Well, that wasn't true. You didn't have a good reason to be standing in front of the door of Tomura's fancy new office at the PLF headquarters. You had reasons, but they made you feel stupid.
You frowned as you looked at Tomura through the glass wall. He looked busy, doing whatever he does on the computer. Probably something important—too important to be interrupted. You shouldn't have come here.
Turning on your heel, you walked down the hallway, freezing as he called your name, muffled through the glass. "I thought you were coming in?"
Fuck, he must have seen you. You should've been faster. Defeated, you spun around, opening the door to stick your head in. "What's up?"
He cocked his head, removing Father from his face. "Were you not coming to see me?"
Fuck, he looked really cute like that—hair gently tousled, his tie loose around his neck. He'd been wearing more suits lately, and it'd be a lie to say you weren't at least a little feral about how good he looked in them.
"I was," you admitted. "I was just bored, and I missed you and wanted attention. But you look busy, and I don't want to bother you," you trailed off, feeling embarrassed.
He blinked, looking more confused than before. "Huh? Why'd you think you'd be bothering me? Is that why you're not coming in? Come here," he pat his thigh.
You should've known better than to think he wouldn't read you like a book. He was too observant. Or maybe you were just easy to read. You sighed, stepping into the office and shutting the door behind you.
Despite his obvious desire for for you to sit on his lap, you leaned on the desk instead. "Are you sure I should be sitting on you?" You asked, trying—and failing—to ignore his pout. "You just got your cast taken off, I don't want to strain yourself."
"I'm fine," he grumbled, before tugging on your hands. Sometimes you were jealous of Tomura—He didn't have the self-doubt or internal shame you had about asking for things. Maybe it wasn't a rational thing to be jealous of, because it definitely had come to bite him in the ass before. This time, though, it worked in his favor—rolling your eyes, you tentatively sat in his lap as his hands wrapped around your waist.
"There we go," he smirked, looking all-too pleased with himself. Ever since he gained full control over decay, he'd been more touchy than normal. If you were in reach, he always had a hand on you—your's in his as you walked, one on your thigh when you sat next to him. Not to mention how handsy he'd been when it was just the two of you. It was nice, although it made his absence feel worse.
"Why didn't you come in? Tell me," he asked, squeezing your sides.
You should've known better than to think Tomura would drop the subject. He was particularly stubborn about some things. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself. "Again, I thought you were busy."
He cocked his head. "I wouldn't have minded."
You hummed in disapproval. "Easy for you to say. Remember when you snapped at me for bothering you at the bar?"
"Oh," he frowned, looking equally embarrassed and mad at himself.
"Yeah," you reached down to playfully poke him in the chest. "And I want an apology."
"Sorry," he said immediately, "I was an idiot back then."
"It's okay," you laughed, "You're smarter now." You leaned in to kiss him, happy that you decided to come here after all—even if it was to just get a little bit of attention.
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Shigaraki thought sending you out on a mission would give him a break, but with you out of sight, the last thing you are is out of his mind. This time, when he meets up with you, he's got a plan. The real question is if you'll let him carry it out -- or if your grip on the upper hand is something you'll never release.
just some more smut...semi-public sex, handjobs, incompetent fingering, incompetent simultaneous orgasms, etc.
part iii of the hands series: part i and part ii
Shigaraki lingers at the mouth of the alleyway, feeling way too exposed, in spite of the fact that he’s got his hood up and a surgical mask over the lower half of his face. This was stupid. Anybody could have told him that, which is why he didn’t tell anyone. He almost wonders if he caught a stray blast of your quirk. That’s the only reason he can think of why he’s doing something this dumb. He’s not sure if you even got his message. What is he doing here?
As soon as he has the thought, as soon as he even thinks about turning to leave, he spots you. You’re across the street, walking towards a crosswalk with your hands in the pockets of your hoodie. Shigaraki’s hoodie, which you still haven’t given back. Shigaraki knew you’d kept it. He just didn’t think you brought it with you when he sent you and Toga and Twice to infiltrate Overhaul’s gang.
