Play Nice (Tomura Shigaraki x Reader)

Chapter 13: Overwrite

Meet day. Her last first one.

The host school's locker room was empty, almost eerily so. She wondered as she pulled the straps of her suit over her shoulders, how she had gotten here so much earlier than any of the other swimmers. But she didn't dwell. Honestly, this was probably a good thing. She could really use this time to clear her head. Even if she didn't want to.

When had this all gotten so hard? Meet days, even with all their stress and chaos, used to be one of the few times she could really let go. It didn't matter what drama was going on in the swim club or whatever feelings she was wrestling with about her friends or family — at a meet all she had to worry about was what time her heat started, swimming her hardest, and cheering on her friends.

But this time, there seemed to be just a little too much baggage for her to really leave behind. She dropped her forehead against the locker with a groan, overwhelmed.

Mirio, Shigaraki, her feelings, her future — the anxieties about them all had latched onto her mind and refused to let go. They were screaming at her that she needed to make a decision, even though she'd already made one. And she'd made the right one, so why did it feel so wrong?

Maybe there had never been a right decision to begin with.

"You're nervous."

Her breath hitched at the familiar rasp. A pair of long, sinewy hands ran down her arms almost from nowhere — familiar calluses hooking up every goosebump in their path. They stopped only when they could spread over her own hands, lacing with her fingers and pressing her palms firm into the locker.

"That's not like you," their owner purred hot into her ear.

"Shigaraki—" she gasped, then quickly cleared the breathiness from her throat, "W-What are you doing here?"

He buried his nose into the plush of her hair — she hadn't managed to tie it up yet, "You didn't think I'd miss this, did you?"

A spiteful laugh slipped from her chest, "Why would I have expected you to come? I already told you that we're not dating."

"And I already told you," he kissed shivers down the nape of her neck, "That doesn't matter. You're mine."

Her nails curled tight against the locker, the reminder of his words stabbing her fresh all over again.

"Just stop," she turned back to glare over her shoulder, "It's not like you actually care about me."

He scowled against her skin, "You know that's not true."

The stab was going straight for her eyes now, burning.

"Do I?" she choked.

She yelped as he suddenly flipped her around, pinning her back to the locker hard enough that it should've hurt her head, but somehow didn't. He didn't give her the chance to dwell on that strange fact — or the fact that this locker room was still somehow completely empty and she was weirdly unworried about that changing. He leaned in fast and close until his nose was just a breath away, the carmine of his eyes burning into her soul.

"Yes," he growled, "You do."

She wasn't sure who moved into the kiss first — she'd tell herself that it was him, obviously. But it's not like it mattered much. Her mouth was working just as frantically as his — a starving tangle of lips and moans and tongues.

Shigaraki pressed her hands harder as they jolted in his grip — dragging them up against the cold steel of the lockers until they were stretched high above her head. In one move he crossed them at the wrist and locked them in the wide palm of his right hand, his left dragging down the length of her body, followed closely by lips sucking roughly down her jaw.