roronoro

19💔

[miffchoro]

i’m pro palestine btw so if you don’t like that leave and block me. also to all of yall who are saying ‘oh why should i care? they wouldn’t fight for me’ yes tf they have, do, and will ALWAYS fight for us. but even then, why does it have to be about you just so you can have a heart and be a decent human being?

Daily Click

[zoolilz]

The little things

Modern AU, you’re a college student— a morning with him after a night at the bar.

I had a dream I was dating zoro again. This is inspired off of that LOOOL

Zoro was a close friend of yours, words often exchanged words in the gym, and maybe some meditating at your place after.

Zoro, who would also always gravitate towards you in your classes.

Zoro, who if you ever commented on it, he would just scoff and roll his eyes, his hands folded over his muscular chest as he ignored how quickly his heart was beating.

Zoro, who you would always invite to parties because he would never go himself,

And Zoro, who would always glare at the other partygoers ogling you, which would instantly make them back off.

Zoro, who would pick you up after seeing how drunk you are, holding you close to his chest as he buckles you into the passenger seat of his car.

Zoro, who would have to force himself to not take your hand, rejecting his internal urge to comfort you as you occasionally tensed in your sleep.

Zoro, who would gently wake you up, asking where your keys were before picking you up in a bridal carry and taking you back to your house.

“Zoro?” You slurred out as he picked you up, peering up at his dark eyes, only able to smell a hint of alcohol and his cologne.

“Go to sleep.” He would mutter softly, bringing you to your room— nearly getting lost before he caught sight of one of your posters, remembering you rambling on about said band.

“Y’ such a softie.” You muttered, giggling, your eyes shining as you looked up at him as he tucked you in.

He ignored how his face felt a bit warmer at your laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled, brushing some hair out of your face before sitting at the edge of your bed. “I’m gonna stay for a bit. Can’t have you getting into anymore trouble.”

You woke up with a throbbing headache, barely remembering anything until you looked around and saw Zoro sleeping on a chair in your room, his head lulled to the side and his arms still crossed.

You started to get up, the covers ruffling around your legs— and when you glanced back up, he was standing in front of you, gently guiding you to lay back down.

“Ridiculous.” He muttered, feeling your forehead, tsking at how warm you were.

“Don’t move. I’ll get you some tea and advil. You got any more avocados?”

“Think so…”

“Then I’ll make you some toast too. Just relax.”

You smiled, noticing how much softer his gaze had gotten as he fretted over you, his eyebrows less furrowed and his jaw less tense.

“You’re like a housewife.” You muttered, giggling.

He simply rolled his eyes and left the room, holding back a smile. if being your “housewife” meant being able to spend time with you and take care of you, he’d continue to act as such.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

New tr unlimited art released!

[satochhi]

you were way too drunk, you realized it too late as you stumbled into somebody at some random house party. they caught you by the waist before you could fall. your vision was hazy, your eyes were glassy, but even through your bottle-induced haze, you saw those piercing red eyes staring back at you.

“...you’re pretty.” you muttered stupidly, allowing this familiar stranger to help you slump onto the couch. you couldn’t tell if they were drunk too, or if your compliment had gotten to them, but his face had an undeniable blush spread across it.. “..thanks. you’re drunk.” his voice was gruff, yet soothing. you would hear it all day. you wanted to.

“oh really? i couldn’t tell.”

he let out a scoff at that, seemingly annoyed with you. but he didn't move from his position next to you.

“.. he does this a lot too.” there was a pause after you said that, as if the stranger was contemplating on whether or not to ask further. he brushed a hand through his unruly blonde hair, “who’s he?”