Sending you along was a no-brainer, the kind of thing that even somebody under the influence of your quirk could come up with. Getting Overhaul to accept you was even easier. All Shigaraki had to do was get you to target Overhaul and his right-hand asshole before he went to meet them, and it was easy to convince them that your quirk was touch-based. Now Overhaul has you wandering the streets, looking for heroes to dumb down, with no clue that you’re his real target. Between you, Twice, and Toga, it’s only a matter of time before the Shie Hassaikai crumbles.
It’s a great idea for all those reasons, and Shigaraki thought there was another one – he’d get you out of his sight. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that shit, and by the time you got back, whatever it is about you that pisses Shigaraki off so much would be a distant memory. Three days after you and the others left, he figured out the one flaw in his plan. Out of sight, out of mind doesn’t make things better when it comes to you. It makes it worse. A lot worse.
Before, when he could count on seeing you at least once a day, he barely thought about you at all. Now he thinks about you all the time – where you are, what you’re doing, what you’d be doing if you were with him instead of locked up in Overhaul’s compound. Except then he found out that you aren’t locked up. You can blend in well enough that your job is to have chance encounters with as many heroes as possible, including all the ones Overhaul knows are after him. Shigaraki has ideas about that. To get them across to you, he has to meet you in person. That’s why he’s here.
Or why he told himself he’s here. You make your way across the street, turn left, and Shigaraki ducks back into the alley. A moment later, you’re there, drawing your hands out of your pockets. “What –”
“Were you followed?” Shigaraki asks, pulling his mask down. You shake your head. “How do you know?”
“The heroes are on the lookout for any Hassaikai members. If any of them are spotted following me, my cover will be blown.” There’s half a smirk on your face. “No one followed me. Did you want an update or something?”
“You haven’t done anything to the heroes yet, right?” Shigaraki asks. You shake your head. “Good. I want you to make them smarter.”
You raise your eyebrows. “That’s a new one.”
“Not all of them. Just the ones tracking Overhaul,” Shigaraki says, and that smirk comes back. “It’s not enough to take him down. He needs to be humbled. We could do it, but why should we do all the work when –”
“The heroes will do it for us,” you say. “Not bad, Shigaraki.”
You drag all kinds of weird praise out of Shigaraki, but he’s supposed to settle for “not bad.” Shigaraki feels a familiar surge of irritation, probably because you’re still talking. “I’ll have to be careful with it. If I pick anybody who’s investigating us at the same time, we’ll get ourselves in trouble. But that’s a national-level investigation, and everybody working this one is small-time on purpose, so as long as I skip Ryukyu I should be – hey!”
Shigaraki’s caught your arm – index finger lifted – and pulled you further into the alley. He caught you off-guard, which has happened maybe twice before now, and instead of gloating about getting one over on you, he decides to put it to use. The wall’s right there, and you deserve a taste of your own medicine. Shigaraki pushes you back against it and kisses you.
He only gets a few seconds to enjoy it, because he was dumb enough to let go of your arm. You get your hands on his shoulders and push him away. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Shigaraki ducks from beneath your hands and pins you this time – index fingers up, again. You look frustrated, exasperated, fucking finally. Now you get what happens to Shigaraki every time he sees you. “Hold still. I just want to –”
“If this is what you came for, you could have just said that,” you interrupt. Your arms are crossed over your chest. “Not wasted time talking about the mission.”
“I wanted to talk about the mission. Now I want this.” Shigaraki leans in again, already annoyed with how your crossed arms are getting in the way. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
“I want to know how I managed to piss you off when I haven’t been in the same city as you for two weeks,” you say. “I’m doing everything you wanted me to do. Except –”
“Kiss me.”
“I didn’t think this stuff –” you unfold one arm and gesture between yourself and Shigaraki “– was an order.”
