Unwanted || Tomura Shigaraki

Chapter Thirty

The hideout felt oddly quiet without the chaos of the two loudest League members. Himiko and Jin were practically the life and soul of the group. They always managed to fill my days with endless laughter and playful banter.

Even the loss of Kurogiri's relatively stolid presence made the place feel somewhat emptier.

Tomura had been on edge ever since the early hours of this morning when his close companion had headed off on his mission. Perpetually worrying about his safety, which he would persistently argue was only because of the League, but I had an inkling it may have been more personal than that. In his way, it was kind of sweet how stubborn he was about Kurogiri not being a friend to him. The more he denied it, the more confident I became that he did care for the ominously misted man.

On more than one occasion, Tomura was at the precipice of giving in to the temptation old habits—fingers twitching to scratch on his barely healed neck. Leading to my innovative attempts of pulling everything from my arsenal of tricks and distractions to keep him from undoing all my hard work of healing the irritated skin.

A sure way of keeping him occupied was anything that involved being in close contact with him. Which was exactly the situation we were currently in that morning—me nestled comfortably in his lap at the bar, purring like an old house cat. One of his slender arms cradled around me, while the other was propped on the bar, nursing a glass of the amber gold liquor that he always drunk—much to my displeasure.

He drinks way too much for a man of his age.

I watched observantly as the prominent ridge of his throat moved to the motion of him swallowing back another mouthful of the hard liquor. I rested my head against his shoulder and continued admiring him with tired eyes.

Noticing that my attention was fixed on him, he tilted his head and pecked a sweet kiss at the corner of my mouth. The remnants of his drink were still present, the strong pungent smell to it made my nose wrinkle with distaste.

"Ugh, I don't know how you can be drinking that stuff this early in the day."

"And what's wrong with that?" A smirk on his face as he swirled the liquid around the glass.

"Well, most normal people tend to drink tea or coffee with their breakfast, not a shot of whiskey Toma," I shot back a disapproving look.

"Firstly, I'm far from being normal and secondly this is bourbon."

"Same thing?" He rolled his eyes at my lack of knowledge in liquor.

"Besides, how can you judge when you haven't even tried it." He tilted the glass rim towards my tightly held lips.

"Toma, it's way too early," I protested, leaning my head away from the glass that he was waving in front of me.

"One sip?"

"Hmm..." I growled under my breath, unable to look away from the puppy dog eyes he was using against me.

Seems he's taken a leaf out of my book.

"Just open your mouth, kitten."He rolled my nickname, a raspy whisper that he knew would get me hot under the collar. So I did exactly as I was asked and parted my lips, waiting for him to offer me the glass. However, the glass never did come to me.

I watched eagerly as he took a sip instead, and then tipped his head down and without any warning locked his rough lips onto mine. Spilling the strong, but surprisingly smooth drink down my throat. I hummed in delight at the feeling of his rugged lips combined with the taste of the bourbon.

An irritating smirk was on his face as he pulled back, crimson eyes gazing lustfully over my flushed face.

"How was it?" he said, low and raspy.