore. But Dabi doesn't flinch. He catches the other's wrist and holds him still as he rests his cheek against his palm, four fingers against his skin. He wonders if the gut-punched desperation in Tomura's expression is the same way that he's looked at the other every time he's held him through a panic attack. He thinks he understands now why Tomura was so good with those now. He thinks he's not the only one who's been 'off-putting' and bad with people his whole life. But Tomura is good with him. Good to him. He's learning. Dabi has always been good at learning too. 

He leans in and this kiss is as achingly tender as their first, their last, and he hopes, their next. 

[mysteroads]

Shigadabi Fluff Tidbit

Carefully, Shigaraki stood up. He took his cane in hand, limped over to Dabi, and wrapped his free hand around Dabi’s. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’ve decided to live through this war after all?”

Dabi let out a breath, then turned his hand so he could lace his fingers with Shigaraki’s. “I guess so. If only out of spite.”

“I’ll take it.” Shigaraki smiled like he had when he was playing and Dabi was singing. It was a gentle, joyful smile that changed his face and warmed his eyes to a color less like blood, and more like sunrise. He literally looked like a different person, and that person was… attractive.

Even pretty. 

Hawks blinked hard, but the apparition in the mirror didn’t change. It was still Tomura Shigaraki, smiling like a fallen angel comforting a sinner.

Shigaraki let the cane fall so his hand could reach up to Dabi’s face. With a gentleness that Hawks would’ve thought impossible a moment ago, he brushed his knuckles across Dabi’s jaw, then cupped his cheek and turned Dabi’s face to his. “Love you, Dabi.”

Dabi’s answering smile was almost shy, and his eyes were alight with something other than fire and banked rage. He lifted their joined hands so he could press a kiss to Shigaraki’s scarred fingers. “Love you too, Tomura.” 

This tenderness was harder to watch than passionate kisses. Hawks had to look away, his cheeks burning and feeling like scum for so many reasons. 

“Come on, let’s get back to bed. You can tell everyone about your brilliant plan in the morning. Especially since I know you’ll use your gamer nerd language and we’ll need Spinner to translate.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Later, I promise.”

Shigaraki laughed in honest amusement. “Fine. We’ll also talk about your spy, see what the rest of the League thinks about giving him a chance. It’s only fair that they have a say.”

They left, walking slowly to accommodate Shigaraki's injuries, still hand in hand. “I want a hint about your scheme first though,” Dabi said, just as they stepped out of the light. "I wanna see if I'm right."

Shigaraki’s chuckle, low and soft as velvet, floated out of the shadows. “There can only be one king.”

Read more here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/61157188

[shiggys-wife]

"I love you"

Shigadabi

Ratings: Everyone

Warnings: Angst

Summary: Shigaraki isn't used to hearing "I love you" and things don't go how Dabi plans when he tells him

Fanart credits to owner

"I love you."

Words Tomura hadn't heard since he was a child. A part of him craved those words, dying just waiting to hear them. But he was a villain. The leader of the League of Villains. Raised by All for One. He couldn't love anyone; he wasn't capable of being loved. He was meant for bigger things, meant to rid the world of the false heroes and make it a better place. Love was not something Tomura Shigaraki had time for. Those were not words he wanted to hear.

So, when he was lying in bed, covered in sweat and trying to catch his breath coming down from post-orgasm bliss, and Dabi whispered them in his ear, they froze Tomura in his spot.

Dabi kissed Tomura's shoulder, gently running a finger down his arm. Tomura just lay there, silent and unmoving. How could Dabi love him?

After a long silence, Dabi couldn't take it anymore. "Tomura, did you hear me?"

"No, you don't. Don't say stuff like that, Dabi," Tomura said as he rolled over in bed, away from the others' body heat.

"What do you mean?" Dabi raised up on his elbow to look at Tomura.

"You don't love me. That's not what this is. It's just sex."

Dabi huffed and sat up fully now; Tomura still had his back to him. They had been sleeping together for months, secretly sneaking away from the others and going out on runs together just to spend time together. They weren't just sleeping together.

"You're so full of shit, Shigaraki, and you know it."

"We can't do love. We don't get that. We don't have time for that."

Dabi shook his head. This was all-for-one talking. This was the bigger picture talking. He knew Tomura felt something for him. He could feel it and see it in his eyes. But he couldn't say it. He was afraid of it.

"Why? Why can't we have that? You went your whole childhood without it; hell, so did I. Who says we can't have it now?"

