Chapter Text
“Sorry kid. It’s not gonna happen.”
“ Hey, did you here? Midoriya’s quirkless!”
“Ew, that’s so gross. I don’t want to catch that!”
The boy huddled in his seat as his classmates berated him. The teacher looked on and did nothing. Even his childhood friend, the one who he thought would be by his side forever, turned into his tormentor. He would go home to stilted smiles from his mother, which waned day by day until the woman didn’t even look at him.
There were rumours in the underground of a place you could go. If you could pay the price, then you could be made better. Whatever was broken could be fixed. Whatever was wrong with you could be made right. If you were willing to submit yourself to his whims, then the boss would make you anew.
Dabi knew to take any rumours in the underground with an enormous bucket of salt. Urban legends and conspiracies spread like wildfire, everyone willing to believe that there was some magical person who could wave their wand and make your life better. Dabi scoffed when he first heard this.
It was more common among the homeless quirkless. Poor bastards. Bottom of the list for any kind of assistance, if there was ever even any offered to them in the first place. If you were quirkless and homeless, there was little chance of anything good happening. Even most homeless shelters turned them away if they knew. It was no wonder then that quirkless people were over represented in pickpockets and purse snatchers. Petty criminals just trying to get by. Where were the heroes to save them? Nowhere to be seen. If they’d rather believe in a fairytale to get by, then Dabi could hardly blame them.
Dabi didn’t put much stock in rumours, but then he heard whispers. Quirkless kids suddenly being taken into foster homes. Quirkless teens getting places in halfway houses. Quirkless adults getting jobs. The common denominator in all of it? Somehow they all managed to no longer pass as quirkless.
It wasn’t just quirkless people either. The man who’d lost his carpentry job after losing his hands in a terrible accident? Suddenly his hands had grown back. The squatter unable to afford his medication? Cured of his illness.
It was weird miracles like that, seemingly unconnected stories which became connected by the fairy tales of the underground. Dabi was suspicious of the stories, even as he kept his ears open for them. There was no way something like that could be true.
Then one of the more well known homeless men raved about how he’d been given a miracle cure. The man’s quirk made him constantly in pain, so much so he’d self medicated on progressively harder and harder drugs for years. He disappeared for a while before turning up, freshly washed and shaven and no longer in pain. That sparked Dabi’s interest, and the interests of quite a few others as well.
Dabi resisted the temptation to itch at his scars. He’d recently replaced the staples holding his burned skin together with his healthy skin. The seams always hurt, but the way the scarred flesh rubbed whenever he changed the staples always made him itch. It was an awful feeling, one he had to resist every time. He would do a lot more damage if he scratched at it. He’d learned that lesson the hard way years ago. It was that feeling, coupled with the delusion that he might one day want to make an honest living, that had Dabi searching for this urban legend.
It took him quite a while. The man couldn’t say much about the location, too hopped up on drugs when he’d arrived and then dumped somewhere when he’d been cured. Luckily, Dabi had a sharp enough mind. He picked up the subtle clues and hints in all the stories he’d heard. It took a few weeks of searching, but now he was stood outside of a decent enough looking bar. It was located in the grey area, sitting comfortably between the nice and rough parts of Musutafu. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but Dabi wasn’t one to judge. His current flat was one room and a communal bathroom. The lack of privacy in the showers meant quite a few perves had been singed when they got handsy.
Dabi entered the bar and was surprised to find it had a fairly nice atmosphere. There weren’t too many people, since it was early in the evening. A couple of older people were chatting at the bar while others were dotted around at the tables and in the booths. The chatter was the perfect background noise, covering up whatever sport was playing on the TV. It was the stereotypical bar experience.
Dabi knew what to look for though. The people around him all held themselves in ways he’d seen on the streets. He wouldn’t be surprised if most of them were either villains or were on their way to being one. Judging by how relaxed they seemed, whoever they were didn’t matter inside these walls. Hell, Dabi wouldn’t be surprised if there were a couple of heroes here as well, spending their down time among the miserable common folk.
Nobody looked at him beyond a few cursory glances as he sat down at a stool at the bar. The bartender was busy with someone else but Dabi didn’t mind waiting. It gave him a chance to look around the place. Honestly, he could see himself coming back here. It wasn’t often he got a moments peace.
The bartender finished up and approached him. He looked to be in his early twenties, maybe a couple of years younger than Dabi. His shirt with the name of the bar showed his muscular build. His hair was short and slightly messy. Quite frankly, the man was attractive.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“Whiskey, don’t care what kind,” Dabi said, throwing a few bills on the bar.
