have I uh... ever mentioned my DabiZawa thoughts

specifically ... how A/B/O society would deal with dangerous Omega villains in captivity...👀
villains being paired with alpha heroes for their heats so they can’t take advantage of or hurt civilians or regular heat service workers who might be brought in to help Heroes etc
This lanky ass villain - who looks like he should be an Alpha, albeit emaciated and scarred all to hell - ends up being an Omega whose system fucking /loses/ it when he finally gets proper medical attention and enough to eat.
He's thrashing around from the heat, feral enough that the doctor's observing are pretty sure he's been illegally & illicitly suppressing with some back-alley brew suppressants, possibly since he presented.
There's also the fact that he needs /significant/ pain management with his grafts & extensive scarring.

Once they'd had him in custody for 48 hours, his dismissive attitude vanished & an awful pain-scent filled his cell.
It's dangerous to keep tranquing a person as surprisingly frail as Dabi turned out to be, but they can't risk going in with him conscious & having a working quirk.

His grafts are infected, rejecting in some places, cracked and scarred in others. Quirk cuffs aren't an option.
uhh cw: medical trauma, scarring, gross body shit?

--

They think he might have been using his fire to melt the grafts onto him between whatever 'doctors' he was able to see on the street.
He's too weak to have a quirk healer come in. He's also obviously going to need /some/ kind of Alpha contact to help subdue this heat.

So. The solution's not /great/, and obviously pretty fucked up considering they can't actually /ask/ Dabi about it, but they get an Alpha.
Aizawa's done lots of strange, hushed up jobs as an underground Hero.

Being secretly brought into the locked down medical wing of Tartarus for a 'mission' is suspicious, but he goes anyway.
The absolutely /appalling/ pain and heat scent hits him as the doctors open the door to an /extremely/ reinforced cell, & he jerks back to glare at the staff around him.

"Tell me this isn't what I think it is." There's a general attempt to avoid his gleaming, glaring red eyes.
"I am not /fucking/ an Omega in custody, villain or not. He needs a goddamn /surgeon/, not an Alpha."

The doc in charge of the case steps forward, a towering Alpha female with black eyes.

"Can't do a surgery without anaesthesia. Can't /give/ him anaesthesia while he's in heat."
"That's ridiculous, all sub-genders have been operated on in emergency situations during cycles," he argues.

The doctor flings an arm out at the open door. "/Look/ at him, and you tell me if you think his heart can survive an operating table right now."
She rubs the bridge of her nose. Aizawa can't smell anything from her, or any other member of the staff. He's the only one without patches.

They did /that/ on purpose, obviously.
"We understand this is /not/ a humane thing to do. Villains in captivity have options, when they are /conscious/ and able to consent to a suppressant, heat aid, or a relief service. He is too injured too put any traditional quirk suppressant restraints on without further damage."
Aizawa leans around the door again, eyeing the mess of a bed & the person inside it.

"You don't need to fuck him if that's too much. Use a heat aid. Put your wrist in his face, suppress his quirk - help him /survive/ so we can make sure he gets a choice in future."
Aizawa's quiet for a long minute, staring at the scorch marks on the inside of the door before a growl escapes him.

"This is a fucking travesty. /Fine/. Give me an aid, and lube. Gloves, too," he adds.
The doctor nods. "His immune system's .. well, it's atrocious, he's lucky to have a quirk that can burn most pathogens out before anything takes hold, but with those open grafts rejecting... gloves are best. Honestly, as little as you can touch him would be advisable."
Aizawa shrugs off his coat and moves to throw it onto one of the lab tables, but tucks it beneath his arm instead. Dabi has no nest, no scented materials, nothing to help the instinct side calm down.

"Can you sanitize this but have it retain scent?"
"We'll sanitize the coat, have you clean either wrist or throat, and then you can re-scent. Less risk, that way."

Aizawa closes his eyes, digging into his pocket for the drops there. He's going to need to focus to take care of this mess.
Twenty minutes later, Dabi's groggy and his hands twitch on the bed, bandaged arms dragging over the sheets as he curves around his stomach.

Aizawa scowls at the tray-table rolled in with him. It's a farcical attempt to make the /sex supplies/ look more medical.
He focuses on Dabi momentarily, judging the strength in his body before looking down at his supplies.

The door slams shut & seals, a little /hiss/ signifying the insular air system is recirculating. Aizawa's scent will amplify in the closed space, hopefully helping the heat.
His nose wrinkles at the increase in Dabi's pain scent, as well as the scent of decay and burnt flesh. Nothing to be done about that.