Was he right? Did they deserve it? No. Dabi might, but Tomura didn't. Not after all that had happened in his life and all that he had done. He didn't deserve love.

"That's just how it is,"

"I'm not falling for it; I know you feel something for me, Tomura." Tomura was beginning to get angry. He sat up and turned toward Dabi. His red eyes were wide, and his mouth was almost in a snarl. The pillow underneath his hand turned to dust in a second.

"No, I don't! Shut the fuck up acting like you know me! No one knows me!"

"Tomura-"

"No! Get out! Get the fuck out!"

Dabi stared as he yelled. Tomura had both hands balled into fists now to try and limit the damage; it was too late for Dabi's pillow.

"Listen-"

"GET OUT!"

Tomura's heart was racing as he watched Dabi storm out of the room. His mind was spinning with conflicting emotions. He wanted to reach out, to apologize, to tell Dabi that he did feel something for him, something deep and intense. But he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

As the minutes passed, Tomura's anger slowly faded, replaced by a deep ache in his chest. He lay back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his own loneliness pressing down on him. He never thought that someone could care for him, could see past the villainous facade he put on for the world.

But Dabi did. Dabi saw something in him that no one else did. And that scared Tomura more than anything. To be loved, to be truly seen and accepted, it was both his deepest desire and his greatest fear.

As the hours ticked by, Tomura couldn't shake the image of Dabi's hurt expression from his mind. He knew he had to do something, to confront his own fears and insecurities before it was too late. With a deep breath, he got up from the bed and went in search of Dabi.

He found him standing on the rooftop, looking out at the city below. Tomura approached him cautiously, unsure of what to say. Dabi turned to look at him, his eyes still clouded with hurt and confusion.

"I'm sorry," Tomura said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I...I do feel something for you, Dabi. I just...I'm scared. I'm scared of being vulnerable, of letting someone in."

Dabi's expression softened at Tomura's words. He reached out and took Tomura's hand in his own, two of his fingers covered in his special gloves now, squeezing it gently. "I know, Tomura. I know it's difficult for you to trust, to open up. But you don't have to do it alone. I'm here for you, always."

Tears welled up in Tomura's eyes at Dabi's words. He never thought he would hear someone say those words to him, to offer him love and support without judgment. In that moment, he knew that he had found something worth fighting for, someone worth loving.

With a shaky breath, Tomura leaned in and kissed Dabi softly, pouring all of his pent-up emotions into the gesture. Dabi responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around Tomura and pulling him close.

In that moment, surrounded by the city lights and the cool night air, Tomura finally allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he deserved love. And he was willing to fight for it, to fight for Dabi, no matter what obstacles stood in their way. For the first time in his life, Tomura felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of warmth in his cold heart.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the words "I love you" hung in the air, unspoken yet understood. And for Tomura Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains, that was enough.

[embers-of-the-league]

Wrote another chapter for my shigadabi AU fic - this time we're getting a flashback chapter focusing on little Tenko's experiences and his trauma. We get a look at what happened after Tenko was saved from the rubble of his destroyed house. And a look at how trauma is not something that disappears just because your situation changes for the better. --- Fic synopsis: An AU where Tenko Shimura is saved by All Might after accidentally killing his family. He's currently attending his 3rd year at UA, when he meets the self-proclaimed villain, Dabi, and despite being as different as can be, the two of them fall in love. However, being together with a villain brings a lot of new perspectives on everything, and Tenko slowly starts to question everything about the hero-society that saved his life.

[pleathewrites]

bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 1 excerpt — what are your thoughts on child abuse? + burncare read full story here

September

Meeting semi-regularly with Hawks has been… ‘Strange,’ Dabi thinks. 

The Number Two’s got a bad temper, hates being out of the loop, and hates it more when Dabi can’t be bothered to spare more than a few words at him. Dabi mostly makes Hawks do small jobs — gather bits of mild information and tail certain lower-ranked heroes. Dabi doesn’t ask for any top secrets because he has a feeling Hawks would only feed him lies. ‘Why?’ Because that’s what Dabi does. 

But the Bird has interesting thoughts. 

Dabi will admit — seeing Hawks’ speech during the Hero Ranking ceremony was wildly entertaining. Dabi assumed the hero had a flair for the dramatic, but he never thought the guy would be so bold to make such a scene on national live television. 

“Who’s gonna be happy hearing that? Stain?”

Dabi remembers Spinner’s spit-take at Hawks’ interruption of Edgeshot trying to seem oh, so humble. 

