(WARNING!!!: Sexual content ahead)
The sterile, judgmental air of the Pro Hero meeting clung to me like a shroud. Every condescending glance, every dismissive wave of the hand, chipped away at the last vestiges of my idealism. My proposal for proactive, community-based volunteer programs had been shot down, deemed "ineffective" and "a waste of resources." The irony was suffocating. They valued brute force over genuine help, maintaining the status quo while the cracks in society widened.
I stumbled out of the building, the city lights blurring through my tear-filled eyes. I found myself in a grimy alley, the stench of garbage a fitting perfume for my despair. I sank to the ground, my wings drooping around me like a broken halo. I was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending, tired of being Hawks, the hero.
"Well, well, well," a voice drawled. "Look what the cat dragged in. The winged wonder, brought low."
Dabi. Just what I needed. I didn't even bother to look up. "Leave me alone, Dabi." My voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
He chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "What's the matter, hero? Lose another fight? Can't handle the heat?"
I didn't respond. I simply didn't have the energy.
Surprisingly, he didn't press. After a moment, I felt the ground shift as he lowered himself to sit beside me, a disconcerting proximity. "Alright, birdbrain. Spill it."
It took a long time, longer than I'd like to admit, but the words finally trickled out. I told him about the meeting, the frustration, the utter futility of trying to change a system so deeply entrenched in its own self-importance. I told him about the weight of expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect, to be the hero everyone expected.
Dabi listened, his usual sneer absent. When I was finished, he was silent for a long while. Then, he said, "They don't deserve you."
The unexpected sincerity caught me off guard.
"There's another way, you know," he continued, his voice low. "A way where you don't have to play their game. A way where you can actually make a difference, even if it's not the kind they approve of."
I looked at him, hope and apprehension warring within me. "What are you talking about?"
He smirked, the familiar darkness returning to his eyes. "Join the League. Embrace the chaos. We could use someone with your talents."
The thought was insane. Treasonous. Yet, a strange sense of liberation washed over me. I was tired of following the rules, tired of playing the hero.
"Okay," I said, the word barely a whisper. "Okay, I'll join you."
The League was... a learning experience. Shigaraki eyed me with suspicion, Toga with unnerving glee, and the others with a mixture of curiosity and distrust. But Dabi vouched for me, and slowly, grudgingly, they accepted me.
Shigaraki, ever the strategist, demanded to know my strengths and weaknesses. I laid them bare, the only way to earn their trust. My speed, my reconnaissance abilities, my combat skills. And then, my vulnerabilities: fire, naturally, and... my wings.
"Your wings?" Shigaraki asked, his voice laced with confusion. "What about them?"
"They're... sensitive," I mumbled, hating the blush that crept up my neck.
Toga, ever the curious one, reached out a hand towards my feathers. Before I could react, her fingers brushed against the base of my wing. A jolt of unexpected pleasure shot through me, making me gasp and moan softly.
The room went silent. All eyes were on me, wide with shock. Mortified, I bolted for my assigned room, slamming the door shut behind me.
A moment later, Dabi was there, knocking insistently. "Hawks? What the hell was that?"
I refused to open the door. "Go away, Dabi."
"No. Not until you explain what just happened." He sounded more curious than angry.
I sighed, defeated. "It's... complicated."
"Try me."
Reluctantly, I opened the door a crack. "My wings... they're erogenous. Highly sensitive. Any contact... it's... arousing. It triggers a pre-rut response."
Dabi stared at me, his expression unreadable. "A pre-rut response? What does that even mean?"
"It means," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "that touching my wings makes me feel... well, horny. And if it goes on for too long, it can trigger a full rut, even if it's not the right season."
He was quiet for a long moment, processing the information. Then, a flicker of understanding crossed his face. "So, like a pressure point?"
"Kind of, but... more intense."
He nodded slowly. "I see." Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
Months passed. I settled into my new role, a double agent of sorts, feeding information to both sides, playing a dangerous game of deception. The League, surprisingly, was... functional. Chaotic, yes, but also strangely supportive, in their own twisted way. Dabi, in particular, kept a watchful eye on me, though he never mentioned the wing incident again.
Then came the incident with the underground hero. I was out gathering intel when he ambushed me. He was strong, persistent, and disturbingly fixated on my wings. Every blow, every grapple, seemed to target them, sending jolts of unwanted pleasure through me, weakening my resolve. I managed to subdue him, but not before he'd inflicted enough stimulation to push me to the edge.
I flew back to the League's hideout, a frantic energy coursing through me. I burst into my room, slamming and locking the door. My body was on fire, my senses heightened, my mind a chaotic mess of arousal and panic. The scent of my own pheromones filled the air, a sweet, musky aroma that signaled my impending rut.
I heard pounding on the door. "Hawks? What's going on?" It was Dabi.
"Go away!" I gasped, my voice strained. "I can't... I need to be alone."
"The hell you do. Open the door, Hawks." His voice was laced with an unusual urgency.
"No! Please, just leave me alone."
I heard a muttered curse, then a crash. The door splintered, and Dabi stood in the doorway, his eyes widening as he took in the scene.
I was a mess. Sweaty, flushed, my wings twitching uncontrollably. The air around me shimmered with heat from both my quirk and my rising fever. The scent was intoxicating, even to me.
Dabi stood frozen for a moment, his gaze sweeping over my form. Then, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
"Shit, Hawks," he breathed, his voice rough. "You're a mess."
"I know," I moaned, clutching at my chest. "I can't... I can't control it."
He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yes, you can."
"No, I can't! Unless..." I trailed off, the implication hanging in the air.
Dabi's jaw tightened. "Unless what?"
I looked away, shame burning in my cheeks. "Unless someone... helps me."
He was silent for a long moment. Then, he reached out and gently touched my wing.
A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over me, so intense it almost brought me to my knees. I gasped, my body arching towards him.
"Dabi..."
He didn't say anything, but his eyes were dark with a mixture of concern and something else... something I couldn't quite decipher.
He stroked my wing again, slowly, deliberately. My breath hitched in my throat.
"Tell me what you want, Hawks," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
The words poured out of me, a desperate plea for release. I told him about the unbearable tension, the overwhelming need for touch, the desperate desire to be relieved.
He listened, his expression unwavering. When I was finished, he cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks.
"Alright, bird," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I'll help you."
And he did. He touched me, slowly, carefully, exploring every inch of my sensitive wings. He teased and tormented me, pushing me to the edge of madness, then pulling me back just before I lost control. He whispered words of encouragement, of desire, of understanding.
And when I finally climaxed, the release was earth-shattering.
Afterward, I lay exhausted, my body trembling, my wings limp and heavy. Dabi held me close, stroking my feathers, his touch surprisingly soothing.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
He didn't respond, but I felt his lips press against my forehead.
We stayed like that for a long time, lost in the afterglow of passion. And in that moment, I knew that everything had changed. I was no longer Hawks, the hero, nor was I simply a member of the League. I was something else entirely, something... more. And Dabi, the scarred villain, had become something more to me as well. Our wings were now intertwined in a dance of rebellion and desire.