Right. Shigaraki forgot about that part. The part where this was all your idea in the first place. The part where he can barely bring himself to go to you even when he wants to. The incredibly stupid part where he snaps and bitches and hints until you come find him. He’s never come to find you first.
He feels like he’s going to be sick. “Do you not want to or something?”
You open your mouth to speak, then close it again, glancing away with frustration on your face, and Shigaraki lets go and steps back. “Leave,” he says. He got his answer. He doesn’t need to hear it from you. “Get out of here before you get caught.”
“Shigaraki –”
“Go after the heroes. Or don’t go after them. I told Toga and Twice to do what they want, so you should do that.” Shigaraki takes another step back from you. He feels disgusting, and he wants you to leave before you see it. “I don’t care what you do. Just go.”
“I could do that,” you say slowly. So you should. Shigaraki makes some kind of shooing gesture at you, and you knock his hand aside. “Or I can do what I want.”
You reach out towards Shigaraki, and he goes to knock your hand aside the same as you did to him – only then your other hand comes up and grabs a fistful of his shirt, yanking him forward. Shigaraki stumbles, and you use it against him, pivoting and pushing until he’s the one backed up to the wall. You close the distance, getting way closer to Shigaraki than he got to you, until the two of you are nose to nose and he can feel your warmth through his clothes. “What are you doing?”
You roll your eyes. “What do you think?” you ask, and you lean in to kiss him.
Your mouth is warm against Shigaraki’s, and you don’t kiss him like he thought you would. He’s always had to lure you into kissing him, and when you get him off, you do it by taking him apart. He thought you’d kiss him like that, but you don’t. Your hands don’t go where he’s used to them, either. They end up on either side of Shigaraki’s face for a few seconds, before one moves to trail along the side of his neck. You kiss him way too gently for what you’re usually like. It’s weird.
Weird, but Shigaraki’s not against it. He gets less against it with every second that passes, and as the rest of his body reacts, it becomes harder and harder to keep his hands still. If he were at the hideout he wouldn’t care where he put them, as long as they weren’t on you, but if he puts his hands flat against the wall, the building he’s leaning against will come down. Curling them into fists feels wrong, too. Shigaraki needs something to touch. He curses against your mouth and you draw back, puzzled. “No,” Shigaraki says through clenched teeth. He shifts slightly against the wall, trying to get comfortable, and your leg slips between his. “Fuck –”
You kiss the corner of his mouth, then duck your head, your lips moving along his jaw, down over the side of his neck. Shigaraki’s body jerks, his cock pressing against your thigh. It’s not as good as your hands – nowhere near as good – but it beats humping a pillow by a mile. Shigaraki groans and grinds against you again. “I was wondering what was taking so long,” you say, your mouth still pressed against the side of his neck. “Usually you’re already horny when you come find me.”
“You’re the one who says I wait too long –” Shigaraki’s hands uncurl and then curl into fists again when your teeth meet his skin and he realizes that you’re leaving marks. “I needed to see you. Shut up.”
“I’m not the one making noise,” you say. Some awkward, desperate sound works its way out of Shigaraki’s mouth, and you shift oddly against him. “Stop it.”
Right. Like Shigaraki’s ever been able to shut up when you’re getting him off. He sucks down one breath, then another, wishing you’d just touch him already, and you shift weirdly again. Something crosses Shigaraki’s mind, and he bends his knee slightly, struggling to focus while your hands work their way inside his jacket, then under his shirt. You make that odd motion again, and suddenly it clicks for Shigaraki. “Wait, are you –”
“No,” you say sharply, but Shigaraki presses his leg upward, and just like a second ago, your hips roll against it. “Cut that out.”