Aizawa slides a pair of gloves on and stalks closer to the bed, delicately lifting the black sheets away from the sprawled villain.
The reason for the black is immediately obvious. His whole torso, legs, arms, back - everywhere is just.. a goddamn /mess/. He should be in a burn ward on a drip, not laying on dry sheets with his legs splayed open, half-conscious and in heat.
Aizawa can't help remembering the sound Dabi's arms made as they broke in his grip. That was just a copy, but he still feels odd about being intimate with someone he'd all but tortured for information.
This is the real thing, and the scent is much stronger. Aizawa focuses, though he doesn't bring his quirk into play just yet.

Dabi's still coming to, muscles tightening and going slack in other places.
It's easy to coax one thigh open and to the side, though Aizawa's careful to grip Dabi on the scarred skin instead of on the infected lines connecting the small sections of healthy tissue. And there truly is not a lot of it.
Mainly, the top of his thighs to just above his groin, below his ankles, a small, distorted section of his belly, one pec with a pierced nipple, and some of his back and face. Dabi's hands, as well, although those look more messed up since the last time Aizawa encountered him.
Dabi's hisses and Aizawa activates his quirk as the scent of /burning/ rises in the room, heat swelling beneath his hands.

"/You/," Dabi snarls, weak and furious.

Aizawa can't blame him for being pissed. He'd be pissed to, waking up to find himself naked & captured.
Dabi's hand lashes out, claws curling around Aizawa's arm.

Aizawa lets him take hold, but releases a deep, Commanding growl at the same time. He needs to take charge of this situation, keep Dabi from quite literally tearing himself apart.
"//Stay still//," he grits out, meeting the ice blue eyes staring daggers up at him.

"You fuck, raping an Omega in custody, huh?" Dabi's head sinks back into his pillow. "Didn't put it past the Heroes, but this is.. aghhh.. fucking /low/," he growls, legs twitching.
"I'm not going to fuck you. I'm here to make sure you don't rip off that mess you call skin while you get through your heat."

Dabi's face twists. Maybe a smirk, maybe a growl or a clench of teeth. It's impossible to tell, really.
The more Aizawa keeps breathing in the same room, the easier some scents are to put aside as the 'norm'. The burnt flesh, the pain - but what's new is the slick, as well as the /fear/.

Dabi's .. terrified.
Whether of him or of his heat, it's unclear.

Aizawa's stomach twists, either way. His Alpha balks at the fear, knowing it for the rejection it is. He doesn't /want/ to engage an Omega who clearly wants nothing to do with him. But he has a... /job/ to do.
The scent increases as he reaches back to the tray-table, rolling the lube toward him.

Dabi's inner thighs shake from the effort of fighting against the quirk. There's a line of blood from his grafts leading down to his groin.
CW: trans Omega Dabi, AFAB/AMAB terms
--

Aizawa just going to have to deal with looking at & touching a naked Omega who obviously would like nothing more than to melt his bones into crumbling ash.
Dabi's got a short shock of white pubic hair around his sex. Aizawa's glad he's mastered a blank face, because he'd definitely be raising his eyebrows at the bright gleam of metal going vertically through the hood of Dabi's clit.

Figures he'd be full of metal, top to bottom.
Dabi sneers at him, a few curses spilling out into the room as Aizawa upends the lube over his glove. The curses are bitten off into silence when he smears it between Dabi's legs, mixing with the slick already there.
Dabi's hormones are probably out of whack with whatever trash illegal suppressants he'd managed to get on the street, not to mention whatever hormones he managed to take.

Hopefully once he's healed his doctor can get him on something that's /not/ cut with narcotics or worse.
Dabi growls low in his throat as Aizawa spreads him open, eyes fixed between his legs. It feels somehow less intimate, less invasive, to be staring at the Omega's sex than it would to be locking eyes with him.
It's just... fucked up. This feels like more privacy than watching every minute expression seep through the carefully crafted veneer of disinterest Dabi so often affects.

There's a stifled sound as Aizawa strokes a finger down over Dabi's hole, gently easing inside.
Aizawa's Alpha /wants/ to look, to watch the Omega lose himself to pleasure instead of the obvious pain he's been stuck living through - possibly for /years/.
But that's not what Dabi needs. He needs a knot & Alpha pheromones, not a pitying Hero stroking his own ego by getting a villain off.

He thumbs the swell of Dabi's clit, the jewelry above shifting against his glove. Dabi's breath catches, legs jerking around Aizawa's forearm.
"Fuck you." The curse wheezes out of Dabi. His insides squeeze on Aizawa's finger, hips lifting as another finger presses inside.

Aizawa remembers the size of the heat aid they laid out on the tray, especially the knot that would /actually/ bring relief.
Dabi's a little too tight for that, yet. Aizawa finds his thoughts wandering, stumbling over themselves in the joint effort of both avoiding and examining the possibility that this is both Dabi's first real heat as well as his first time taking something inside.
It's not his business, he doesn't /care/, but it's - it /is/ something to keep in mind for how he treats the Omega throughout this.