“my ex. he acted juuust like you.” you booped his nose as if for emphasis. “he’d act all tough, but he didn’t leave me. well, i guess he did leave, but that's besides the point.”

you didn’t see anyone next to you for a brief moment, making you think you hallucinated the whole thing, before a bottle of water was abruptly shoved in your face. “drink.”

he slid next to you again like it was natural, his hand moved to go around you by instinct, before he retracted it, you grabbed onto his arm. “..please.”

as if on cue he cradled you to his chest, taking the opportunity to press his head against the top of yours. “you feel like him too.” you mumbled, “sweaty hands and everything.”

he didn’t laugh, but you felt his smile against your head.

it was comforting, the best you’d felt in the months following your break up. you felt the drowsiness overcoming you, prompting you to move your head closer to his chest and lay against his heart. it felt like the same heart that served as your lullaby for years.

“..i hope he misses me.” your eyes were closed, that familiar feeling of comfort and space welcoming you, though the last words that echo through your mind and fuel your dreams sound just like katsuki’s.

“i know he does.”

[who-ishana]

Pairings: Chifuyu Matsuno, Keisuke Baji, Takashi Mitsuya, Manjiro "Mikey" Sano, Ken "Draken" Ryuguji, Takemichi Hanagaki, Hakkai Shiba, Kazutora Hanemiya x Socially anxious!Reader

Writing prompt: Tokyo Revengers characters with a S/O who has social anxiety

A/n: tadaaaaaaa, i'm backkk- barely. I knowww!! it has been ages, lwk i juggled between taking care of my mental health, staying at hospitals, tryna socialise, and then there's my stupid school and educators blah blah blah. Honestly, life feels so exhausting, i'm gonna repeat my sophomore year again T^T anyway, hope you liked it! Also a small warning, it ain't proofread, don't have the time ngl. Might fix later, idk, can't promise.

Pleaseeeee helppppp, if yaaa want! buymeacoffee.com/who_ishana

Chifuyu Matsuno

He is very cautious abt taking you outside

He prefers keeping you beside him/in front of his sight in crowded places, so you don't get lost or end up having an anxiety attack

He wouldn't force you to talk or socialise, and would take care of most of the talking work himself

If you're at a group hangout with the gang, he'll point out the people you didn't meet before, say who's who and what's going on, so you don't feel lost

He is like a live social translator for you lol

Like, if someone is talking with you and you are not sure how to tell smth, he'll gently chime in, "They mean this"

He is proud of you a lot when you find the courage to talk to cashiers or strangers, and would get you ice cream as a reward

He always makes sure you are alright with the places before looking for date spots

When your anxiety gets bad and you start apologizing for being awkward or "weird" while talking, Chifuyu looks genuinely confused because he honestly likes listening to you, even when you ramble nervously (especially then, his words)

He also seems to be the type to quietly squeeze your hand whenever he notices you starting to shut down socially and avoid being involved in extroverted activities/conversation in a big group

Keisuke Baji

Keisuke is terrible at handling emotions delicately at first, but somehow that ends up helping you more than expected

Like he honestly does not understand social anxiety at first

He is the type to loudly ask, "Why are you scared of people? What did they do to you?"

But once he realises it genuinely affects you, he gets weirdly protective

He doesn't overanalyse your anxiety or make everything serious. If he notices you getting nervous in public, he'll just casually pull your attention somewhere else like, "Hey, look at that dumb dog," while dragging you away from the crowd like you're a Ragdoll

He absolutely HATES seeing people talk over you. The second someone interrupts you, he cuts back in with "Oi, they were talking" before giving you his full attention, like you were declaring a national royal announcement

If you get anxious about texting first or bothering him, dw because he accidentally solves the issue by messaging you constantly all the time. Half his texts make no sense, like sometimes he sends random pictures with absolutely no context

He's also weirdly patient when it comes to social burnout

So like if you suddenly go quiet during hangouts, he doesn't pressure you to talk. He'll just sit beside you doing his own thing until you start feeling okay again

He definitely brags about every tiny social victory you make

"Did you hear them order that by themselves? Crazy, right?"