“You don’t think we need to change how we do things?... Why are those less accomplished than me playing it safe?”

Dabi remembers the way Toga’s eyes sparkled, the way even Shigaraki started to tilt his head in consideration. Dabi thinks the raining feathers were a bit over the top since the guy was already fucking floating, but he’ll admit it was a nice touch.

But his favorite — “Now, go ahead, Number One Hero, with a lower approval rating than me.”

Dabi actually let out a snort, at that one. 

It’s been a few weeks since that broadcast, but ever since, Dabi’s interest in the hero has been considerably piqued. 

He sent Hawks a set of coordinates and a time to meet about an hour ago. He’s late himself, but only by thirty minutes, and, well, he’s a villain.

He immediately spots the stupid little bird because, in an industrial town full of grey, that stupid yellow suit is an absolute eyesore. 

“You don’t own any other clothes, Hero?” 

Back turned, with only crimson wings in his view, Dabi hoped the guy would have jumped. Dabi’s been told he can be as quiet as a ghost, but then he remembers Hawks telling him something about telepathic feathers and sound vibration. 

“Dabi!” Hawks twirls halfway with that stupid grin of his, “You’re actually early. For you.”

“Say my name louder, would you. Might as well dial up the Commission right now and let ‘em know you turned, while you’re at it,” The words are worried, but Dabi’s tone stays neutral because they both know the Commission is already informed about every single one of their meetings. It’s just Hawks who thinks Dabi’s dumb as rocks. 

“We’re in a literal alleyway in one of the sketchiest towns in Japan, dude.”

“Tch,” Dabi’s nose scrunches in a sneer, ‘Of course he’d consider this town to be sketchy, just because it’s a little run down.’

Hawks scratches at the back of his head, “Though, I guess you got a point. I — uh, heh, I didn’t have time to change. Patrol and all.” 

Dabi deadpans, “You can spare ten minutes. It’s not gonna kill you,” and Hawks still looks weirdly apologetic so he adds on, “Birdy, you’re acting like I’m the one who’s gonna be waitin’ up on you. Has that been the trend, so far?”

“You know, now that you bring it up…” And Dabi just thinks, ‘oh, Gods, no,’ while Hawks puts a gloved finger to his chin, “Why are you always late?”

Dabi doesn’t answer. 

Hawks puts his hands up in mock surrender, “Alright, fine. Be mysterious, whatever,” Then clasps his hands behind his back. Dabi thinks that’ll be the end of that, but Hawks loves the sound of his own voice too much, “You villains are so dramatic.”

Dabi gapes, and lays his hand over his chest in offense, “I’m dramatic?” He scoffs — he cannot stand half the shit that comes out of this smart-ass’s mouth. His hand leaves his chest to point at the Number Two, “This coming from the guy that not only interrupted a rank ceremony but made it rain feathers while he did it? Braggin’ about his own approval rating while floating in the fuckin’ air?”

And — ‘oh shit’ — Dabi should have kept his mouth shut. 

Because he sees the bastard’s golden eyes fucking gleam, and crimson feathers ruffle, “Eh? You keepin’ tabs on me, Hot Stuff?” and he starts to lean in, close enough for Dabi to feel the need to reel back, his nose a mere inch away from Dabi’s own, “Ya like watchin’ me?” Pale eyelashes flutter.

Dabi’s had enough. 

He hears a muffled ‘oomph!’ as his scarred hand pushes Hawks’ face away, “Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself, the ceremony was national news.”

Hawks pulls back and laughs a little. It’s a breathy sound, almost a rumble with how deep the guy’s voice is, but it’s always quiet. Tired. 

Dabi’s stomach chooses that moment to let out a loud and horrifying grumble. 

Hawks’ bushy eyebrow lifts in question, and Dabi can feel the blood gather in his cheeks, humiliation warming his usually cool skin. 

“So, there is a reason you look like a bag of bones,” Hawks says.

Dabi knows the guy is trying to be cheeky, but it hits harder than intended because, ‘Yeah, I haven’t eaten all fuckin’ day,’ and the only thing he does remember eating is cheap instant udon, yesterday. He put a boiled egg in it for protein, but that stuff only goes so far.

Luckily, Hawks continues without needing a response from Dabi, “C’mon, I’m hungry, too, and I saw a chicken place around here. On me, the place is probably cheap, anyway, considering,” and waves his hand around broadly, referring to their current location.