“Do you like this?” Shigaraki feels your teeth against his throat and almost loses it. You haven’t bitten him before, and your hands are up under his shirt, ghosting over his ribs. “Fuck. Wait a second. You like this, don’t you? You like –”
Me. Shigaraki blanks that thought out of his head. It’s easy to do with you’re sliding your hand between his legs, over the outline of his cock. “What does it matter?” you snap. Your cheek is hot where it brushes against his jaw. “I can take care of it myself. I don’t need help.”
Before he can stop himself, Shigaraki’s imagining it – what it must look like when you touch yourself, thinking about him. He needs to know more. Like where you are when you’re doing it. How long it takes you to get off thinking about him. What you’re thinking about, exactly, when you’re thinking about him. The thought heats his face up even worse than yours. He thinks about watching you and almost comes on the spot.
You notice. You yank your hands away and step back. “Go home, Shigaraki. Before you get caught.”
“Is that the only reason I should go?” Shigaraki’s body strains for more from you. He could come like this if he jerked off three-fingered, but it wouldn’t be the same. “I think you just don’t want me to see how much you like it.”
You take another step back, arms crossed. “No. Too much exposure.”
Shigaraki nods towards the back end of the alleyway. “Back there.”
“Behind the dumpster?” you repeat. “Are you crazy?”
“I emptied it,” Shigaraki says. “Wiped my hands off and everything.”
“Don’t waste your time with that,” you say. “Is this really how you want to get caught, Shigaraki? Japan’s number one villain arrested for public indecency?”
“If you don’t want to get caught, we should go back there.” Shigaraki levers himself off the wall on shaky legs. “Now.”
Shigaraki’s not sure if you’re going to follow him, but you do, and once you’re both out of sight, he lets you push him against the wall again. It’s easy to pick up where the two of you left off, with your hands all over him and your lips against his throat and his jaw until there’s no way he can keep quiet unless you’re kissing him. Shigaraki can’t focus when you’re like this, and when you finally fumble past his waistband to his cock, his mind goes almost entirely blank. Except for one thing.
If he doesn’t do something soon, he’s going to forget all about it. Shigaraki forces his fingers open and reaches out four-fingered to grasp your waist, flicking aside your shirt and slipping two fingers past your waistband to get a grip on your underwear. You notice that for sure, and you start to pull away from Shigaraki. Shigaraki closes all five fingers around the thin fabric of your underwear, touching nothing else, and Decays it out of his way.
You don’t take your hands back, but you loosen your hold until you’re barely touching Shigaraki at all. “Why did you do that?”
“They were in the way.” Shigaraki grabs your hip again, pulls you within reach, then wedges his hand, thumb and little finger folded, between your legs before you can close them. He swears he can feel the heat of you through your clothes. “If you want me to stop, give me something else to do.”
“Something else,” you repeat. Your fingers brush lightly over Shigaraki’s skin, tracing the crease where his hip meets his thigh until he squirms. “If I make you come so hard you pass out, I guess you’ll have to stop.”
Shigaraki presses upwards with the palm of his hand, and at first you flinch. But then you lean into him, your hips rolling forward, and Shigaraki feels a surge of triumph. “Bet I can make you come first.”
You laugh at him, and finally wrap your fingers around his cock. “Absolutely not.”
Shigaraki wants to prove you wrong, wants to see, but when you pin his free hand to the wall and go back to stroking his cock at a pace that’s almost too slow, there’s nothing he can do except react. The two of you are in an alleyway, behind an empty dumpster, and you’re touching him like you’ve got all the time in the world. How come you never do this back at the hideout, where there are separate rooms and doors that lock? Shigaraki’s not an exhibitionist. If anything could kill his mood, it would be someone else finding the two of you like this. Seeing him like this. Taking up even part of your attention, when all of it’s supposed to be on him.
But all of your attention has consequences. “If you can keep quiet, I must not be doing very well,” you murmur, your lips never leaving the side of his neck. “Do you need me to use my mouth?”