If Dabi's a fucking /virgin/, Aizawa's going to have to guide him through this even more than he'd already planned.
Dabi obviously won't tolerate pitying. And forcing him through whatever Aizawa decides is 'best' isn't how he wants to deal with this.

That'd be exactly what Dabi expects. From what he said earlier, his perceptions of being held captive by Heroes is already beyond negative.
So. Slow and steady, apparently. He's going to have to time his blinks carefully, considering this is obviously going to take a while.

Dabi's body is wound tight with anger, fear, and anticipation - none of which is conducive to orgasms and relieving a heat.
He won't even /bother/ reaching for the heat aid yet. Probably bringing Dabi off with his hands first is best. He's done it enough in the past with Hizashi and a handful of other Heroes who wanted a quick, no-strings roll around.
Aizawa focuses, bringing his second hand into the mix. Dabi's hand tugs at it, trying to keep him from reaching between his legs, but the Command and the pain from his infection, plus the mire of hormones and sensations from the heat make his resistance flimsy at best.
With two hands it's easier to split his tasks. One hand for fingering and stretching Dabi out, getting him used to something inside him. The second for keeping him distracted with what Aizawa assumes is likely more familiar pleasure.
He knows plenty of Omegas who like a good clit rub-off over riding a fake dick. And plenty who like the reverse.

It's hard to generalize, honestly.

And making assumptions about a villain who he /never/ considered in a sexual way before now is useless.
He's just going to learn what gets Dabi off on the fly, apparently.

A deep, gruff sound chokes out of Dabi as Aizawa spread his fingers over his clit, pressing into his mound and stroking the surrounding tissue before drawing back to the tip of his clit.
There's a definite responding squeeze inside from that, and Aizawa rubs a finger over the clit again, noting the slight upward tilt of scarred hips and the warm bloom of slick around his fingers.

Definitely starting to get somewhere.
Dabi's fingers dig into Aizawa's forearm, still refusing to let go, even if all he's doing now is hanging on for the ride.

Aizawa can't fault him for trying to find at least /some/ aspect of this situation to control.
Honestly, he's better with his mouth than his fingers, but that's just /asking/ to lose control of his quirk and get scorched to death.

Besides, he /highly/ doubts the villain would appreciate something so intimate.
Fingers & toys are one thing- going down on someone is much less impersonal.

Of course the instant oral crosses his mind, his Alpha helpfully provides an image of purple-scarred thighs over his shoulders, black-painted fingernails dug into his hair, pulling his mouth into place.
Aizawa just /barely/ manages to avoid blinking at the distracting thought, teeth gritting together.

/Focus/.

He's not here to get off, he's here to make sure Dabi doesn't tear his own skin off and /die/.
Dabi's hips are /definitely/ moving into his touch now. The lube's spread all over his groin and inner thighs, a shiny gleam spread up through the short white hair around his sex and all the down to mix with the line of blood from the graft-lines on his thighs.
Aizawa's breathing slow and deep, quiet and practiced from years in the field. Dabi's breathing could best be described as a wheeze. If he was being unkind, it sounds like a goddamn /death rattle/, hoarse and whistling out between clenched teeth.
Dabi's scent is angry & /horny/ - it's clear he's /pissed/ about getting off on a Hero's fingers, but Aizawa & his heat aren't giving him much choice.

A stroke of his fingers accidentally pinches Dabi's clit up against the lower bead of his piercing and a /groan/ fills the room.
Aizawa folds that knowledge into the rest of what he's gathering gets Dabi off. Makes sense that years of pain would have him finding some parts of it arousing.

Even so, Aizawa's careful with the pressure. Dabi's not exactly in the right frame of mind to say 'too much'.
Or be /trusted/ to say when it's too much.

Considering how he'd bitten off screams of pain even as a copy suffering broken bones, Aizawa feels he's safe to assume the real Dabi is equally shit at admitting he can't take as much pain as Aizawa is capable of dishing out.
Aizawa hasn't been doing much inside other than stroking into Dabi's walls, occasionally spreading his fingers apart a little to encourage the Omega to slick, to get used to stretching a little in preparation for a knot.
With Dabi moving his hips now, his fingers slide in and out, syncing up with the stroke of his other hand over Dabi's clit.

That awful raspy breathing gets faster, catching around restrained moans with each flex of Dabi's hips.
Aizawa's earlier Command's faded, obviously. Dabi's aware of it, and Aizawa pauses at the feet planting against the bed, wondering if he should lay out a new Command.

Dabi doesn't kick him or struggle, just uses the leverage to push into Aizawa's hand.
A gleam of metal catches Aizawa's eye and he /narrowly/ avoids blinking as he follows the movement. Dabi's face is turned to the wall, a muscle jumping in the purple skin of his jaw, throat flexed and straining with the arch of his body.
The sheet's bunched up in one of his fists, the bandage-covered seam at his wrist oozing dark blood.