Usually, this is the part where ‘Person B’ says something like, ‘I don’t need your charity!’ but Dabi isn’t prideful enough to deny free sustenance, especially since he can’t even remember the last time he ate real meat. 

So, he shrugs, “Lead the way. But first, button up your fuckin’ jacket and take off your glasses, for fuck’s sake. I know you can move your feathers, so — I dunno, move ‘em under your jacket, or somethin’. Hide them.”

And Hawks actually has the audacity to pout, “I hate compressing my wings.”

“Gods,” Dabi groans to the sky, “It’s just for the walk there.”

After grumbling some more, mostly to himself, Hawks relents and leads the way to a mostly empty chicken shop with neon signs and shiny wooden floors. They sit in a booth at the farthest corner, and order. 

Hawks is somewhat right — food is cheap in a town like this. Dabi’s not well-versed in all things economics, but he knows an underfunded town is a wanted-villain’s safest haven. The residents of such towns rarely call for police — police mean heroes, and heroes mean collateral damage; the residents of this town already struggle to make ends meet with their healthy bodies and standing businesses. One bad fight can end in dozens of collapsed buildings, and an overflow of the nearest already-at-capacity hospital. 

‘As long as you don’t cause too much trouble, the residents here won’t even bat an eye at you, no matter how wanted you are.’

Dabi takes off his facemask and hood when their food is served, and Hawks lets his wings out with a ruffle. The hero begins to dig in, but his gloves stay on.

“Isn’t this cannibalism, for you?”

The previous expression of excitement on Hawks’ face drops, “Ha ha. You’re so clever. I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, seriously, you should be a comedian.”

“Go to hell. It was actually a semi-serious question.”

A smile quirks at the corner of Hawks’ lips, “Just let me eat in peace, man.”

And so, they eat for a bit, mostly in silence, until Dabi decides the silence feels suffocating. Hawks isn’t asking any questions, not his usual, ‘so whaddya got for me, today?’ and it leaves Dabi with his own thoughts.

After finishing about half his plate, Dabi finally asks what’s been on his mind since watching the Bird on television. 

“What are your thoughts on child abuse?” 

Hawks freezes, a chicken piece halfway through his open mouth when he looks up at Dabi, muffling out, “What?” 

Dabi lets his chin rest on his palm, curling his greasy fingers inwards to avoid his seams, “Humor me, Hero. Got a penny if ya need one.” 

Hawks swallows and puts down his fork — ‘eating chicken wings with fuckin’ utensils, what a priss.’ 

“Uh, gonna need a little bit more context here, man…”

He looks so wary.

Dabi sighs and spells it out for the dumb bird, “What would you do, as a hero, if you received a report of child abuse?”

Hawks takes a moment, scratching at his goatee, “Well, investigate, then hopefully make an arrest,” He shrugs, “Abusers should be jailed. I dunno what you want from me beyond that. Random question, dude.”

Dabi, more or less, ignores the confusion in Hawks’ eyes, but he does take note of how Hawks hasn’t continued eating. The hero is sat back, waiting for Dabi to provide the clearly missing context. 

Dabi has to know what kind of person he’s dealing with, because meeting Hawks this past month and seeing his actions on live television make Dabi… tentatively hopeful — about what, he’s not sure, but Dabi doesn’t like surprises, so he has to ask.

“Mm. But, what if that same abuser shows kindness to everyone else, outside those few people?” 

At that, Hawks lets out a scoff, “It’s usually an act, man. Why are you asking me this? I mean, like, yes, yeah it doesn’t matter if they treat others differently. Doesn’t make up for what they’re doing, the people they’re hurting.”

“Uh-huh,” Dabi’s eyes never leave Hawks’ face, noting the expressive curl of blonde eyebrows, bushed up in earnest to match his glinting frown, “And if other people are, say, ‘counting on them’?”

Those blond eyebrows furrow closer, wild hairs almost touching, “What do you mean?” 

Dabi tilts his head away from the palm it rests on and unfurls those fingers one-by-one to count off, “World leaders, presidents, peace figures.... heroes,” and even Dabi knows his voice took a sharp turn at the last item, and he doubts Hawks had missed it.

“I… No, no, it’s still wrong. It’s complicated, yeah, but... it doesn’t matter how much good someone does if that same person is going off to abuse someone else. Especially their own family.”

Dabi doesn’t know why, but hearing that come from a hero does something to him, speaks to a too-short past life, and validates the soft blindspot of his otherwise iron conscience.