The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on the his rudeness. He took the bills and returned a moment later with a glass of amber liquid. Dabi took a sip. It actually tasted nice, unlike the usual cheap piss other seedier bars stocked. He’d definitely be coming back here, assuming he could get more money.
Not much happened while he was there. Dabi looked around from his perch at the bar but found nothing amiss. If this really was the place where the rumour was supposed to happen, then it must be hidden quite well. Unless the bar was just a front, Dabi thought.
The bar got busier as the night dragged on. A woman was sat next to him when something interesting finally happened. Unfortunate, but interesting. The woman was minding her own business when a man appeared behind her. Dabi got one whiff of him and knew he was drunk. Dabi sneered, assuming the man was going to get yet another drink, when he caught him leaning way too far into the woman’s space.
“You smell real nice,” he slurred.
The woman told him to back off but the man leaned in closer.
“I’m sure I could show you a good time.”
Dabi saw one hand lifting up to wrap the woman in a definitely unwanted hug. Usually he’d leave things like this to staff but the bartender was busy at the other end of the bar. He remembered the feeling of hands, hands touching, hands where they shouldn’t be, and he reacted. Before the man could touch her, Dabi grabbed his wrist.
“Hey back off. I was here first!” the man whined.
“Take a hike,” Dabi said.
“What’re you gonna do? Make me?”
Dabi smirked. His hand got hotter and hotter, not producing flames but getting close to a burning temperature. The man definitely felt it. Suddenly, Dabi’s wrist was grabbed. The bartender was there. He had Dabi’s wrist and the man’s arm in an almost unnaturally strong grip.
“Let go,” he said.
Dabi did so. The bartender didn’t release either of them.
“Hey man, this psycho attacked me,” he slurred.
“You’re done here,” was all the bartender said.
A man in the same work uniform came up behind the drunkard. Dabi recognised him from where he’d been stood by the door. A bouncer? Holding the man’s upper arms tightly, the bouncer frogmarched him out of the building, the man’s wriggling barely affecting him at all. The bartender reassured the woman and let go of Dabi.
The grip had been very strong. He’d already not been feeling great, but now he felt where the man had held onto burn and itch and he desperately wanted to scratch at it. He settled for downing the rest of his drink. The alcohol seeped into the seam in his skin and Dabi grimaced from the burn.
“Apologies if I hurt you,” the bartender said, “I needed to make sure you didn’t escalate things further.”
Dabi waved him off.
“Just old wounds.”
The bartender checked his phone briefly.
“Is there no way to get them treated?” he asked, “it looks like it hurts.”
Dabi laughed cruelly.
“You have no idea pretty boy. Can’t exactly go to a hospital anyway.”
“No money?”
“Among other things.”
The bartender was quiet for a moment.
“If you could get them healed, what would you do?”
“It’s never gonna happen so I haven’t really thought about it. I guess it would make it easier if I ever decided to get a decent, law abiding job.”
Why was this starting to sound like an audition?”
“Would you get them healed if you could?”
This was definitely some kind of test. Looks like there was at least some truth to the rumours. Dabi didn’t let it show though as he thought about the question. The simple answer was yes, yes he would have his burns healed if he could. They were a pain to constantly deal with and he was being honest when he said it’d make it easier to find a job. Any goals he might have for the future were too much of a pipe dream, and he might not even live that long if he ends up getting an infection and dying. He was quite surprised it hadn’t already happened.
“Probably. Not being constantly in pain would be nice,” he said, maintaining an air of aloofness.
The bartender seemed to accept that and went back to serving customers. After a little while, just as Dabi was considering either buying another drink or leaving, the bartender appeared back in front of him.
“Could you come with me please? There’s someone who’d like to meet you,” he said.
It got worse as the boy got older and there was nothing he could do about it. The kids got crueller and somehow more creative in their insults, though they always went back to the classic.
“Deku!”
The boy did his best to ignore the taunts, and mostly managed to avoid the fists. He tried to stay outside as much as he could. Both to avoid his mother and to be in public areas. The bullies were less likely to do anything with witnesses. Though there was one that he couldn’t avoid, because this one knew where he lived.
“Come on Deku, I need the practise.”
The boy could barely resist as lips smashed against his, nor could he stop the tongue from invading his mouth.
Why was this his life over something as simple as not being special like everyone else?
If this went south, he’d just burn the place to the ground. The bartender led him around the bar to a door. Someone else came out to replace him at the bar. Behind the door was a storeroom. Dabi was led through the room and then up a set of stairs. They reached a corridor with what looked like an apartment on each side. The bartender led him to the left hand one.