Takashi Mitsuya

Takashi is naturally calming, and talking to him feels less like a chore, which helps you feel at ease with talking. And even if you don't feel like talking or engaging, he's okay with that, too. He'll just patiently wait for whenever you feel like speaking up again

His sisters adore you because Mitsuya talks about you as if you hung the moon, and they also know not to overstimulate you with too many questions and attention

Mitsuya is patient in any way possible. So you never gotta apologise for completely shutting down socially, because he is there for you whenever you need him

He honestly loves those quiet domestic moments with you. Like sitting together while he sews, listening to music tgt, occasionally looking up just to check if you are doing fine

He has this habit of speaking for both of you in public situations without making it obvious. So you don't gotta panic hehe

He is also the type to gently prepare you for social situations beforehand like "Mikey's gonna be there. Emma too. Probably Baji too, if he's not timed out like last time"

Manjiro "Mikey" Sano

Ngl I feel like Mikey would be very oblivious at first about your anxiety

He is too loud, impulsive, and chaotic to immediately notice the smaller signs

At first, he just assumes you are just introverted, and it takes Draken pointing out that you look genuinely stressed in crowds for Mikey to finally realise something is wrong

If he sees you getting overwhelmed during a group gathering or smth, he just randomly decides both of you should leave ASAP. No explanation needed. Because suddenly he is dragging you to get taiyaki instead

He also has no problem with you being a bit clingy when you get nervous in public. You holding onto his sleeve while you walk barely even registers in his mind

Oddly enough, people bothering you becomes one of the few things that genuinely irritates him

Mikey gets exhausted by people constantly expecting things from him, so being around someone who does not demand energy from him feels pleasant

He drags you places all the time, but never forces you to interact once you get there

And half the time, you are just sitting beside him while he yaps and fools around with Draken tagging along to babysit him

He is also unintentionally good at distracting you from spiralling thoughts because his attention span is terrible as fuck

Like you could be mid-panic, and suddenly he is asking if penguins have knees or if lizards are secretly shapeshifters

Ken "Draken" Ryuguji

Draken has the calmest approach to your anxiety out of everyone

He never rushes you; instead, he waits for you to be ready

If you need an extra 10 minutes outside a crowded building/store to mentally prepare yourself, he waits with you with no protest

When someone makes you uncomfortable, Draken notices immediately from your body language alone and steps in

You never have to explain yourself around him, since he is very observant and deeply cares about how you feel

Draken naturally feels the need to position himself as someone you see as your beacon

He often finds himself standing between you and strangers, guiding you through crowds with his hand on your back, and even reassuring you by letting you fidget with his hands when you are overwelmbed or letting you cling to him in public places

Takemichi Hanagaki

Ok ok, i'm gonna be honest... Y'ALL ARE BOTH COOKED—

Takemichi high key understands anxiety deeply because he is anxious himself T^T

The two of you are honestly a mess together most times

You both would be rehearsing conversations before entering stores. You both would overthink too much. And there are moments where neither of you wants to ask for help, so you just stand there suffering silently together while stubbornly refusing to let yourselves be the first to reach out

Lmao i can literally see the two of you probably spending hours apologising to each other over things that were not even problems

But hey, being almost the same ain't entirely a bad idea

Because Takemichi makes you feel understood in a way nobody else can and he tries to be the strongest in the relationship just for the sake of you

If you panic during social situations, he never tells you to stop overreacting or doesn't act embarrassed by it because he knows exactly how awful it feels

He hypes you up constantly too

"You did amazing!"