Dabi picks off a piece of his own chicken and takes a bite, “Yeah, we’ll see.”

Meanwhile, Hawks looks completely out of sorts. He’s biting his lip, his hand coming up to rub the knuckle of his gloved index right underneath it. 

Dabi waits. 

“I… I didn’t spend a lot of my life with my birth parents. They were abusive. And they were… y’know, what everyone would call ‘bad people’. Drug addicts, thieves. Probably other things, too, I dunno,” and Dabi is listening to every single word, food completely forgotten. Hawks isn’t looking at him, lidded eyes are directed more towards Dabi’s shoulder, and that’s okay because Dabi hasn’t spoken a single word of his own abuse, so he’s not going to judge how others do it. 

The blond’s head shakes, “Ah,” and clearing gold eyes look back to Dabi, “Point is, even they didn’t face consequences for what they did to me. My dad… He’s in jail, but it’s not for what he did to me. And my mom… Commission paid her a hefty check to adopt me, so she's probably off living an even better life — or maybe dead from overdose, I dunno.” 

“Sounds hard,” it’s a shitty response, but Dabi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to reveal his own story, but for all that’s broken and wrong and rotted inside of him, he still feels empathy towards this guy, towards the Number Two Hero.

‘Birds of a feather, ‘n all that.’

“Yeah, well. Just makes me think, if apparently ‘bad people’ can get away with the crime of child abuse — people with practically zero social or economic influence — then, how do the same institutions hold someone with real status accountable?”

Against his desire to appear aloof, Dabi feels the sharp tug of his own lips pulling into a small smile, “Askin’ all the right questions. Best ones have no answer.”

Hawks laughs, and it's the same one as the alley, low and quiet. Soft. 

Dabi wonders if the guy lets himself laugh often. He smiles a lot, that’s for certain, but smiles are always easier to fake than laughter.  

“I have a feeling a lot of villains have this kind of backstory, or something similar, huh.”

“As you?” Dabi raises a brow, the easiest kind of expression he can do to the lack of staples there, a constant reminder of his ‘backstory,’ like he’s a fucking manga character,  “Maybe. ‘Cept they weren’t saved by anyone. No one’s jumpin’ up and down to take care of us. That’s the difference between us,” his index finger flicking back-and-forth in the space between them, “Heroes ‘n villains.”

The laugh that leaves Hawks is wrong this time. It’s bitter and booming — dark, and not nearly as lovely as Dabi found the others.

“Saved. Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Dabi’s stomach churns something sick. He hopes it’s the chicken.

*

The next time Dabi is supposed to meet Hawks, the skin around the staples of his hands feels like it’s on fire. Red, itchy, and, ‘Oh Gods,’ Dabi thinks he’s starting to see something white seep out the seam of his right wrist.  

He used up the last of his supplies two weeks ago. Right now, the only things he has in his apartment are gauze, soap, and tap water that can be boiled. 

Dabi thinks about calling one of the League members, any of them, but after Kamino, there’s been wanted posters of their faces plastered everywhere, mostly definitely around cities nice enough to have open pharmacies.

He calls Hawks. 

“Hello! Where are ya, hot stuff? I’ve been waitin’ for half an hour, and I even took the time to change my clothes.”

Dabi rolls his eyes at the nickname and grips the phone tighter. It makes his wrist burn. He doesn’t waste any time, “Do you have access to any antiseptics or disinfectants right now? Strong ones. Or maybe even antibiotics, like silver sulfadiazine?”

“Burn cream? Uh… not, like, I don’t have any on me. I could get some? Is everything alright?”

Dabi closes his eyes and rubs his brow, “Yeah, I’m gonna send you some new coordinates. Bring the supplies here. And hurry.”

He hangs up and sets to boiling some water. 

Three loud knocks later echo through Dabi’s apartment, and he yells, “Come in!” as he pats his wrists dry with a paper towel. 

“Dabi?” Hawks’ voice rings through the apartment and his large wings come into view from where Dabi stands in the kitchen. Hawks takes his shoes off at the entryway — ‘how well mannered.’ — and perks up when he spots the scarred man.

“Hey! So, I got an assortment of things. Hydrogen peroxide, saline, antibacterial ointment, got the silver sulfadiazine like you asked — that shit is expensive without a coupon — and, oh! I got these, like, film coverings, pharmacist calls ‘em ‘nanocrystalline silver dressing’ , supposed to be better for fighting infection,” He shrugs, “I also went ahead and got some other things like gauze, dressing, Q-tips, pins,” and sets the plastic bag on the countertop,  “Here, take a look.”