There was a small hallway with a genkan. Dabi shrugged and slipped off his shoes. He was led down the hallway and into a large open room. If this was an apartment, then he guessed this should be the lounge. It was mostly empty, with two large sofas being the only furniture. One was directly in front of him while the other was opposite, near the curtained windows. The room was softly lit as though this was a cosy evening.
Dabi was directed to sit on the closest sofa, with the bartender standing vigil at one end. Across from him on the other sofa was as surprise. Dabi expected a grizzled old crone or a muscle bound mobster. What he did not expect to see was a kid. He was wearing a mask so there was no way to know for sure, but Dabi could tell he was young. Maybe no older than him, Dabi thought before brushing that aside. The kid was watching him. The mask covered his entire face except for the eyes, which were a vivid green colour. His hair was messy, going from black at the roots to a dark green at the tips. His gaze was calculating and didn’t leave Dabi for an instant. Despite how young he probably was, Dabi couldn’t help but feel cautious. Was this kid the one behind the legend?
“So what am I supposed to call you?” Dabi asked.
“Boss,” the kid said.
Dabi snorted.
“Yeah, I’m not calling a little pipsqueak that.”
“You were the one who was looking for me.”
“I was looking for a decent drink. If I happened to follow the breadcrumbs of a little underground fairy tale, then that’s just a bonus,” Dabi said.
He knew he was being purposely rude, but Dabi had found in the past that people hide their true persona behind niceties and politeness. He’d rather cut that crap out and get straight to the point.
“You have more reason than most to want it to be true,” the kid said.
“That you can somehow miraculously cure people of their injuries, and even make them no longer quirkless? Like hell I’d believe that’s true. Stories get exaggerated all the time. Why should I believe something like that?”
“Yet you still came searching for it,” the kid pointed out.
“Can’t a man dream once in a while?” Dabi said.
There was a beat of silence.
“Not all of us are allowed to,” the kid said quietly.
Dabi studied the kid for a moment. Despite Dabi’s rudeness, he seemed completely relaxed. Granted he didn’t know that Dabi could incinerate him in an instant, but he still expected there to be some kind of anxiety or nerves. Yet there was nothing. Maybe that was what the mask was for.
“So tell me kid, can you do what they say you can?” Dabi asked, “all the healing and giving people quirks?”
“The quirks bit, no. Everything else, yes, which means that I can heal you as well.”
“I find that very difficult to believe. How else were a bunch of quirkless people suddenly able to pass off having a quirk?”
“I removed the physical tells of quirklessness, and made it look like they had some kind of quirk. People are too ready to believe something is a quirk, even when it’s not.”
Dabi couldn’t help his frown. Remove the tells of quirklessness? Dabi wasn’t an expert, but he knew that one of the common ways to tell if some is quirkless is if they have a second toe joint. Did this kid cut off people’s toes? No, that can’t be right. None of the stories said anything about that, and there were other things which indicated the lack of a quirk. Any one of them would be obvious if it had been removed surgically, so how had he done it?
“What’s your quirk?” Dabi asked.
“My quirk allows me to alter a human body. Healing, changing appearance, anything physical in the body I can control,” the kid said.
Dabi was getting suspicious. Firstly, a quirk that powerful would be on the radar of everyone, hero and villain alike. Secondly, the kid was being way too cavalier with that information.
“Surprised the heroes haven’t snatched you up yet. That sounds ‘perfect’ for heroics,” Dabi drawled.
The kid grimaced.
“Not likely. They’d be too put off with the requirements for it to work.”
“Still, not sure why you’re just telling me. What’s to stop me from selling to a villain?”
“Are you going to?”
“My question first!”
The kid rolled his eyes.
“I’m telling you this because it makes no difference what you know. Even if you know the requirements, the only one who can control what my quirk does is me. Sell me out, kidnap me yourself, it doesn’t matter. The only one with any power over what I do is me.”
Dabi was impressed. As he spoke, he could feel the intimidating aura the kid gave off. It was almost enough to have him cowering and begging for forgiveness. It was at times like these, and only times like these, that Dabi was glad for the past he had.
“You said you’d want your burns healed because of the pain, and that you’d get an honest job if they were gone. Did you mean that?” the kid asked.
Dabi shrugged.
“About the pain, absolutely. I can’t say about the other thing. I have things I want to do, not all of them are pleasant or on the right side of the law. It would be nice to be able to make money without having to steal it, but that’s about all I can say.”