Meanwhile, all you did was say hi to someone

Takemichi is the kind of boyfriend who gets emotional when you slowly start opening up more around his friends because he knows how hard that was for you

Hakkai Shiba

Hakkai is surprisingly shy himself, so your relationship starts off very quiet and kinda awkward at first

A lot of your early bonding is just existing in the same room comfortably

He understands the fear of saying the wrong thing, so he never pressures you to talk more than you want to

Hakkai also gets nervous introducing you to people because he wants everyone to like you so badly

LIKE THIS BOY IS PATHETICALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU AND MIGHT WEEP IF SOMEONE EVEN SAYS THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF MEAN THING

If somebody is too intense around you, he subtly redirects their attention away before you can get overwhelmed

He absolutely melts if you initiate physical affection in public first because he knows how difficult that can be for you to show affection in front of lots of eyes

So y'all are just two nervous and unsure people trying their best with each other and navigate the world together

Kazutora Hanemiya

Kazutora recognises the signs of you getting overstimulated by all those multiple conversations almost instantly because he knows what it is like to feel constantly on edge

He is actually gentler with you than most people expect

When you get overwhelmed, he never forces you to explain yourself

He just quietly stays nearby until you are ready again

Kazutora understands avoidance habits way too well, so he notices when you are isolating yourself. So he starts casually showing up more often after that, just so you don't stay up in the dark (both metaphorically and literally) for too lont

He likes late-night walks with you because there are fewer people around at that time, and both of you can relax more freely

Sometimes, he absentmindedly plays with your fingers if he notices you picking at your skin from nervousness/bad coping mechanism

Kazutora also gets irrationally angry when people call you "too quiet" or say how you are missing out by being too closed off, and you gotta get out of your shell, because he knows how exhausting it is when people act like that

[atetheluck]

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ A MAN CAN DREAM!

40th adventure

☆ pairing :: roronoa zoro (ロロノア・ゾロ) x gn!reader ☆ genre :: hcs, fluff, romance ☆ warnings :: swearing (fuck/ing) ☆ word count :: 588 ☆ recommended age rating :: 14+ ☆ listenin' to :: wet dreams — odetari ☆

☆ a.n :: mackenyu chill bro you gotta calm down ☆

masterlist taglist

having zoro as your boyfriend means he's always away from home risking his life with the rest of the crew to achive his dreams. no, you're not fine with him potentially dying at sea with nothing but a 'goodbye' and a peck, but it's his dreams he's chasing, so ultimately you let it slide.

“i'll be back in a few days, i promise, alright?”

on the few occasions he does end up bringing you with him, he's never at ease, too busy observing everything that could potentially be a threat to you. after all, pirating dangerously like this isn't something he wants his lover around.

“i'm just looking out for you. can't have you dying.”

zoro isn't one to go searching for romance, it just comes to him naturally. for example, he never planned on wandering off accidentally and meeting you because of it, though he enjoyed his terrible navigation skills that day, especially since he met you.

“what? no, i didn't wander off on purpose, i was just ... you get what i'm saying.”

the pirate hunter really does try his hardest not to flip the fuck out in jealousy when sanji gets a little too touchy touchy with you. keyword: try. he ends up ripping the blonde away and giving him a look and a threat to cut off his stupid head if he touches you again.

“just stay away from the cook, he's an asshole.”

when he gets bored, he just looks over at you and lazily asks if you wanna learn how to use a sword. he'll take you out to that forest he used to train at and hand you his most treasured sword — the one nobody else could touch let alone use.

“wanna go duel?”

zoro isn't one to care about labels or typical romance stuff if you don't. if you don't want to call each other your lover, that's fine. if you don't want to be showered with pet names, that's fine too. your comfortability is his his #1 priority — other than your safety of course.

“'what are we?' does that matter?”

mosshead pretends he doesn't like physical touch, and that may be true for the rest of the crew. but you? he'll let you do whatever you want; touch his hair, hug him, hop on his back, he does not give one fuck as long as it's you.

“you're someone i really care about, why wouldn't i?”

he has little ways to show he cares about you despite all the sarcasm and nonchalance he gives you. he loves leaving you little things to remind you of him, like leaving his sword by your door or leaving his bandana on the counter. you know he does it on purpose, and you couldn't love his thoughtfulness more.