Aizawa eyes the outline of the staples holding his grafts together. They /look/ like they'll hold, but Dabi's also not in the /worst/ of his heat yet.
He doesn't even seem to be burrowing into his own scent for comfort, or reaching for any scent at all. With every new thing Aizawa sees, he's more convinced this is Dabi's first real heat.

Aizawa's coat is hanging off the side of the tray, freshly sanitized and scented.
Dabi might hate him but it's Alpha scent, no matter the source. At least he isn't pumping out a bitter, combative scent like most people around Dabi. A faint hint of reluctance for the situation, maybe.
Aizawa had rubbed the coat all over his throat and wrists, so it was definitely suitable nest material.

Did Dabi even /know/ how to nest? Surely he'd made one for his presenting heat - or whatever pup-style cycle he had before venturing out into the world on his own.
Dabi's hips roll up and away from Aizawa's hands, almost like he's trying to escape the sensation.

Pleasure might be overwhelming for him. Or maybe he's just instinctually struggling against someone else's hands on him.
Aizawa crooks his fingers inside Dabi and spreads them apart, sliding them in and out a little faster than before. Dabi's hips jerk, and Aizawa strokes deliberately over the deep pink swell of his clit, tugging the pierced hood gently back.
Dabi does moan then, a stifled curse cutting off the desperate sound before it fully escapes him.

Aizawa repeats the motion, stroking and thrusting, slowly pushing out his scent. He won't... he'll /try/ not to have to use a verbal Command again, use pheromones instead.
He's aroused by this, which is something he has to file away into the place many other incomprehensible things from various missions go that he can't process.
At least not now. He can drag himself over the coals later when he revisits the scent in the air and the burning insides wrapped tight around his fingers.

The alluring, scarred neck arched away, exposing skin that would normally display a flushed, swollen scent gland.
Dabi's scent glands are circular ridges lost in a sea of purple scars. Maybe with some burn treatment and quirk healing he'll regain more regular function in the mating glands on his throat. Currently, the ones at his inner thighs are doing the most in giving off his scent.
There's a sudden surge of /want/ from his Alpha at the wave of scent flooding the room. It's obvious what's happening, especially when Dabi loses control of his voice, thighs clamping round Aizawa's arms with a hoarse shout.
Dabi doesn't writhe or buck like Aizawa worried he might. He arches up, feet sliding out and up, knees twitching up and together as if to curl around his belly.

Aizawa eases the pressure on Dabi's clit, coaxing him through the spasms until his legs collapse back to the sheets.
Aizawa lifts his gaze to Dabi's face, taking in the dropped open mouth and closed eyes. Dabi's gone soft and lax around him, legs splayed out against the bed.

Aizawa blinks, expecting immediate flames touting up around him.
Dabi's still panting and wheezing for breath when he opens his eyes, just the regular heat in his body.

Aizawa eases his fingers out, resisting the animal urge to lick the proof he satisfied the Omega before him off of his gloves.
He blinks again while Dabi gets his breathing back under control. He doesn't know when he's going to have to use his quirk again, so blinking now is a luxury.

In between blinks, he assesses the state of Dabi's body.
The Omega's heat is already spiralling up again, Aizawa can smell it pouring from the glands between is legs. Not to mention the puffy, deep pink look of his sex.

He's /wet/, and it's clearly not just the lube making him that way.
Dabi will probably be able to take the heat aid soon. He'll probably stop /enjoying/ orgasms like the one Aizawa just gave him as his heat gets stronger. Without a knot, or even a pseudo replacement, his body's just going to make this experience worse.
There's water bottles on the lower shelf of the tray-table. Dabi hasn't been eating since his heat started, and he definitely hasn't drunk enough.

Aizawa looks quickly to make sure he's reaching to the right place before activating his quirk and grabbing for the bottles.
An Omega in heat, as well as a /burn victim/ in heat, is going to need ten times the water someone else might.

Aizawa presses the cold water bottle into Dabi's sprawled open hand, waiting until his fingers close instinctively around it.
Aizawa cracks his own bottle and takes a long drink, eyeing Dabi while he drinks. Dabi's getting too alert to trust without Aizawa using his quirk.

"Hey, drink that," he growls, staring at one of Dabi's bent legs instead of scarred, slicked flesh.
Dabi's head rolls slowly on his shoulder to glare up at Aizawa. He swings a hand over his body and tugs at the lid until the seal releases, spilling some water over his chest with his first few sips.
"Can't have the new toy passing out, can we?" Dabi snarls, tipping his head back tor another long swig.