The kid watched him. Dabi felt his gaze picking apart every single detail he could see.
“I heard that what you do comes with a price. I’m guessing that’s the requirements you mentioned,” Dabi said.
“It’s more about what you’d be willing to do.”
“Is it expensive?”
“That depends on the person,” the kid said, “what would you be willing do to be healed?”
“Is this where I tell you something and you twist that into some perverted hoop I need to jump through?”
“No, what you’d need to do will always be the same. Would you be willing to do it is the question?”
“Quit with the word games. Just tell me what I’d need to do or I’ll burn your whole set up to the ground,” Dabi said, getting annoyed.
The little shit didn’t even flinch at his threat. He couldn’t tell through the mask, but he was sure the kid just smirked at him.
“Very well. My quirk allows me to physically alter a body, but only through the transfer of bodily fluids.”
“So what? We’re supposed to swap spit or something?”
“If you want to be doing it all day, every day, for months and still not get anywhere, then sure.”
“I told you to quit the games,” Dabi growled.
“Fine. For my quirk to work, I’d need to cum inside you. Mouth would probably work but in the ass works best,” Boss said without hesitation.
Dabi was too stunned to speak. Boss leaned forward slightly.
“So? Would you be willing to do that if it meant being healed?”
This kid would need to fuck him in the ass to heal him. It wouldn’t be Dabi’s first time. Those first few weeks on the streets when he wasn’t screaming in pain, he’d needed some way of making money. Apparently even with the scars he was considered attractive. He could already feel the phantom sensation of hands on him. It’s why whenever he’d had sex since leaving that behind, he was always the one in control. He was always the one giving. Part of him wanted to pounce on the kid, take what he wanted now that he knew how it worked, but he didn’t. The small part of him that remembered his siblings held him back.
Then he realised exactly what the kid meant. Even if somebody tried to force him, the only way for the quirk to work was if it was Boss who was doing the fucking. Once he’d came inside the other person, he could do whatever he wanted. He could seriously mess with somebody’s entire body, meaning what he said was true. When it came to this, the only person with any control was Boss.
“I’m not saying I will, but what would I need to do?” Dabi asked.
“Given how extensive the burns appear to be, I probably won’t be able to do it in one go without prior information. The first time would be exploratory, to see what needs doing. For that, all you’d need to do is give me a blow job. After that, I’d fuck you in the ass and heal what needs healing.”
Dabi had to admire the kids detached, almost clinical tone when discussing something which shouldn’t be coming out of someone his age.
“So then Dabi, would you be willing do that? Would a delinquent like you submit yourself to someone like me?”
“If it means this delinquent isn’t in pain any more, then sure why not,” Dabi said, “you’d better be a good fuck kid.”
He wasn’t even going to question how the kid knew his name. At this point he didn’t really care. He was just diving off the deep end, doing something that was crazy even for him. Boss gestured and the other man in the room left, going back out the way they came in, probably back to tend to the bar.
Boss reached up and took off the mask, setting it to one side and giving Dabi his first look at the kids face. It was round and definitely looked young. His freckled cheeks complimented the green of his eyes. Boss eyed Dabi once more, almost daring him to comment but he kept his mouth shut.
“Stand in the middle and take off your clothes,” Boss said.
“Seriously?” Dabi said, not moving an inch, “I know how blow jobs work and I don’t need to take my clothes off to give you one.”
Boss’s gaze turned steely and Dabi fought the urge to cower.
“You’re in my world now Dabi. With my quirk, what I say goes. So if I say you need to be naked so I can see the extent of your injuries then you will be naked. Now stand in the middle and strip!”
He didn’t raise his voice but the authority it carried was absolute. Dabi resisted for all of five seconds before he rose from the sofa and stood in the centre of the room. He slipped off his jacket, dropping it next to him in a pile. His t-shirt came off slower, but it ultimately joined the jacket, exposing his chest to the kid. He pulled off his jeans and socks, and wondered whether he could leave his underwear on. One look from Boss gave him his answer.
He was now completely naked in front of Boss in the middle of the room, who hadn’t moved an inch. Sheer stubbornness was all that kept Dabi from trying to cover himself up. Boss stood after a moment and began circling around Dabi. It had taken many years of humiliation and spite for Dabi to accept his scars. Extensive scarring covered his arms from his hands to his elbows, as well as a lot of his upper chest, up his neck to his lower jaw and under his eyes. It was so bad he needed to staple the dead skin to the living skin. More scars from other injuries dotted around the remaining flesh, and Boss was taking it all in.