“oh, i left my sword? oops.”

zoro doesn't always know what you need since he's not someone who's been in a bunch of relationships before, but he tries his hardest just for you. he doesn't know what to do when you try to kiss him, or saying 'i love you', or holding hands.

“i'm not blushing, shut up. i'm serious.”

the type to walk around and call you a name or something to get you mad, but in like a teasing loving way. he'll just walk past you and say something so fucking random you either burst out laughing or end up hitting him on the shoulder or the back of his neck and he'll just start laughing in return.

“fucking weirdo ...”

CREDITS — DIVIDERS - @/angeliicide HEADER - pinterest, merged by me

© atetheluck — editing, translating, or modifying my work in any way, shape, or form will result in immediate blockage. do not use my work for ai training, reposting without consent isn't tolerant.

𓐇˚ִִ𓈒 ۫ 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ 𝖠𝖫𝖫 𝖢𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲 :: @whisperingwhiteswan @melfresita-ruri2 @charmersturns @sk1nnylikefel1x @sasgaycumfilledcondom @wolf-eyed-witchh11 @afararraaaa 𓐇˚ִִ𓈒 ۫𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ 𝖠𝖫𝖫 𝖥𝖠𝖭𝖥𝖨𝖢𝖲 :: @channiihartz @ivoraaahills

[dynameow]

THEN AND NOW ✶ FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI

꒰ synopsis ꒱ ✶ katsuki always wondered what the hell his father saw in his old hag of a mother. it takes twenty years, a nasty fight with you, a near-death experience, and a trip to the hospital before he finally gets it

── ✶ word count: 5.8k words ; my drabbles always do this bro

── ✶ before you read: female reader ; pro hero bakugou ; established relationship ; arguing ; (temporary) relationship troubles ; injuries + villain attacks + hospitals (bakugou) ; tame angst with a happy ending! ; communication + resolving arguments ; bakugou’s father makes an appearance ; fluff and banter at the end ; masterlist.

꒰ commentary ꒱ ✶ at the end of the day i will never not be a sucker for the trope where u argue just before a major life threatening incident occurs

It’s 9:32 PM when Katsuki begrudgingly leaves his patrol area and finally calls it quits for the night.

Patrol was supposed to end an hour and thirty-two minutes ago, but he’s been dragging his feet ever since. Taking the long route. Responding to calls that technically aren’t under his jurisdiction. Circling blocks he’s already cleared twice. Anything to kill time. It’s only when Kirishima actively tells him to get the fuck out and stop interfering with his villain count for the night that Katsuki finally accepts defeat and ends his workday.

Ending his workday means going home. And if he goes home, you’ll be there. And if you’re there, he’ll be reminded of your nasty argument from the other night. And if he thinks about that argument, he’ll have to face the fact that the two of you are still stubbornly refusing to speak to one another until the other apologizes first. It’s a ridiculous standoff—an unnecessary one, and he knows it. But neither of you seems particularly interested in ending it, and now his own apartment has somehow become the last place he wants to be. Every room feels charged with an uncomfortable tension. The living room is awkward. The kitchen is unbearable. Even lying down beside you at night feels weird, so Katsuki would rather avoid the whole thing if he can help it.

If he gets home late enough, you’ll already be asleep. Then he can shower, crawl into bed, and pretend the situation doesn’t exist for a few more hours. It seemed like a solid plan in his mind, but unfortunately, thanks to fucking Shitty-Hair, he has no choice but to head home and hang up his costume. 

And judging by the lights still glowing through the windows of his apartment, his luck has officially run out. You’re still awake. Of course.

He trudges in, and there you are—sitting stiffly on the couch in the living room, staring directly at him with your arms crossed and an infuriated glare on your face as you fix him with narrowed eyes. Great.

“Do you have any fucking clue what time it is?” you hiss without missing a beat.

Katsuki should’ve known you’d start nagging the second he walked through the door. Hell, he should’ve turned around and just left the moment he saw the lights on instead of coming in.