Aizawa's stomach turns at the thought. The worst part is he doesn't know if he believes enough in the Hero world to dismiss Dabi's claims.
The doctor team here wants to 'heal' him. They want him helped through his heat.

They chose an underground Hero to do that. Someone not in the public eye.

The implications build up, even if Aizawa wishes he weren't able to see them.
Dabi drains the rest of the bottle and lays flat for a few seconds, before he grimaces and curves around his belly.

Aizawa takes the distraction to look at the tray table, the innocent heat aid laid out for use.
~ TBC, QRT to comment (please don't break the thread!)

👀🔥
Start 📜 https://twitter.com/bear_coughing/status/1281484642055421952?s=20
It’s standard silicone, about four inches long with three inches of knot at the base. It’s not a particularly /massive/ knot, a little smaller than one of Dabi’s clenched fists, from Aizawa’s estimate. Dabi can probably take it now that he’s had an orgasm & started loosening up.
Instinctive elasticity & muscle responses are likely active, though Aizawa will have to be careful to monitor Dabi as he takes the knot.
This is a mess of a cycle.

He might not make enough slick, relax sufficiently inside, or a host of other little unconscious physical things that make an Omega taking a knot feasible.
Well. Aizawa has lube and an indeterminate amount of time to get Dabi loose and wet enough to try for it. He blinks again and rolls his neck a little. It’s sore from sitting leaned over the bed, neck tipped to one side to stare between Dabi’s legs.
Aizawa scoops the heat aid off the table & leaves it on the tangle of sheets at the edge of the bed for easy access.

Dabi’s legs shift and Aizawa’s quirk leaps into action, natural suspicion outweighing any leniency he might think to show.
Dabi’s strong and /wild/ despite his various ailments, and Aizawa would do well not to underestimate what he’s capable of when provoked.

Aizawa scans the length of the villain as he sags slowly back into the bedding, a scarred arm hooking up over his eyes.
His teeth are gritted together, scarred tissue bulging a little over the flex of his jaw muscles. Dabi swallows a few times in a row, a rasping breath rattling through his narrow frame.
Aizawa casts a glance at one of the neatly concealed cameras and the lights in the room immediately dim. It’s plenty enough for him to use his quirk by, but should hopefully aggravate Dabi less.
He’d compartmentalized his feelings to being /watched/ service this Omega before entering the room.

Dabi didn’t know, or at least didn’t have concrete proof he was being monitored & Aizawa didn’t need to add more fuel to the flame of his hatred & suspicion of Heroes & captivity.
Dabi’s stress and resistance to being pushed through a heat with an unwanted Alpha partner have pushed him into a state where his senses are too activated. The lull in sensation after an orgasm probably sent a surge of anxiety & new sensory information hurtling through him,
all of which would be hard enough to process /without/ massive infections raging through one’s body.

Aizawa’s guided friends and heat-partners through overstimulation before, but those people had all been otherwise healthy as well as willingly seeking comfort.
Dabi is neither of those things, and the idea of getting this stubborn person to concede that he might /not/ be able to handle himself is…. /highly/ unlikely.
The scent in the room eases out of that panicked, nauseous state with the lights dimmed. There’s still nerves and anger, obviously, because one orgasm doesn’t change a person’s entire worldview, or the circumstances of their captivity.
But at least there’s a base interaction between them now that /isn’t/ Aizawa kneeling on Dabi’s back and snapping his arms for information.

Dabi shifts finally, arm lifting a little before he lets it slide up off his face to sprawl onto the scattered blankets and pillows.
Aizawa resists the urge to comfort him, his Alpha sending a helpful image of a big hand curled around Dabi’s leg. Except the image in his mind doesn’t include the nasty infection marks on the Omega’s legs, nor the fact that putting his hands on Dabi like that
outside of bringing him off most definitely is going to result in a fight.

Not the point of him being here. He’s here to get Dabi through the heat without giving him a) a heart attack, and b) peeling his awful grafts off him en masse with excessive aggression.
Dabi’s breathing is still awful and rasping, shuddering occasionally when he bites at his own lips. Aizawa can see him twisting a little, legs cinching in together. There’s a clear surge of arousal in the room, and Aizawa can see the gleam of slick welling up in the Omega’s slit.
No rest for the wicked, apparently.

Dabi hisses as Aizawa reaches between his legs again, blue sparks spitting into life around his limbs before cutting off into nothing. Aizawa nulls the quirk, staring up at the ragged heave of Dabi’s chest.
Dabi’s /hot/ around his fingers, like sinking his hand into a near boiling bath, flinching from the heat at first before growing used to the intensity.

He’s also wetter than before, and three fingers slide in with ease, despite the muttered curse from Dabi at the stretch.
This would be enough if he was pairing with another Omega or a Beta, but for actual heat relief from a knot - he’s still going to need a bit more relaxing.