Dabi does, with his eyes because he doesn’t want his freshly cleaned wrists getting even more infected with whatever bacteria could be on the plastic bag or any of these items. 

“... Damn. Thanks, Birdy,” He’s honestly shocked Hawks got this much stuff. 

He ignores the way his heart beats faster, ‘Might finally be the sepsis.’

When Dabi looks back up at the guy, his feathers are wiggling again, something Dabi has come to understand what the hero does when he’s somewhat pleased, “Uh, can you wash your hands over there in the sink and pull out the… Hm, the silver dressing, white dressing, and the gauze? Just set it on the counter, I’ll be right back.”

Dabi walks over to his bathroom, hearing the affirmative, “Sure!” from the hero, and closes the door with his elbow. 

He needs a minute. 

‘I can’t believe I just let an undercover hero into my apartment. Am I going to have to move? Fuck… fuck, fuck!’

“Shit,” he whispers to himself as he opens his medicine cabinet and fetches a pair of tweezers and a box of latex gloves.

‘I can’t believe he bought all that stuff. Dude’s loaded, that’s fine and all, but… what the fuck? I only asked for the burn cream…’ 

Dabi shakes his head, closes the medicine cabinet, and is greeted with the reflection of his own confused expression, etched by a small crack at the upper left side. He takes a minute to look at the man staring back at him, looking at his scars and his freshly dyed roots. He knows he’s a frightening sight, something out of nightmares and horror movies. 

He hates looking at himself, sometimes. He knows others do, too. 

Some nights, the vulnerability of his upsettingly-human psyche will claw its way out like the vicious beast it is, and force him to understand his loneliness. On those nights, he will understand why people turned away a half-dead teen, why store owners chased him out with their bats and mops, and why heroes will always, always attack on-sight upon seeing Dabi’s face. 

He will understand why the League’s bar is really the one place he can ever sip his drink in peace and enjoy the burn at the back of his throat without some prick trying to slip him paper bills in exchange for things he can’t even say out loud. On those nights, the righteous anger will leave his body like steam from boiling water, and leave him hollow and cold and so, very, very alone. 

He wonders if tonight will be one of those nights. 

“Uh, Dabi? You alright in there?”

Dabi blinks out and away from his reflection, ‘Maybe not,’ and leaves his bathroom. 

When he comes back to the kitchen, all the supplies he asked for are out and ready to use. Hawks sits on Dabi’s only stool, waiting.

Dabi didn’t get a chance to really look at the guy, until now. The hero did end up changing his attire for tonight — black sweatshirt, normal jeans that are still on the baggier side, and black boots closer to the kind in fashion magazines than those hideously yellow rainboots he normally tends to wear. When Dabi lifts his eyes back up, he notices the hero’s hair looks a bit different, a little more chaotic, and a little less stiff — it looks soft. 

‘Oh, pull it fucking together.’

Dabi clears his throat and hands over the box of latex gloves, “Do you mind helping me out? I just need you to do this wrist, and then I can work on the other.”

Hawks is nodding and stretching the gloves over his hands before Dabi even finishes his sentence. 

“Y’know, your place isn’t anything like I’d thought it’d be. ‘S nice. Clean.” 

Dabi hears a snap! and a muttered, “shit.”

He opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong before he looks at Hawks’ hand, and sees matte black claws curving out fingers loosely lined with tattered blue latex.

“Oh.”

“Heh,” Hawks laughs, a bit nervously, “Sorry ‘bout that. My own gloves are so thick, I forget I have these.”

“Why am I just now seeing these?” Dabi wonders out loud, eyes glued to the tips of talons he could have sworn that, for a split second, sparkled at him, “Shit. Those are fucking sharp, man. You’re tellin’ me you don’t fight with ‘em?” He doesn’t really pay attention to broadcasts of hero fights but from the ones he’s seen, the Number Two’s hands were always gloved.

“Ah,” Hawks starts to pull a fresh latex glove over his hand again, leaving some space between the ends of each finger for his talons this time, “That wouldn’t be very heroic, would it? There’d be a lot of… blood. Kids don’t need to see that kind of gore in the news, y’know.”

Dabi raises an eyebrow, “I… guess....” 

Honestly, Dabi thinks that’s a bullshit excuse, to not use something so clearly advantageous in serious combat, especially when the hero's life is on the line practically every day, ‘Even if he doesn’t want to use them, why does he cover them?’