“S’not even ten,” he grumbles, kicking his boots off. “Would you fuckin’ drop it—”

“You were supposed to be home almost two hours ago!” Your voice rings through the apartment, sharp and incredulous, and Katsuki is so tired. So exhausted. Too exhausted to deal with this nonsense right now, of all times.

“Yeah, well. Now I’m home. There you go.”

The dismissal only seems to make you angrier. Katsuki practically watches the steam start pouring from your ears as you shoot to your feet, hands planting firmly on your hips. And he just knows your voice is about to get louder.

“That’s it?” you practically screech. He fucking knew it. “You’re out on patrol for an extra two hours, and I hear nothing from you—not even a text saying, I’ll be home late. I’ve been sitting here like an idiot, wondering what the fuck happened, or if you’re okay, and all you can say is now you’re home? Do you just get off on being an asshole or something, Katsuki?”

His shoulders tense immediately as he fixes you with an equally hard glare. There goes his wish for a peaceful, conflict-avoidant night. Of course, as always, you have to drag the conflict right to him and drop it at his feet, spike his temper, and make it ruin his evening. A simple shower and a good night’s sleep was all he wanted. But things are never quite that easy—not with you.

Katsuki feels a dull throb start behind his eyes as he shoots back, “What, was your phone broken or some shit? What exactly held you at gunpoint and stopped you from sendin’ me a text and asking, huh?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

“I’m not laughin’, am I? Definitely no jokes here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you scowl, and he snorts. There’s no humor behind the sound, however.

“Yeah, that’s real mature.”

“Oh no—you don’t get to tell me about what’s mature and what isn’t. Cause if you wanna talk about what’s mature, it’s not disappearing for two hours and acting like I’m insane for being worried!”

“I wasn’t disappearing, I was fuckin’ doing my job.”

“You were supposed to be done with that job hours ago!”

“Well, I wasn’t!”

“You have a smart little answer for everything, don’t you, Katsuki?” you smile sarcastically, “just think you’re so smart and above it all, huh?”

Katsuki doesn’t know if it’s the headache that’s been creeping on him, or the rage, or the pure adrenaline in his system, but he does know that for a short, fleeting second, all he saw was red. 

“Holy fuck, do you ever listen to yourself?”

Your expression hardens instantly. “No, I think you should listen to yourself. You might hear an idiot if you do.”

The apartment goes quiet. Dangerously quiet. 

“You know what?” he says coldly, “forget this. I’m goin’ the fuck to sleep—I’ve dealt with enough bullshit tonight—”

You throw your hands in the air, exasperated. There is a flash of hurt on your face that makes his chest ache, but the sharp stab of pain doesn’t last for long because as quickly as his heart bleeds, his mind makes him forget. It only lets him focus on the anger and the irritation and the way you’ve ruined his night, just like you ruined the one before. 

“Every single time I tell you something bothers me, you act like it’s a personal attack, and then you just dismiss me like I don’t matter—”

“Maybe I wouldn’t dismiss shit if every conversation with you didn’t turn into a fuckin’ laundry list of grievances you got with me!”

“You only take everything I say as a complaint because you refuse to communicate!”

“Because not everything needs to be a damn discussion like we’re in therapy!”

“Right,” you laugh bitterly. “Silly me. God forbid I expect basic consideration from you.”

Something ugly flashes across his face. He knows it. Katsuki knows that when he’s mad, he turns ugly—he’s always been that way. It’s the only way he knows how to be. For the longest time, he thought you were the only person he could hide it from. That you were the only person he could fight the urge to get ugly from because you are just that special. 

But Katsuki is who he is, and he’s learned that he’s a special kind of ugly just for you.

“Basic consideration?” he barks. “You’re sayin’ I’m not considerate?”