Aizawa’s skin prickles and he lifts his gaze, eyes narrowing but staying open at the brilliant blue gaze locked on him.
It’s… uncomfortable, to say the least.

Dabi’s mouth is partially open, a snarl or a pant for breath, it’s hard to differentiate. His hands squeeze at the black sheets, little dark trails leaking from the staples at his wrists.
Apart from the occasional stifled groan from Dabi, the room’s dead silent.

Aizawa’s heart beats harder at the wave of poisonous anger mixed with slick. It’s a heady compound, hard to resist pulling away since it’s so /obviously/ a rejection of his Alpha and his help,
but Aizawa’s grown used to dismissing instinctive signals.

He has to, to be a Hero.

But this feels nothing like being a Hero. There’s nothing /heroic/ about forcing someone through a cycle, putting his hands on someone who doesn’t want him to, even if he hasn’t said ‘no’.
It’s sickening to know he still /likes/ the scent of Dabi’s pleasure, despite all the negatives that come along with it, all the awful, self-flagellating thoughts he’s going to bring out of here with him after this experience.
Dabi’s nose flares, mouth splitting at the edges in a feral grin. “Smelling real /guilty/ there, Eraser - /nnhh, fuck/..”

Aizawa strokes the same place harder, spreading his fingers a little and noting the way Dabi’s whole lower half convulses at the change.
He can handle Dabi getting mouthy about this. Screaming his way through it, even. If that’s going to make him feel more in control, Aizawa can endure it.
It’s not about him. He’s just another tool helping Dabi not rip himself in pieces while coming down from who /knew/ how many drugs and landing in the acidic quicksand of an unprepared-for, /virgin/ heat.
Dabi laughs, a hysteric sound that morphs into a shattered moan when Aizawa strokes his clit with his thumb, tracing the swollen edge of his slit, pink-tinged slick spreading over pale skin and white hair.
Dabi’s hands lash out all at once, wrapping around Aizawa’s forearms with a venomous hiss. Aizawa’s mouth opens, ready to Command him back down, but it’s clear that’s not needed.
Dabi’s not fighting him, he’s pushing Aizawa’s hands harder into his sex, arching up and cursing - /cumming/ harder than the first time and clearly, /pissed/ about it.

“Ahhh… ghh… /Fuck you/,” Dabi hisses, sagging back into the bed.
Aizawa’s whole /wrist/ is soaked. He’d been staring too hard at Dabi’s furious, scrunched up face to really process the villain tightening and /squirting/ on the fingers pumping inside him.
Dabi doesn’t seem as knocked out by this one as the first, despite the increased strength of the orgasm. The heat’s clearly begun dialling up in intensity, cutting down the usual refractory period so the Omega in question can go and /go/.
“This shit’s… not /fucken/ helping,” Dabi snarls, surprising Aizawa. He slides his fingers out with a low growl and whine from Dabi. The Omega’s eyes widen before a hard glare spreads over his face, obviously embarrassed by the instinctive sounds he can’t control.
“It won’t help,” Aizawa says, voice hoarse from disuse. From suppressing the growling, eager Alpha in his head.

“The fuck you touchin’ me for then,” Dabi mutters, legs shuddering and splaying out onto the sheets.
Aizawa carefully tugs a tangle of blankets away from the angry graft-line on his thigh.

“You need a knot for relief from your heat & you’re too tight to take one yet.” Dabi stares at the ceiling, pink fluid welling round the staples in his face from how hard he clenches his jaw.
When he finally talks, that familiar, feral grin’s plastered back on his face.

“Oh, so you’re bein’ /sweet/ on me, aren’t you? Think I’m gonna /beg/ for a Hero’s knot?”
Aizawa both recoils and hungers at the idea. Luckily, his carefully blank face saves him from revealing that horrific, embarrassing revelation.
“I’m not going to be fucking you, if that’s what you’re asking.” He lifts the heat aid, noting the way Dabi’s scarred mouth twitches, a hard swallow bobbing the dark, cracked grafts over his throat. “This is standard-“
“Fucking a villain ain’t /standard/ shit, Eraser. Don’t fucking lie to my face. They called you in to fuck me up.” Dabi’s voice rings with fury, and more than a hint of fear.
Dabi was bold & near careless when he was free & could fight and burn his enemies, or the traitors he’d once called friends, to death. But being nullified and held captive in possibly the most vulnerable moment of his life has clearly shaken his worldview to the core,
sent livid cracks through the beliefs and confidence he held in himself before someone dragged him back to hard, painful reality.