He lets the matter be, for now, and looks over the directions on the box of the nanocrystalline silver dressing. He reads it twice, just to make sure. 

Hawks speaks up, apparently needing to hear his own voice again, “The directions say that for exudative wounds, you should apply the dressing dry.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

“So... Let’s get started!” 

Dabi huffs. He hates that he needs help but he’s always been shit with his right hand, and he doesn’t want to risk dropping anything. He lays his left hand out towards Hawks and critically watches every move the man makes. 

Hawks is extremely gentle, and he dresses the wound as if he’s done this a thousand times over. The hero’s eyes never leave Dabi’s wrist, except for the few times he’d go over and read the instructions again to make sure he’s doing everything right. He cradles Dabi’s forearm with one hand as he uses the other to smooth the silver dressing on, the pressure of his fingers light around the staples and firm around the skin. After he applies the secondary dressing, he briefly looks up at Dabi to ask, “You alright?” 

Dabi can only nod. 

When the gauze is wrapped and firmly pinned in place, Hawks finally lets go and Dabi takes a step back to breathe.  

He immediately sets to work on his other hand, moistening the silver dressing with the clean water he’d boiled earlier on. 

“You sure you don’t want help with the other hand? I’ve been trained in this kinda stuff, first aid. I don’t mind.”

‘Well, that explains a little.’  

Still, Dabi shakes his head, “I prefer to do it myself,” and there’s truth in that, it’s the absolute truth, Dabi likes to do things himself. He likes things done his way, and he doesn’t like being touched. 

But the gentle feeling of Hawks’ fingers on his skin urges him to reconsider. 

He won’t, but some part of him wishes he would. 

As he starts to apply the silver dressing with his tweezers, he hears Hawks ask, “Can I ask you something really personal? Like, probably boundary-crossing?”

Dabi’s eyes never leave his working hands, “You got a lot of nerve, Birdbrain, thinkin’ we’re cool like that.”

He hears a small squawk, “C’mon, dude! I’m in your apartment, per your request! I think we’re along the lines of something, ‘like that’.”

Dabi snorts, “I won’t stop you, but don’t be surprised if I tell you to fuck off.”

Hawks laughs — the same small breathy one that makes Dabi’s own mouth quirk up.

Hawks asks why his body is full of scars.  

And Dabi… Well, every passing day, Dabi feels himself getting closer to death and, tonight, it makes his lips a little loose. Maybe he just wants someone to know his story, maybe he wants to try saying it out loud. And if he’s gonna tell his tale, it might as well be in the company of his favorite little double-agent.

When he finishes wrapping up the gauze around his right wrist, he digs for the cigarette packet deep in his pocket, takes out a stick, and lights it up. 

“My father,” He begins, “He’s the reason I’m like this, the reason I look like this, act this way. I know the whole ‘daddy issues’ thing is overrated but, well,” He shrugs, not daring to look up from his apartment floor. He takes another puff, the nicotine in his veins calming him, the smoke down his throat grounding him. He remembers his conviction, “That man took everything from me, left me like this, and he only ever got rewarded.”

He briefly glances at Hawks, the man’s gold eyes filled with an empathetic sorrow that only people like them could give each other, “I’m sorry.”

Dabi shakes his head and looks away, because he can’t deal with this, can’t have someone looking at him like that, not after all these years, “Not your fault. Nothing to be sorry for.”

“He’ll burn,” Hawks says, and Dabi sees the man’s fists clench from the corner of his eye, “Wherever he is, one way or another, he’ll burn.”

Dabi doesn’t know what kind of feelings are running through the hero right now. He thinks that maybe if he looks up, he might see.

‘Is he angry? Is it for me? Does he pity me, feel sorry for me? Is he triggered by my story the way I was by his? Or is he just telling me what he thinks I want to hear?’ — but Dabi doesn’t want to see. 

Because if Hawks only knew who Dabi’s father was, who made him like this, and did this to him, he doesn’t want to know if the hero would look at him the same way gold eyes do now. 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, Birdy.”

Dabi walks over to his worn-out couch and sits down with a tired sigh. Hawks follows. 

For the next ten minutes, Dabi relays small bits and pieces of League information to Hawks, and the hero returns with tidbits of hero business. 

It honestly just feels like a way to fill the time. 