Occasionally Dabi would feel Boss’s cool fingers touch one of them gently for a second before pulling them away. Boss finished his examination, ending a few feet in front of Dabi.
“I’m sorry you had to suffer like this,” he said.
“I’m not here for your pity,” Dabi spat back at him.
Boss raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a very unimpressed look.
“That wasn’t pity, that was acknowledgement of a shitty situation.”
How on Earth did the kid sound so done with everything, despite what they were going to do? Dabi had a sudden moment of clarity. This was basically a child at the centre of underground gossip and legend. This was a child, who couldn’t be that much older than Dabi’s youngest brother, and Dabi was about to suck his dick. Feelings of wrong, wrong, wrong, washed over him, and it was a struggle to squash them down. Even Dabi had standards.
“From your previous comments, you know how blow jobs work,” Boss said.
Dabi nodded.
“Then you can be an active part or not, that’s up to you. Now get on your knees,” he said.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable sitting down?” Dabi asked, hoping for a casual tone.
Boss fixed him with a look which had Dabi again struggling not to cower under.
“On. Your. Knees.”
Dabi swallowed his pride and knelt down. Only when he was on his knees in front of him did Boss’s hands move to the waistband of his sweatpants. He took out his dick and gave it a few lazy strokes, enough to bring around the start of an erection. He stepped forward and Dabi tried not to flinch away when a hand guided his head closer. Dabi opened his mouth without prompting and slowly began taking Boss’s dick. His hands rose almost on muscle memory, one settling on Boss’s thigh, the other on his hip. Boss pushed in until Dabi’s face was pressed into his crotch.
Though Dabi was holding onto him, he didn’t try and change the pace. From how the kid had acted, Boss seemed to have a very big thing about control and he’d already pushed him a fair bit. Dabi’s delinquent heart couldn’t help but wonder what could have made him like this.
A moment later, Boss began moving, slowly thrusting his dick in and out. Dabi may not particularly like the situation he was in, but if he was going to hell anyway, he might as well make this enjoyable for the one who’ll take his mortal pain away. Dabi twisted and curled his tongue around the shaft, lubing it up with his spit. He began bobbing his head in time with Boss’s thrusts. Part of him worried that Boss wouldn’t like that he’d taken some of the control of the pace away from him, but the fingers gently stroking through his hair didn’t tighten.
Dabi looked up. From a distance, it would be difficult to tell if Boss was enjoying. Up close though, Dabi could see the slight haze in his eyes, could feel the small tremors beneath his hands. The kid didn’t make much noise besides heavier than normal breathing.
Dabi pushed his face into Boss’s crotch, holding himself there as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked. This got a reaction out of Boss. His other hand jumped to Dabi’s head but he didn’t pull away. Dabi continued before Boss’s grip tightened. Dabi stopped what he was doing, giving control back to Boss.
He could tell Boss was getting close. They moved in tandem as Boss bent over, shoving his dick in as far as it would go with a quiet gasp. Dabi felt the spasms as hot, salty liquid erupted into his mouth and hit the back of his throat. Almost reflexively, Dabi swallowed all of it.
A strange sensation washed over him as Boss pulled out. Dabi took a moment to catch his breath as a warmth spread throughout his entire body. It bounced around inside him. Wherever it passed over, that area almost seemed lighter than it had before. Dabi felt the small aches and pains in his body, the ones unrelated to his scars, melt away.”
“I’m assuming you want to keep the black hair.”
Dabi looked up once more. Boss also looked to be calming himself down. He was massaging the centre of his forehead lightly, eyes closed.
“How’d you know it’s dyed?” Dabi asked.
Boss opened his eyes, looking unimpressed again.
“I just got a snapshot of your entire body, every inch of it, including your hair which is most definitely not black,” he said, “also your pubic hair is red.”
Dabi’s hands shot up to cover his crotch, which was pointles because Boss had already seen it. Boss rolled his eyes and turned away, but Dabi caught the little ghost of a smile on his face. A pale grey robe was thrown at him. Dabi put it on while Boss tucked himself back into his pants.
“Not much point in you putting your clothes back on,” Boss said, “that is, unless you’ve changed your mind.”
Dabi considered for a moment, but only for a moment. At some point during that blowjob, he’d come to the conclusion that he was in this till the end. Even if it went against whatever skewed sense of morality he still held onto, this annoying dictator of a kid could potentially change his life for the better. It was messed up, it was cruel, but so was everything in life. There was only one answer.
“Let’s do it.”
“Let’s do it.”
“Please, no.”
The boys whimpers fell on deaf ears.
Just like they always did.