Aizawa knows the Commission, the doctors, Tartarus itself, are probably hoping he’ll be silent & ignore Dabi’s inevitable demands for transparency.
His attitude toward outright lies has shifted in the last few years. The idea that you’d be protecting someone /more/ by keeping them blind and ignorant, instead of giving them the choice to fight or retreat from what /you/ decided they needed protecting from…
He’s not so deep in the mire that he can’t recognize some of the flaws in heroism.

“Yes, they asked me to come here.”

He’s probably going to get a reprimand, some angry suits scolding him for ‘revealing information’ to a captive villain.

Fuck it.
Dabi’s still a human. He deserves to know at least why Aizawa’s here, even if he doesn’t get the choice to send him away.

Shit’s still shit, even if he and the rest of the Hero world pretends it isn’t.
~TBC, QRT to comment (please don't break the thread)~

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“Your heat can’t be suppressed with your infection and grafts in their current state, and the stress of working /yourself/ through a cycle might do further damage.”

It feels glaringly wrong to speak about Dabi’s in clinical terms /to/ him,
but maintaining some amount of professionalism is all he can do in this fucked up situation.

Dabi stares at the bandages on his arms for a few moments, scent twisting through anger, disgust, arousal and back in a dizzying circuit.
It makes Aizawa nauseous until he falls back into a regimented breathing pattern to avoid letting himself slip into the hormone haze alongside his ‘patient’.

He’s already disgusted at being half-hard over this, he doesn’t need to make it fucking worse by /rutting/ in here.
Dabi finally seems to come to a conclusion about his feelings while Aizawa does his best to conceal his moral and mental breakdown.

That familiar, unhinged smirk stretches his face, eyes blood-shot, pupils wide with barely-concealed panic.
It’s disturbing instead of alarming, and Aizawa shamefully clings onto that discomfort, willing the sick arousal away as Dabi starts talking.

“As if the Commission would give up the chance to put an Omega and a villain in their ‘place’.
I know for a goddamn fact this isn’t some ‘medical exemption’ make-a-fucken-wish /program/, Eraserhead.” He curls upright a little, a vertebrae or joint giving out a gunshot /crack/ as he moves. “Bad enough it’s you /fucking/ me, pretending you’re doing me some almighty favour.”
Aizawa activates his quirk again as a bright wave of heat sears over the patchwork skin, just in time to cut the flames off. Dabi’s undeterred, small, pheromone-driven fangs bared at him.
“I’ll burn myself alive before I let those fucks /examine/ me/ once they think you’ve got me /tame/ enough,” Dabi spits.

Aizawa doesn’t begrudge him the desire for vengeance, especially considering he’s almost certain that’s what the Commission is hoping for.
They haven’t made it public Dabi's in captivity, or that Aizawa’s been called in to ‘assist’.

Dabi’s an ‘undesirable’ pest to most of the good, law-abiding society who just want that easy, every-day peace.
Who would really do more than make a few performative phone calls about a handful of Omegas slipping through the cracks, especially if they ‘deserved’ it for choosing the wrong side?
Dabi curls onto one side, hands pressing into the bed as if to sit up. Blood oozes over the backs of his hands through the layers of gauze as he puts pressure on them.

“//Stay//,” Aizawa growls, before Dabi can split any of his grafts or get violent.
Dabi collapses like a cut sail, blue eyes narrow and gleaming in his furious, bone-thin face. “You want me to lay here and /let it happen/, huh?”

“No,” Aizawa snarls, pointing at the slow ooze of infection from Dabi’s wrist.
“/This/ is the shit I don’t want to happen. Scream or swear if you want. I’m just here to make sure you don’t lose your skin from this heat.”

Dabi laughs, fingers twitching under the restraint of the Command.
“My ‘skin’… ha. Doesn’t matter, Eraser. I’m dead anyway. What’s a second death in another hospital bed?”

Aizawa pauses at the barely hidden misery in his voice. Dabi’s always been impenetrable - half-lucid and out of his mind at times, but never /defeated/.
It’s not a good feeling. And he’s not sure he understands what Dabi means by ‘second’ death or other hospital beds, but he has an inkling it’s more to do with the person before ‘Dabi’ than the one currently in front of him.
He has no common ground with Dabi, save for wading through red tape & acting on his own, mostly as it suits him. Aizawa with a distinctly lower number of mass casualties, but still.

He can’t offer comfort or companionship, & he’s damn certain that’s not what Dabi wants from him.
There’s nothing /to/ do, except keep a steady hand between his legs and work him through this experience with as little trauma as possible.

“I can talk you through what I’m doing to help you, or I can Command you to stay still. Which do you prefer.”
Dabi stares at him, face twitching. The staples in his cheek twist with the unreadable curl of his half-burnt mouth. He’s resolutely silent, turning his face back toward the wall.
Aizawa exhales slowly, blinking when Dabi takes closes his eyes, grimacing at whatever sensation he’s dealing with. The scent in the room is already thick with pheromones, rising back around them with the untreated recirculation Tartarus has put into effect.
It’s a cruel thing to do in the hopes of keeping Dabi more submissive, saturate and overstimulate him with his own pheromones when even a normal heat room would have the air neutralized before being pumped back in.
It’s not going to do much for the heat, but it might help with overstimulation to have a different scent made more prominent in his ‘nest’.

