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You’d never thought of yourself as a super clingy person. You didn’t need interlaced fingers or the tangled legs to convince you that you were loved. Just being in the same room with Shigaraki–taking your place at his side whenever he addressed the League, leaning over his shoulder to watch as he played his games–was enough.
Well, that was the case most of the time.
Sometimes there are moments where you’re consumed by this compulsive need to touch, to grab, to claim. It’s the tiniest, most inconsequential gestures that set you off. Like the way your lover chews on his lip as he concentrates on winning an online match. And the way his voice seems so steadfast, so powerful whenever he barks out orders. No matter the trigger, the fuzzy, needy feeling in your head always demanded the sort of satisfaction that only he could grant you.
This time, you were lucky. This time, the two of you were alone, lounging in his room when the urge decided to bubble up in your stomach, making you blind to nearly everything else around you. Shigaraki rubbed at his neck between games, and naturally, your eyes had followed the path of his hand. You adored his neck–the curve of it, the way the pale skin there caught light and practically begged to be marked. He was like a statue carved from marble, perfectly poised for your appreciation–only you weren’t the sort to “appreciate” art from a distance.
So, naturally, you move in closer. You prop your cheek onto his shoulder, pressing a feather-light kiss to the spot where his neck slopes upward into his jaw. There’s no acknowledgment on his part; His eyes remained glued to the screen in front of him. When his left hand drifts upward, you think that you might be getting some sort of affection in return–a reciprocation of sorts. But nope, he just rubs at the spot where your lips had been. You huff, a bit annoyed to have been ignored.
You press your lips to his neck again, a little lower this time. The response is the same, and you, irritated, begin to wonder if he’s doing this purposely–if it isn’t another weird, idle tick he has. Either way, you continue peppering kisses along bits of exposed skin, trying your best to convey some of your unspoken desires. Look at me. Touch me. Love me. But his reaction never changes, and what began as frustration quickly shifts to concern.
“Am I disgusting or something?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Shigaraki asks, finally dropping the controller in favor of facing you.
You kiss his cheek, and like every other time, he wipes at his face like you’ve somehow managed to dirty him. Scoffing, you stare, folding your arms over your chest. It doesn’t take him long to catch on.
“That? You’re seriously upset about that?” He scratches at his jaw.
You shoot back without hesitation. “Yes.” Now it’s his turn to scoff.
“Don’t be stupid. It was just a reflex.” When he sees that you’re not satisfied with his response, he continues. “Listen, you can’t expect me to notice what I’m doing all the time. If I feel something messy on my neck, I’m gonna wipe it away.”
You cock your jaw to the side.
“Messy?” You repeat, incredulous. He leans back onto his elbows, cocking an eyebrow upward like it all makes perfect sense–like you’re the one that’s being unreasonable.
Before you can even question your decision, you reach out and grip his chin, yanking it in closer. He tries to pull himself away, but your fingers are like a vice, digging into his cheek and keeping him still. You lean in close, and before he has time to question your intentions, you drag your tongue along his skin. You’re extra sloppy about it, making sure to leave a trail of saliva that extends from his neck to his temple.
When you pull back, you notice that his eyes have gone dark.
“Next time you complain about my kisses being messy, remember that.”
There’s this positively sinful sound that creeps out from his chest as he uses his palm to shove you down into the carpet. You hit the floor hard, and he nearly suffocates you when he smashes his lips against yours–stealing the air from your lungs. The whole affair is rough, uncoordinated, and frankly, quite messy. Still, you kind of liked it that way.