Shigaraki thinks about it – you pulling away, sinking to your knees, a split second of frustration before your lips close around his cock. It would feel so fucking good. But this feels good, too, and you’re trying to trick him. “No,” he says, and you make a skeptical sound. “I can’t touch you like that.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“It’s about me. And I want to touch you.” Shigaraki has his hand between your legs, but he’s not really doing much with it. He presses up with his fingers, rubbing in a circle in what he hopes is the right spot, and you startle. “I gave you a tutorial the first time. I should get one.”
You don’t answer. Shigaraki struggles to focus. You’ve stopped screwing around, and now you’re touching him with purpose, the way you do when you want him to fucking fall apart. Shigaraki grits his teeth, trying to forget about your hands, about your lips against the side of his neck. “Unzip your pants.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Fuck – stop, not yet –” Shigaraki reaches down and shoves your hand away. “Just do it, okay? So we can –”
“You want us to come at the same time? This isn’t porn,” you snap. Your face is hot. Shigaraki can feel it, your cheek pressing against the side of his neck. “Is it some weird fantasy of yours?”
No. It’s not something Shigaraki thought about until five seconds ago. But it would have been a weird fantasy if he’d thought about it before now, so he doesn’t feel guilty about saying yes. And he feels even less guilty when you unbutton your jeans and pull the zipper down halfway. Your underwear’s gone. There’s nothing in his way when he refolds his thumb and little finger and wedges his hand between your legs.
You’re wet.
He was messing with you before, about how much you like this, like him – but not this much. He didn’t think it was this much, so much that you shudder when he touches you, so much that your head falls forward against his shoulder and he feels your legs shake. You talk to him when you’ve got him like this, usually. Teasing him. Taunting him, almost, but Shigaraki’s not interested in that. He just wants to see. Feel. Hear, because the way your breathing picks up as you press against him is the best sound he’s ever heard in his life.
Your hands are still moving, stroking his cock, but he knows he’s distracting you. You touching him is hot on a normal day. Today he can feel how he’s breaking your composure, and that’s even hotter. “Hey,” Shigaraki gasps. You shake your head, slumping forward against him. “Hey. Look at me.”
You shake your head again. Shigaraki presses his fingers against you, not patient enough to tease, and his middle finger slips between your folds almost by accident. Your body jerks against him, a sharp sound leaving your mouth, and it doesn’t matter that you’re barely touching him, that your grip on his cock is shaky and loose – when he feels your body clench tight around his fingertips, he comes all over your hands.
He keeps his fingers moving, somehow. Something must be wrong with him, if he’s coming everywhere and all he can think about is you. “Did you come?”
“Don’t be stupid,” you mumble. Your legs clamp tight around his hand, trapping him so he can’t pull away. He can’t move his fingers, either. “And don’t ever bring this up again.”
“Or what?” Shigaraki asks. “I want my hand back.”
You’re kind of reluctant about it, which is hot. All of you is hot. Even the offended look on your face when Shigaraki sticks his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean. That settles it. Next time, Shigaraki’s not going to use his hands. “You’d better get back soon,” he tells you. “I’m not waiting another few weeks to do this again.”
“You should let me go back, then,” you say. You wipe your hands off on the inside of Shigaraki’s shirt and pull away, zipping up your pants and buttoning them. “Don’t get caught on your way back.”
“You’re forgetting something,” Shigaraki says as you turn away. You glance back at him, eyebrows raised. “You know what. Get back here.”
You come back to him slowly, slower than before, and the kiss you give Shigaraki feels different than the other ones. Like you’re not as sure about this as usual. Like Shigaraki has the power here, not you. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t. You’ve still got the upper hand. Both of them. But there’s no way Shigaraki’s going to forget about this. He’s already thinking about how he’ll do it next time.
He can’t resist asking, though. “How’d I do?”
You kiss him again instead of answering, then turn to leave. You answer him over your shoulder, so quiet that he barely hears you. “Good,” you say, and Shigaraki catches your arm and drags you back in for another kiss.
