Chapter Text
Coming home to a box addressed simply To: Shouto in surprisingly elaborate calligraphy is a surprise. It’s not too concerning though; there aren’t that many people who could have left it, and something about the blue ribbon makes Shouto think about Dabi’s fire, so he brings it in without too much concern.
His instincts prove correct when he opens the box and finds a card resting on top of whatever’s hidden beneath the tissue paper—bright blue and white, evoking Dabi’s fire even more strongly—and reads it.
Wear this tonight.
When he flips the card over, there’s a stretch of street listed and a time. It’s not near their usual haunts, but Shouto knows it’s a place known for sex workers. He’s going to be… very visible there.
Just thinking about it makes his cock harden. He sets the card aside and opens up the tissue, revealing a top that looks more like a piece of jewelry. The bust is shaped like a butterfly in metallic tans and grays, and gold chains—decorated with more small golden butterflies—attach to a collar-like halter and drape around the waist. It’s a good thing that Shouto doesn’t actually have a bust, because it would not take much for the relatively small butterfly to flash a gratuitous amount of breast.
Lifting it out, Shouto finds a very short black skirt beneath. Very short with a very high slit. He’s going to have to tuck very well tonight if he doesn’t want to flash balls and dick.
Considering where he’s going tonight, he’s going to have to rely on the fact that people will assume he’s an impersonator. If he wants to lean into that, he should do something elaborate with his hair—something with braids and curls? But something that won’t block the front of the top, so pulled back. A couple quick searches on his phone finds a good example.
Checking the time, Shouto should be able to do everything he wants if he hurries.
Walking down this stretch is a rush. Shouto’s cock strains against his tuck and his heart pounds as eyes follow the sway of his hips.
Fuck, he should have thought about doing this before hooking up with Dabi. He certainly had never been picky about who bent him over at the club. How much of a rush would it have been to hop into a stranger’s car and fuck them?
Dabi had taunted him a few weeks ago, saying Shouto would fuck anyone Dabi gave him to, and suddenly the idea has appeal, if only because imagining Dabi watching him be fucked is making him even more uncomfortable.
A dark sedan pulls up, and the window rolls down. Shouto has a heartbeat of wondering what he’ll do if it isn’t Dabi as he approaches, leaning into the open window. He’s not sure if he’s pleased or relieved that it is, however.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Dabi says. “What’s your rate?”
Numbers fly out of Shouto’s head. He’s so fucking turned on, he’s having to squeeze his thighs together to keep his tuck in place. “Depends on what you want,” Shouto manages to say.
“I think I want to fuck your pretty little cunt full of my come and put a baby inside of you. How much do you charge to be bred?”
Shouto whines—even though he tries not to—and Dabi chuckles. It’s enough to make Shouto regain his thoughts. “For you?” He tosses out an amount that’s probably laughably low for a man who wants to bareback, but Shouto is practically vibrating with the need to climb into the car and put Dabi’s cock in his ass.
Grinning wide enough it probably makes his staples hurt, Dabi says, “Come on in, beautiful.” Shouto almost trips in his rush to do so, but he manages to get into the car. Sitting, the skirt only barely covers his crotch.
“Let’s start easy,” Dabi says. “Spread your legs and show me your pretty underwear.”