When a moment of silence reaches them, and Dabi’s cigarette has burned all the way through the filter, Dabi speaks up about something he kept quiet to himself last time, “Say, since you asked me a deeply personal question, grant me the same privilege?” 

“Sure, as long as I get the same privilege of tellin’ you to fuck off if I want.”

Dabi snorts and ashes his cigarette, tilts his head towards the hero.

“Was I wrong? Back then, about the Commission saving you?” 

He sees Hawks bite his lips and sink deeper into the sofa cushions, tilting his head back. He sighs, “You’re an observant fucker, aren’t you?”

Dabi smirks, “What villain isn’t?” 

“The ones that get caught.”

And at that, Dabi barks a laugh and is honestly shocked at the sound of it. He thinks Hawks is, too, by the way his blond eyebrows round up, and his previously conflicted eyes soften. 

Hawks lifts one of his clawed hands up, and if Dabi didn’t know better, he’d think the gesture was some kind of show-and-tell, but at the way Hawks’ own eyes glaze over his talons, Dabi thinks the movement is more for the hero’s own comfort. 

“I lied earlier, about the reason I don’t fight with my claws,” Hawks finally says, softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. 

Dabi knows to keep quiet. 

“I do care about wanting kids to live in a safer world, to… spare them. Of the horrific consequences that come from battles, traumatizing images ‘n all that stuff. Of course, I care about that. But… But I know my abilities. If allowed, I know I’d be able to use my claws in ways that wouldn’t end in some kind of, fucking , feral episode.”

Dabi’s eyebrows slowly knit together, “Allowed?”

Golden eyes flick over to Dabi’s and the vulnerability swirling in them makes the scarred man want… something.

To gasp, reach out, put his own wrapped hands over the talons, and warm them up a bit, just — something.

He’s horrified at these new and intrusive thoughts. 

Instead of doing anything, he waits. 

“The Commission,” Hawks drops his hand to his lap and averts his eyes there, “They have an image of what they believe society wants a hero to look like, along with other things. They… told me they were ‘correcting’ my flaws.”

There’s a beat of heavy, waiting silence.

“They appreciate my quirk — it’s strong and versatile, good for offense, defense, rescue — stuff like that. But they don’t… They hate my raptor genes, the mutations. Like, the only thing I’m allowed to have and show are my wings — everything else has to be hidden or removed. I’m a mutant, but I have to do everything I can to look as ‘humane’ as possible.”

‘What is even considered ‘humane’, in a society of quirked-people?’ 

Dabi is immediately reminded of his hatred towards hero society, “Shit, what the fuck, Birdy. Is that why you wear those stupid-ass gloves?”

Hawks sends a bitter and sad smile to Dabi, “Was the only way to convince them to let me keep my talons. They used to clip ‘em or file them down, but that fucking hurts and they grow back wrong, so. Yeah, got these gloves and told them I’ll never take ‘em off.”

“Tch,” Dabi feels so disgusted right now, at the people who run this society, “So they make you nice ‘n pretty for everyone to look at while they profit of’a’ya. Sick.”

“Yeah, well,” Hawks huffs a laugh, and it’s the one that makes Dabi feel sick to his stomach, “I’m the Number Two Hero, with my own agency! All at the tender age of twenty-four — oops, sorry, twenty-two, Commission fudged my age to make me look even more impressive. An eighteen-year-old success story is prettier than a twenty-year-old one.”

Bile threatens to well up in Dabi’s throat at that — the effort to make this hero fit into society’s obsession with the ‘barely legal’ trope.

“I should be grateful, right?” Hawks bitterly smiles, “Everybody wants to fuck me and every hero wants to be me.”

“Fuck outta here if you’re gonna talk like that, Birdbrain.”

Pink lips bite themselves into a smile, one so much more shy and on the edge of mischievous, “Wanna see my feet?”

“What the fuck?”

He does. He really does.

read full chapter here

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[menofsweaters]

Posting this again because we're up to Chapter 7 out of a planned twenty (!!) chapters and I just updated the tags and summary. I've been really touched by the number of comments and general engagement with this fic. I think it's a unique AU that seems to appeal to a lot of readers, including those who don't normally ship Endhawks.

A huge thank you to my writing partner @perpetual-enjine for being a constant source of support and inspiration, and also for putting up with my incessant chattering.

Please check it out if you like Endhawks, happy Todoroki family vibes, and a twist on the usual No Quirks AU! Secondary ships are the usual suspects of Jeanshot and Shigadabi, but you can look forward to a future All Might ship to be revealed later. 💛