Rough Hands - A T.ShigarakixReader Story

Marks.

Tomura had practically disappeared over the few days after you had kissed. He had barely been in the room, deciding to do his gaming in the bar instead of your shared room. Sometimes with Spinner, sometimes completely alone, and sometimes completely alone until the very early hours of the morning, barely managing to lie down on his mattress some nights. Instead, you had found him slumped, asleep against the wall. 
You got the feeling he was deliberately avoiding you, although you had no idea as to the reason why, so you didn't bother trying to lay him in his bed properly like you usually would have.

Whenever you entered a room he was in, he seemed to make an effort to not talk to you. He'd create conversation with whoever was closest instead, even seeming to be attempting to be polite to Dabi, who he'd been so adamant he'd hated. However, whenever you tried to do the same, he'd stare you down, or stare the other down. Whether it was Twice, Toga or Mister, they all received the same cold, dark, dangerous look that always seemed to succeed in getting them to scurry off.

Tonight, you had been sat entirely on your own, looking over at all the others as they drank and joked surrounding the bar. Even Toga was involved, sat on the edge of the bar itself, swinging her thin, pale legs gleefully as she conversed with Twice and Big Sis Mag. They looked like they were having so much fun. Even Tomura's lips twitched into a half smile a couple of times.
You'd felt Dabi's eyes on you from across the room before you'd even realized he'd made his way over to you, your attention fixed entirely on the large group of people sitting around the bar.

"What happened to your neck?" He'd asked, his fingers running across the scars that now ran across the side of your throat, just another addition to the collection Tomura had given you.
You had grabbed his wrist reflexively, the grasp around the scarred skin that you held onto had been so tight, you'd felt his bones groan slightly.
"Don't touch me." You'd said, slowly, venomously. 
You could see Tomura looking over at you both from the bar, his angry red gaze seeming to pierce straight through the people that gathered around him. 

"Jeez. Alright doll face. Ease up." Dabi had murmured, his voice almost having sounded a little impressed. 
You had practically thrown his hand away from you, looking at him with the most anger you could possibly gather in your pale pink eyes.
"Touch me again and you may just lose your hands." You promise him, your tone serious, threatening. 
It had been a while since you'd threatened anyone, always being put on the back pedal. Tomura was the Symbol of Fear. You were his faithful sidekick, there to heal him and heal him only. Of course Dabi didn't, and couldn't know that. So you treasured the small smirk of what you considered respect as he moved away from you.

But that's how you ended up pinned under Tomura, his teeth and tongue attacking your throat in a way you'd never experienced,or never known you'd want to experience. You couldn't even process the entire sentences he was grumbling between the harsh administrations of his sucking to your neck, your eyes having hazed over as you stared up at the ceiling, unable to wiggle away from him, unable to focus on anything apart from the bittersweet pain as he attacked your soft skin relentlessly.
His teeth kept grazing over the recent scars, the red lines running across your neck, the sensation tickling slightly and making your back arch instinctively each time he did it.

"Thought it'd be clear enough." He grumbles. "Clearly has no XP in intelligence. Those are my marks. Mine."
You can't think, your head basically swimming as his hands tighten and loosen against your wrists, the tightening making your bones creak in the most deliciously painful way.
You have no idea what he's doing, where he learned it, but you do know you're loving every second of it. The wetness you'd become so aware of between your legs seeming to become more and more with every tug of your skin between his teeth, every thrash of his tongue against the scars, every groan as he bucked his hips into yours.

His fingers carefully slip down the arms of your cami top, allowing the flesh of your collarbones to be entirely reachable to him, no material getting in the way of the flow he seemed to have picked up. You let out a small whimper as his tongue runs along the raised, mangled scar that graces your shoulder, a string of drool connecting him to you even as he moves away from the end of it. He doesn't allow himself much of a break though, going straight back to attacking your shoulders and collarbones with bites and sucks, occasionally rutting into you harshly, that hard thing that had been in his pocket when he kissed you pressing against a sensitive spot you never even knew you had before, making your eyes haze over even more.
The mewls, moans and pants leave you crudely as he finally begins sucking at the scar along your collarbone, the swirling of his tongue and the grazing of his teeth against the sensitive skin beginning to tie a knot in your stomach that begged to be released.

"Shut up." He hisses at one stage. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."
One of his hands slams your wrist into the mattress, hard, your bones cracking loudly underneath his grip. There's a momentary pause, his eyes moving up towards where your arm lay. You barely even acknowledge it, your brain well and truly lost to the pleasure you'd never experienced before. 
There's a shift in warmth as he moves away from you, the pressure disappearing from your wrists, and the feeling of being grounded as Tomuras body lay over yours going along with it. 
He leans back as he kneels, looking over you with his legs still straddling your body. 

"Pretty." He says, another smug smirk on his face as he looks down at you. "That should be more obvious now."
He moves off of you, the remainder of the warmth he had been giving off disappearing entirely as he does so. You lean yourself up on your elbows, looking at him as he begins to leave the room, your eyes still hazy, his figure and hair becoming a baby blue and black blur.
His hand hovers over the door handle for a second, and you barely make out his head turning to face you.
"If you heal yourself..." He warns, the sentence unfinished, but threatening.

He leaves, the half-threat still hanging in the air as you blink dully at the closed door.