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i understand the appeal of vampires cradling you in a parody of a lover's embrace while they feed on you i absolutely get it. however ☝️ i will always insist that the person being fed on embracing, holding in place, or even pulling the vampire back in for more when they try to stop themselves is infinitely more erotic. especially if there's a hint of visible revulsion in it; an instinctual repulsion that nearly overrules any desire. even more so if either party is tormented by soul-crushing guilt and disgust with themselves in the aftermath.
yes i can appreciate the conceptual appeal of a beautiful humanoid apex predator literally pursuing you like water in the desert but i think that everyone should be more conflicted and not having a great time about it
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🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...
❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.
🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.
🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.
🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.
💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.
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☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?
🌪️Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags.
btw i love when dubcon is used in fiction as a way to explore characters. i love when characters don’t understand how to “properly” ask for consent because they have never had their consent respected in their lives. i love when traumatized adult characters make potentially unwise choices about what to do with their bodies because they have the autonomy to do so. i love when characters make choices that i personally wouldn’t make, but i can totally understand how they got there. i love when characters have complex, fucked up, unhealthy dynamics, but still care about each other and want to do better. i love when writers trust audience members to read between the lines instead of spoon feeding them moral lessons. i love when characters are allowed to actually fuck up and have mistakes to learn from!
[norman rockwell freedom of speech.jpg] i will say it. i will go to bat for x reader fanfic writers. it doesn’t matter if they’re not for me or mischaracterized and show up in nearly every tag, ive been through the fuckass weheartit days where a single picture of a rose encased in ice was inescapable bc people tagged their shit like it was instagram. i have seen worse. x reader fics are labors of love and meant for people with enough whimsy and imagination to gloss over parts that don’t apply to them and kick their feet in bed at the fantasy of being loved and cared for by the hot hunk in a movie they just saw. there’s a thriving ecosystem of readers and writers out there just like any fanfiction, and i support them. if they can’t live on this website of freaks where else could they even go. this is the soul of the goddamn site & i hope everyone is having fun. get behind me selfshippers. all i ask is that you use the readmore button
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a/n: this is based off of american road rules/american policing. probably inaccurate for japan.
This was just what you needed today—a fender bender, caused by some jackass going too fast around a turn in the grocery store parking lot. You had just turned off your car and picked up your phone to dial the police, when you heard a knock on your car.
You cracked your window a smidge, making sure your door was locked in the process. "I'm pretty sure were supposed to stay in our cars until the cops get here."
While you didn't see him get out of his car and walk over, you had to assume this was the man that hit you. He scowled. "Did you call them already?"
"I'm about to," you eyed him warily as he started to scratch at his neck, his skin as irritated as he was. "Is there a problem?"
"The problem is the cops won't do shit," he hissed, his disdain bleeding his already-rough voice. "This is private property. Those assholes will refuse to do their jobs if they don't have to."
It's not like you were a fan of cops, or didn't believe that was possible. Considering he was the one who hit you, he had a vested interest in getting you to drop it. Maybe he didn't even have insurance. The only reason you were even considering calling was because of yours—you needed it to pay for any damages, and a record of the incident.
"Well let me call to double check."
"Suit yourself. Come get me when you realize I'm right, and we can work something out." He stalked off, burying his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.
After explaining your situation to the dispatcher, you found out that he was, in fact, correct. Since no one was injured and you were on private property, they weren't sending anyone out. "Well shit," you sighed, exiting your car to sink down next to him on the curb.
He hummed, "How dare we expect them to do their jobs. Bastards."
"Says you, the bastard who hit me with his car," you snapped, your mouth running faster than you wanted it to. For a second, you cringed at yourself. You shouldn't be saying that, you didn't know this guy. He could be dangerous.
"I didn't see you there," he protested, beginning to scratch at himself again. "How was I supposed to know you were there?"
