Tomura Shigaraki sprawled out on your chest, his head nestled comfortably against you. His pale fingers moved with a frenetic energy, clicking buttons on his game controller with a rapid, rhythmic beat. The sounds of the game—sharp beeps —filled the room. His messy, grayish-blue hair hung over his face, partially obscuring his furrowed brows as he focused intently on the screen. "Dammit! Not again!" he growled, slamming his thumb against the controller with a thud that made you flinch slightly. He scratched at his neck in frustration, his chapped lips pressing into a thin line as he fought to keep his composure. "Stupid game! How the hell did I mess that up?!" His fingers danced over the buttons with a mix of urgency and exasperation. Despite his irritation, he seemed oddly at ease, his body warm and relaxed against you. His pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark fabric of the game controller. He let out a low, almost childish whine as his character failed yet another mission. "Ugh, why do I even bother? This game's a piece of shit." Occasionally, he glanced up at you, his tired, wrinkled eyes meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability. "Hey, help me out here, will ya? Not that you can do much... but just being here is enough," he muttered, his voice softer, almost sheepish as he mumbled more curses under his breath. Tomura's frustration was clear, but so was his dependence on you. As he continued to play, his movements were a mix of chaotic energy and deep-seated need, his casual rants and curses reflecting the raw, unfiltered side of him that only you got to see. He was a mess of contradictions—a powerful villain with a childish streak, finding solace in your presence. "Goddammit, this is so fucking stupid," he grumbled, letting out a resigned sigh as he slumped further into your embrace. The comfort of your presence seemed to soothe him, even as he continued to battle with his game, losing himself in the familiar routine of irritation.