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

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 . 𝟖

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╰┈➤ ❝ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : ❞
Mentions of Stalking .
❀° ┄──────╮

Have you ever seen a scrawny, lanky physique narcissist mimick the equivalent of skipping, before?

Tomura had outwardly sprung out from the mist-like warp hole, much like a child who'd been carried away to gawk at the charitables of a stocked candy store. He'd been ecstatic. In his vermillion-eyed wonder, Tomura had found a needle in a haystack, an outlet to actually experience activities he'd only read in assaigned novels & favorable manga.

Whether the unsuspecting girl had been made aware or not, it meant little, next to nothing. Over the course of two (2) weeks, he had coordinated a multitude of routes & intense, multi-player consoles he'd (albeit, by force) would engage with her.

As he dwelled on the topic, mewled over the percentage of his success, Tomura waltzed down the freshly swept pavement.

Tomura, whilst yes, had the emotional capacity that of a flip switch, had reconciled a very odd facture in these events.

The only reason you had stuck around, indulging in his silent & spiteful duel, had not only been out of a stubborn vendetta. Tomura had concluded you tolerated his unappealing aura, having involved the rematches' prolong rebuttals until the remainder of cash was gone & well spent.

Granted, you hadn't actively known who he was.

In fact, upon further thought, you'd had expressed such a miniscule of kindness to him before.

Tomura's stomach gargled with hunger, churning at the idealistic image of three (3) homemade & fresh Ohagi, courtesy of you.

You'd had even spent the remainder of the evening beside him, a quick & witty banter lacing each retort you'd handled, all of which with care or humor.

His appearance or quirk hadn't been one of discussion, that very night.

Pale-haired, freshly brushed strands that hindered a light blue-tint bounced with the notion of long, large strides. His attire had been freshly cleaned, still having spelt of laundry detergent. In an honest moment, Tomura hadn't even begun to notice his pampered treatment of his outer appearance.

Only when did Kurogiri mention it, had he'd blinked in acute consideration.

"to leave a good impression", "Oh?" Kurogiri would inquire, skeptical. "and to who is this first impression?" He faintly had the displeasure of even hearing the non-existent conversation.

In so, Tomura thought on instinct.

"Pre-released game, it's early access. " Tomura vaguely replied, anxious under his firm resolution. "What of it?"

The wisped villian thought better as to voice his disagreement, well aware that he had no say in the matter. As promised, Kurogiri had no upper-hand, already having comprehended & known what the elder amongst most had affirmed.

The questionable dark & protruded marks of insomnia had gone unspoken of. It wasn't out of the ordinary, for Tomura to struggle with sleep. His active & awoken mind at a constant rewind, be it over fixation or an itch he never truly had the capability to relief.