"I don't know, maybe by slowing the fuck down and looking? You need to always assume someone is there. It's look, then go, not the other way around."
He hunched in on himself. "That's stupid."
"Yeah, well they teach it in schools for a reason. I mean, where'd you even learn how to drive?" You glanced down at the front of his hoodie, a large League of Legends logo plastered over the front. "Oh my god, you didn't learn from a video game did you?"
He sneered, "Of course not, I'm not stupid. Are you asking that just because of what I'm wearing?"
"Maybe," you snickered, mostly to yourself. You, admittedly, were finding messing with him to be kind of fun. "And your driving would suggest otherwise."
He stared at you for a moment, before he seemed to realize you were joking. "Whatever," he huffed.
Staring at him, you tried to gauge his emotions. He seemed as frustrated as you were, and maybe slightly embarrassed. He wouldn't even look you in the eye. You were quickly realizing something—he was cute beneath his rumpled clothes, soft tresses of blue framing red eyes. He looked to be around your age, too.
"Look, how about let's just exchange contact information?" You extended your phone to him. "We can figure out how you can repay me over text."
His eyes met yours for a brief second, before he grabbed your phone, "Fine."
When he handed it back to you, you blinked in surprise. That was the last thing you expected to see. "Shigaraki? Why's there a heart next to your name?"
He flushed a new shade of pink. "That wasn't because of you, it's like that for everyone. I just shared my profile with you. My friend said it was too scary, and I needed to add something cute."
The plain black profile photo and period after his name certainly didn't give a welcoming impression. "I can see why. It is cute," you laughed.
He frowned at you, a faint blush starting to color his cheeks as looked away from you in favor of squinting at the damage on your car. "Whatever."
"Well," you stood, after a moment of staring at him. He really was cute. "We should see how much you fucked up my car."
He stood to follow you. "Do you have to be such an asshole about this?"
You were beginning to relax some. "Did you have to hit me with your car?"
Your heart squeezed as you got your first laugh out of him. "Point taken."
You squat down to look at your car. A large dent on the passenger's side ruined your otherwise unmarred bumper. Luckily, it didn't seem deep enough to cause any internal damages. Still, there could be other issues a mechanic would catch.
Shigaraki squat down next to you. "Looks fine."
You glared at him. "It does not look fine, what are you—" you started, before noticing the corner of his lip was quirked up, "oh, you're fucking with me aren't you. Ha ha."
He grinned wider, the dry skin of his lips cracking slightly. "Maybe."
Fuck, he really was cute, and you were enjoying the banter between you. You were glad you got his number—even if it was to only text you about stupid car crash shit. Standing straight, you took a deep breath, trying to summon all your courage. "Well maybe we can work something out about my possibly fucked up car?"
He stood too, red eyes boring into yours. They were pretty, shining under the light of the midday sun. "Like what?"
"You pay for my car to get looked at, and if there's nothing wrong with it internally, we go on a date?"
He scoffed, and your heart sunk. "What? I hit you with my car and now you're asking me out?"
You couldn't tell if this was him rejecting you. You tried to ignore the pounding of your heart, or the warmth in your face. You shrugged, hoping you seemed unbothered. "I've been with worse men."
He snickered, mouth curving in a smile. "You gotta raise your standards. Alright. What if there's something wrong with it?"
All of your nerves from a second ago dissipated. Not a no, then. "You pay for the repairs to fix it, and we still go on a date."
Shigaraki hummed to himself, eyes crinkling. "Alright. Deal. I'll pick you up, that way I can't hit your car again."
You laughed, "Deal. Just don't hit me instead."
"Don't worry, I don't do vehicular manslaughter on the first date."
"Thank god," you called out, the two of you making your way back to your respective cars. "I'll text you. We can work out the details later."
"Sounds good," he said, before you shut your door, leaving you in the quiet air of your car. You smiled to yourself, watching him speed off through the passenger door mirror. Tentatively, you put your car in drive, and sped off too.
