𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐃𝐚𝐛𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

11

Dabi's POV:

'Let me use you.'  

He smiled to himself as the words replayed in his mind once again. He couldn't help it. It was too amusing.  

"I'm going to bed," you called from your doorway.

Dabi looked up. "Try not to be too loud whenever you dream of me tonight, princess." 

As expected, you flipped him off, a gesture he'd grown very familiar with within the days the two of you had lived together. Your bedroom door shut, leaving him alone on the couch once again. Hopefully, with everything that had happened that night, you would fall asleep relatively quickly. There was a phone call he needed to make. 

He dimmed the lamp standing in the corner beside him and looked back down. Use him. Sure, he'd let you think that's what you were doing. 

He hadn't expected it to happen so quickly, but it wasn't all that surprising. He'd given you a small taste of the pleasure he could provide in the bathroom the night before, and already you'd begun longing for more. Maybe achieving his goal wouldn't be quite as difficult as he thought. 

The only issue was that you were still holding on to that god-forsaken pride of yours. Somehow, you'd managed to maintain most of the control throughout the entire experience. Even when he'd thought that he'd managed to put himself in a position to dominate you completely, you'd managed to pull him back. His desire had made him succumb to your ploy. 

It didn't matter, though, because he'd felt it. The way your body reacted to his, it was as if it had been designed to take him perfectly. Every curve, every dip, everything about your body felt molded specifically for his touch. It had made him hungry. Enough so that there had been a single instant, where, lost in the euphoria of his release, he'd forgotten that he was merely toying with you. Entertaining the attraction purely for his physical enjoyment. 

Dabi brushed away the thought. The moment had been a fluke, a result of the overwhelming pleasure he'd sought for so long. And it had been short-lived. As soon as he'd looked down and caught your eyes studying him so thoroughly, he'd snapped back to reality. 

He was used to the stares. Every girl he'd been with had studied him like that. Regardless of the pleasure he'd given them, they could never see past the scars that marked him as a monster. Since you hadn't asked about them, Dabi had unintentionally deluded himself into thinking that you were different than the others. That, maybe, you'd been labeled a freak so much in your own life that you didn't care about the differences of others. 

Of course, it was a stupid thought. All people were the same. And with scars that made him so noticeably different than others, how could he expect anyone to look past them? Why did he even care? People's opinions didn't matter. Ever since he'd left his old life behind, he'd vowed never to look up to anyone ever again, to never care about what people thought of him. Such things only caused misery. Because in the end, people never lived up to your expectations of them. Everyone was simply... disappointing. 

To his side, his phone buzzed. Dabi picked it up, squinting from the brightness of the screen, and read the message that had appeared. 

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Number Unavailable:

It will happen two weeks from now. We will meet two days before to finalize our preparations.

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He placed the device down and sighed. The League of Villains always had such tedious tasks for him. Why would they need him now, of all times, when he finally had a lead that could bring him closer to the weapon he sought?