Aizawa grabs his jacket from the side of the tray table and puts it on the bed beside Dabi against the wall,
a little ways from his infection-flushed skin. Dabi’s head jerks as the scent hits him, a grumble rising before the Omega goes silent once again.

Aizawa can hear him breathing, a little faster and deeper than before, still in that ragged, awful rasp.
Dabi’s legs twitch, shivering and falling apart again. It’s another wave coming on.

Dabi’s still sprawled out and turned half away from him, legs stretched out on the bed. Aizawa sits on the edge of the mattress and shifts closer,
lifting one of Dabi’s legs so it’s draped over his knees, the other curved out toward the wall. Dabi doesn’t react, though the pale parts of his face have gone a deeper pink.

Aizawa probably shouldn’t get this close, where Dabi could grapple him with his legs,
but his neck is going to spasm and give out if he spends more time leaning over to make sure he’s touching Dabi properly and not affecting any of his wounds.

Dabi takes his fingers in easily, the muscles in his legs tensing as Aizawa begins stroking his clit.
It’s swollen and wet with slick, the piercing above it twisting beneath Aizawa’s thumb with each firm press.

Aizawa stares at the lower half of his body, taut belly down to the knees pinching in around his waist. Dabi lets out a ragged, miserable sound into the wall,
gripping the sheets beside him, feet pointing and flexing as his body rolls in Aizawa’s grip.

It’s barely a minute before he stiffens and growls with a hint of /whine/ in his voice. It’s not a full on orgasm, and clearly Dabi’s frustrated about it,
if the way he flinches away from fingers inside him are any indication.

“You need a knot,” Aizawa explains, watching Dabi’s face twist and snarl noiselessly.

“Fuck you,” Dabi slurs, barely any heat to the words.
He’s already twitching and smelling stronger again. If Dabi keeps tensing and bucking like this, he’s going to tear a graft.

It’s not a suggestion anymore, Aizawa really is going to have to put this heat aid in whether Dabi wants it or not.
The toy rolls into his spare hand and Aizawa pulls his fingers free to give himself room to work. Dabi’s head whips around to stare at him as the toy rubs between his legs.
Aizawa strokes the length of the heat aid through Dabi’s slit to coat it in slick, fumbling the lube into his free hand to slick that, too.

With all the fluid, Dabi’s groin is a soaked mess and Aizawa has to adjust the toy in both hands to get a good grip on the base.
He doesn’t want to push it in too fast, but he also doesn’t want to lose his grip on it and make Dabi jerk around and hurt himself with any uncomfortable angles or pinched skin.

Dabi’s shivering when the toy finally presses in between his lower lips.
Aizawa spreads him open to nudge the head into place, pausing momentarily at the difference between Dabi’s skin and the dark silicone in his hand.

He feels sick when he realizes why the med team probably chose this black toy instead of a lighter, pink-toned aid.
Aizawa restrains the growl that tightens his throat, a little taken aback at how angry he feels about that.

Did they expect him to just do /whatever/ to Dabi while he’s in heat? Just shove a knot in him and damn how his body took or tore around it?
It’s probably not as dark as his mind twists it - probably just that they knew Dabi was already prone to bleeding with his grafts, didn’t want to cause alarm… it has to be that.
He doesn’t want to think about who else they might have used toys like this on. Who else might’ve been in his position, “treating” an Omega in custody.

/Didn’t put it past the Heroes/, Dabi said.

Aizawa’s no longer sure he can put it past them, either.
Dabi makes a quiet noise, clearly instinctual if the way his scent sours is any indication. His Omega wants to be knotted, wants the feeling of being tied to satisfy the boiling-over, long suppressed heat.
Aizawa’s here to satisfy and keep him alive. So… he /has/ to do this. It’s the only way to help Dabi get better.

It’s what he’ll tell himself when he’s left here - whenever Dabi’s heat ends.
When he can go home to his apartment and deal with the arousal flooding his veins at the sight of this slender, ragged person opening up, rolling his hips up for the toy in Aizawa's hands.
“Breathe out,” Aizawa instructs, vaguely surprised when Dabi obeys with a long rasp. He guides the toy inside with a little extra pressure, gritting his teeth at the hint of alarm in Dabi’s scent.

He really, truly is a virgin.
There’s no real pain scent, or at least, no increase from the pain scent that’s been filling the room this whole time, so at least Aizawa hasn’t hurt Dabi like /that/.
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