Start Game [Shigaraki x Reader]

+ Dex

"What if someone sees?" Your voice trembles, fingers twisting into the ratty texture of his hoodie. It's seen better days, but it doesn't stop Tomura from wearing it every single time you've met him. It and his odd gloves and the weeks-deep bags under his eyes and the suspicion he hasn't seen a warm shower in years are how he finds you every time.

"They won't." He says, crowded up too close to you. "They're all too busy with their games. Nobody comes over here." He glances down the short hallway- he's right. The only thing besides you in this corner of the arcade is a stack of forgotten chairs, covered in dust- probably unused since the last time the arcade had hosted any kind of event and the service door for hauling in new coin-ops. You know this. "Besides, I'll be on this side. They won't see you at all."

This is a bad idea. You tremble against the wall, glance over his shoulder to the dimly lit room, the flashing lights- two people yelling, but you can't decide if it was pvp or co-op. Tomura's ahead of you, pulling open the button to your jeans and pushing his hand between your legs. He's got that light in his eyes, a grin that spreads just too far to truly be happiness on his face- the kind of face that should make you want to run away, not spread your legs as much as your pants allow.

You keep one hand curled into the front of his hoodie and true to his word, Tomura sets his shoulder to the wall. His height blocks your view of the rest of the building. His glove chafes against your right thigh and you worry that you'll ruin them- but Tomura never seems to worry about money, about time- about anything at all, really- and then his exposed fingers circle your clit.

"You're really wet."

You tense against him, desperately lift up to your tip-toes to peek over his shoulder. "Don't, they'll hear you..."

You can't tell him how much you love his voice, the quiet raspiness to it, as though he never talks to anyone except you. It doesn't matter, his fingers continue on, stroke in lazy circles and he leans in. His lips land somewhere above your ear, makes your whole head vibrate as he speaks. "You like this. That's why you're so wet."

You whimper, buck your hips against his touch. Your voice isn't your own as the words slip out. "It's wrong."

Tomura's grin only widens, "That's why you like it." He pants and his finger slip down, press against your entrance. Complaints about teasing rise in you throat- and die out just as fast. He pushes his hips up against your side just as he slides both fingers into you- taking them all the way to the knuckle. You shudder, your mind unhelpfully picturing his cock as he rocks against you. "It's okay, I like it too."

He nestles the heel of his palm up against your clit and between his fingering and your hips moving against him, the pleasure builds quickly- coiling in your belly as you curl your toes. "You're doing so good." He praises, barely hiding the wet noises of his fingers moving inside you. "Warm and soft inside, you're perfect..." You can only mewl weakly and press your face into his hoodie to mask your growing whimpers.

"Dude!" Someone yells.

You clench so hard you worry you've broken his fingers, that you've shredded his hoodie- but Tomura is unphased, impossibly cool-headed as he twists to look over his shoulder. You don't have to wait for his answer to know, "Nobody's looking."

You swallow, nod- his voice is quiet, soothing "Relax." He urges you with a pleasant rub to your sensitive front wall that makes your toes curl. You mutter an apology and try to breathe, to release the stranglehold you have over his hand. You ease up and his fingers come to life again, still sliding into you with ease. "That's it, you're so good for me..."

The praise makes your knees weak, but you can't quite fall back into the rhythm. It's hard to find that vein of pleasure again; each noise from the arcade beyond makes you jump and gasp and anxiously glance to Tomura's face for reassurance. He gives it freely and continues on, only the slightest downward twinge of his brow betrays any thought. But that, too, becomes something to worry about- can't you just relax long enough to cum? Doesn't his arm hurt by now? The longer you're here, the more likely it is you'll get caught and-

His teeth catch against the shell of your ear as he talks. "I want to make you cum." You shudder, nearly lose yourself to him right there. "Come on... I want to watch you."

Embarrassment and shame nearly steal you voice, but you choke out a quiet "I... I don't think I can."

His face tightens- "Why not?" and, oh, you've really disappointed him- "Is it not enough?" His fingers curl inside you, the heel of his palm grinding down on your clit. A whimper escapes you lips as you lift your hips to meet his touch.

You lick your lips, try to look over his shoulder again. You could just tell him you're not feeling it, that maybe you're sore or unused to the position- but when have you been able to lie to him? "I don't want to get caught." You swallow, look to the floor, unable to meet the intense gaze you know is beating down on you. "I can't focus."

Tomura hums in his throat, a little noise of acknowledgement as his fingers slow. It still feels good, the long, thin lengths working inside you with all the precision he uses in his gameplay. Maybe he'll give up- you still enjoyed it, it wasn't exactly a waste- but even from the corner of your eyes you can see it. How his thin, cracked lips spread wide into that same expression that shoots electricity down your spine. "You know..." He says, and this time how his lips brush against your ear is all intentional. "I think I can still make you cum."

He doesn't wait for your approval. The wall of his body between you and the rest of the arcade falls and Tomura sinks to his knees. You gasp, grab at the shoulders of his hoodie, succeeding in only pulling on handfuls of black fabric. "No, Tomura, wait, they can-"

His tongue is warm and wet and so sinfully soft and every thought that isn't oh. flees from your mind. Your knees wobble, so he holds your hips in place with his free hand and his tongue doesn't stop. The angle is awkward, your pants still high on your thighs, but fuck, you can't stop now to shove them down more, because all you can do is tangle your fingers into his greasy hair and cover your mouth with your hand in a futile attempt to quiet yourself. And even with his mouth hidden in the curve of your skin, you can tell he's grinning, that fire dancing in his eyes just like when he's winning.

He fingers curl again and all you can hear is his words in your ears: I want to make you cum.

Your body jerks against him, white-hot pleasure shooting from your clit out and out until you think it'll burn you. You bite your hand to keep from screaming and Tomura's eyes close as he moans against your skin. The orgasm makes your body shake, muscles contracting on their own, but his arms are stronger than they look in his loose-fitting clothes and he holds you there, keeps you nice and still as he takes his time licking you clean. Even as you tremble in overstimulation, he keeps on, until you're fighting for your voice- now hoarse and choked-up- just to beg him to stop.

He stands, but keeps one hand at your waist. You soak in the sight before you: his already unkempt hair is mussed even more from your grabbing, pupils blown wide, but with the ever-changing light out beyond the hallway, his face glistens. You'd blush if you had any blood left to go anywhere else but your still twitching clit. From the tip of his nose down his chin and spread in a wide arc over his cheeks, your slick covers him. His over-sized hoodie hangs low, but does nothing to help hide the tent that sits heavy between his legs.

He can only grin, that same thing that got you into this mess. Got him into that mess- and with one sleeve of his hoodie he wipes off his face. It takes him a few tries to get enough that he must not feel it anymore, despite the fact that his sleeve is practically soaked through. You don't even want to look at his gloves.

"Come on." The phrase makes your knees weak again, but if he notices he says nothing. "There's a rhythm game I think you'd like." Your head spins and you struggle to find your balance, to follow him back into the loud noises of the arcade. "It has co-op."