passionate poison | tomura shigaraki x fem!reader ;; ❞

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄; 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 .

-
╰┈➤ ❝ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : ❞
None
❀° ┄──────╮

Matted strains of pale hair obscured most of his vision, vermillion irises peering into the villian's before him. Their own golden slits narrowing in question of the scowl that resided on the young prodigies' face.

The troubled boy scoffed, his much smaller frame rigid as if his intentions - or rather orders, weren't clear.

Nails scrapped furiously against his neck, leaving vibrant lines of red in their midst. The stench of copper soon followed, lingering in the thick air as Kurogiri witnessed the recurring action.

The urges that crawled under the boy's skin was as if a mantra. Itch, Dust, Itch, Scream, Itch, Dust, Dust.

"..why hadn't I been made aware?" The mist-like villian probed. Tomura grimaced. Itch again.

Correction; his orders were clear, but rather disregarded than followed. "What's so criminal about me wanting personal space?!" He retorted, earning a judgemental glare from his caretaker.

It was quite entertaining, he had to admit. Behind the once obsolete monitor, in a destination who knows where, the villian grinned in amusement as his mangled chin rested in his enlarged palm. The dull room in which he sat now seemingly more toleratable with the display before him.

"Kurogiri," The elder criminal cooed, announcing his presence with a knowing chuckle. It sent a chill down the teen's spine. "It's unlike you to feign ignorance."

Kurogiri subconsciously shuddered at the accusation. "Ignorance..?" He questioned, confused at the term. "I'm not sure I follow."

Tomura groaned, seeking refuge in the tattered hoodie adorning his figure. His Sensai hummed in mirth, enjoyment all too evident in his tone.

"You see, Tomura is no longer a child, Kurogiri." He concluded, "It's expected he'd seek opportunity."

Racking his brain for a much simpler approach upon noticing the Mist's puzzlement, he sighed in mock defeat.

"Tomura doesn't require your company anymore, Kurogiri. He's too..." He paused, "curious to settle." Sensei deadpanned.

Ouch. Tomura could hear the slight pang in his caretaker's heart at the sudden realization of Sensei's words. Kurogiri's heart dropped at the thought of his foster son no longer in need of him, despite his unspoken expression.

Golden, slit-like hues turned to meet crimson, desperately in search of denial. At the sight of cracked lips breaking into a frown, he found none.

"Oh."

Tangled hair blocked the boy's glare of masked guilt, veiny hands twitching by his sides as Kurogiri proceed with Tomura's command without question. No words were spoken, the tension in the air replaced with a haze formulating before them. A gate Tomura would soon regret stepping into later in life.

And unbeknownst to him then, he'd stumble into that very same smog gateway hundred times over if she asked, just as he did that dreary day.

╰──────┄ °❀