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You didn’t remember how it started, nor did you care about it anyway. You just went with the flow and took everything life threw at you. Not because you were indifferent - though it was a part - but because you were just…tired. Disappointed. Weak at times.
You were exhausted. Heroes, those hypocrites, never cared. Not when those who you once loved were now buried six feet under just because "the heroes" were busy praising themselves at some shitty party. Not when you lost everything just because some bastard decided he was in charge of your wallet. Not when you gave up believing.
Maybe that’s why for months you found yourself in some hotel room in some shithole on the outskirts, 'cause it was where he liked it. Unnoticed, uncaught, almost invisible to others. You didn’t mind. Got used to being just a shadow. No one gave two fucks about the two of you.
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“Come on, princess, lemme see ya. Let the others hear how good I make you feel.”
His turquoise eyes boring into you like a hawk looking at his prey. The faint smell of cheap whiskey and old wood clinging to your skin seeping into your clothes — as if the room itself was trying to claim you, too.
You didn’t know why it was you. Why he chose you. Not that you really wanted to know, but this thought was on your mind every time you saw his eyes in the darkness after your shift.
Your skirt fell to the floor with a teasingly slow slip, baring your legs. The blouse followed suit, sliding down your shoulders. It was a sight for Dabi. Pure delight.
Seeing you like this, all flustered, wearing this damn lacy underwear. He was gone the moment you caught his eye. Like a perfect victim for him. A perfect porcelain doll.
“Spin around. Give your master a nice view.”
You did. Of course, you obeyed, spinning around like a ballerina in a music box. You could see it in his eyes. The hunger, the want, the desire. Even in the dim light of the room his eyes were glowing.
He crooked his finger and you stepped closer. It was a sight to look down at him. But you knew it wouldn’t last long, especially when you felt his slender fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling you down to your knees.
It was inevitable. The moment your knees hit the dusty carpet, its old, dusty smell filling your nose, he was already unbuckling his belt. You still didn’t get used to his size. To the Jacob’s ladder. He filled your small mouth and yet he didn’t bottom out. But your throat convulsed around his tip, making you gag.
“That’s it, fuck…babygirl…”
His breathless whispers always turned you on, especially when he sounded so pleased, like he wasn't one of the scariest villains, like he wasn't a psychopath at all.
He didn’t look villainous like that. His eyes no longer looked at you like you were prey. No, he was looking at you like you were a goddess.
He didn’t let you take control though. Never. His fingers fisted in your hair, not painfully, but holding tight, letting himself set the pace. Your head bobbed, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you choke, and God, he loved it.
He loved the way your nails dug in his thighs, the way your makeup smeared over your face from tears, the way your chin pressed against his balls when you took him all the way in.
He loved the sounds you made, the way you felt, the sight of you beneath him.
He came just when you swallowed, spilling inside your mouth and down your throat. Hot, bitter and salty, just like your life.
“God, your mouth is divine, princess.”
A chuckle, breathless and hoarse, made you shiver. Made your lower belly twist in anticipation.
You didn’t say a word, didn’t need to, didn’t want to. The moment your back hit the sheets, stained with God knows what from God knows how many people, his hands were already dragging your panties down, letting them hang around your ankle.
“You’re such a sight. Help me, would’ya?”
Your bra slid down your shoulders as you unclasped it, and his hands were on you in an instant, drawing gasps out of your mouth. Some little sounds were enough to make his spent cock hard again.
His hands were rough and scarred, gripping you hard and making you arch toward his touch.
You felt needed. You felt wanted. Maybe that’s why you never said no to him. Cause he needed you. Even if it was just for hotel sex.
“Don’t be quiet. Let’s make the other rooms jealous.”
The whisper was hot against your ear before he bit it. The marks he gave you almost never faded. Dark purple, red, bruised — his marks. His claim.
His fingers brushed over your already wet cunt, making him smirk.
“Someone’s eager.”
His lips were rough, staples digging into your skin as he kissed you, scratching. His teeth bit your lower lip, making you squeak sweetly. His fingers made their way inside you, and the soft moan escaped your lips. He swallowed it though.
Although he looked like a villain, acted like a villain, with you he wasn’t one. Almost. He could be rough, pounding into you mercilessly, but he knew better — he prepared you for that. Curling his digits inside just to draw another moan from you.
“Louder. Don’t be shy.”
Another thrust knuckles deep. Louder moan. Louder gasp.
“Guess I have to make you louder.”
It wasn't a threat, more like an order to himself. A challenge. The moment his fingers slipped out, leaving you empty for just a second, he pushed in. Groaning harshly. You could see his eyelashes flutter, could feel the puffs of air against your mouth. Your breath mingled together, and those were the only sounds in the room for a few seconds before being replaced by moans.
“Yes, just like that, sing for me, doll face.”
And you moaned. Because you wanted to, because it was right for you. Because he felt so good. You didn’t care about his past, his actions outside hotel rooms, his life. All you cared about was his dick inside you.
The cool metal of his piercing dragged against your inner walls, cold against them. Such a contrast with the hotness of his cock.
As always, your moans couldn't be silenced by the thin walls of that shithole. He always smirked when neighbors banged their fists on the walls, shouting, yapping until they understood you two didn’t give a fuck about them.
He thrust mercilessly, hitting that one spot inside which made your toes curl and your mind go blank. The bruises on your hips would stay for days until he renewed them next time you met.
His breath against your ear became ragged, just like your moans became even louder until all you could do was squeak. Those moments of seeing nothing but white were always the best. Feeling the waves of pleasure run through your body made you tremble. He never let go of you right away, always collapsing and taking time to just breathe properly.
You knew he was smiling. He always did.
“For someone who barely talks, you sure know how to get inside a guy’s head.”
It was true. You hardly ever said anything, yet it was enough for him to think about you all the time. Maybe it was because you were so different yet so similar. Like you didn’t need any words to understand each other.
Though it always ended the same. With you leaving after the shower and waiting for him to appear in the shadows again.