“No, sometimes you fucking aren’t and—”

“Oh, that’s fuckin’ rich! I break my back every day keeping this city safe—”

“Well, if the city is the only thing you can be considerate for, why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s silent as soon as the words leave your mouth. Katsuki goes completely still. He can feel it the second it happens—the way his expression shuts down. The way the anger drains out of his face and leaves behind something colder. Something worse. Something so ugly, he has to get out of here before you see it and realize he isn’t worth it. Isn’t worth you. 

“Yeah,” His voice is flat. “Why am I here, right? You know, you can just tell me to leave next time, it’d be a lot fuckin’ easier for you.”

“Katsuki—”

“No.” He grabs the strap of his duffel bag that carries his guantlets from where he’d dropped it by the door, throwing it over his shoulder as he bends down to lace his boots up again.

“Katsuki, that’s not what I meant.”

“Sure.”

“I was angry—”

“Clearly, you’re always fuckin’ angry at me. I’m always doin’ something the fuck wrong, aren’t I? Nothin’ I do is enough?”

Stop, stop, stop. His mind is screaming, begging him not to do this. To get out. To leave and fight that hideous part of him down until he’s far enough that you never, ever have to see it.

“Katsuki, don’t do this right now—”

“Do what?” His voice rises more than it should. Stop—stop now. But he can’t. The ugliest of him is already taking surface and showing his truest of colors. “What exactly am I supposed to say here, huh?” You flinch. He needs to fucking stop, but he doesn’t. “Because apparently, when I stay late to save people, I’m an asshole. When I’m home, I’m an asshole. I breathe, I’m an asshole. I exist, I’m an asshole.”

“That’s not—”

“So what’s the answer?” His laugh is bitter and so, so cold that he doesn’t recognize this version of himself. Not with you. He wants to stop desperately, but he can’t. Because Katsuki is an ugly, hideous, despicable person deep down. No amount of heroism on the surface can hide that part of him that’s on the inside, not from you. “Since you’ve got everything figured out, you tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”

“Katsuki, let’s just sit down and—”

He shakes his head. For a second, he wants it to hurt. He wants it to hurt for you. Stop, stop, stop— “Y’know what? I’m done.”

His hand closes around the doorknob, and your voice comes out shaky and panicked as you whisper, “Katsuki, please just sit down and—”

“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this shit anymore.”

Then he yanks the door open and walks right back out, slamming it hard enough behind him to rattle the picture frames on the wall.

────────────────────────

Katsuki is six when he first asks his father what the fuck the old man even sees in the hag that is his mother. He remembers the conversation vividly. 

“Dad, why did you marry Mom? She’s grumpy and old, and she yells all the time,” little Katsuki asks, crossing his tiny arms over his chest. “Why d’you even like her?”

Masaru nearly chokes on his tea. “Katsuki,” he coughs. “Your mother isn’t old. You shouldn’t say that—it’s rude.”

“But she is,” he huffs. “She smells like an old lady, too.”

“Well, if she’s old, then I’m even older,” Masaru points out, taking another sip. “So that can’t be a very good reason not to like her.”

“Well, she’s mean.”

“She’s not mean,” his father chuckles, thoroughly amused. 

No matter how many times he sees it, Katsuki doesn’t understand it—the way his father gets that dumb, starry-eyed look whenever Mitsuki comes up. She’s always in a bad mood, and if she isn’t, she’s probably due for one within the next thirty minutes. Why his father would choose to marry such a sour lady is completely beyond his six-year-old comprehension.

“She yelled at me this morning,” he sulks.

“You tried to use your explosions inside the house,” Masaru reminds him, leveling him with a pointed look. “We talked about that. Rules are rules for a reason, young man.”

Katsuki pouts harder. His father is supposed to take his side.

“But she still yelled. And it was mean,” he argues back stubbornly. Masaru only smiles into his tea, shaking his head with fond amusement. For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then Katsuki presses again, “So what do you even like about her?”

The question seems to catch Masaru off guard. He pauses, thinking. “Well,” he says slowly, “she’s funny.”

Katsuki blinks. His father cannot possibly be serious. “Mom?”

“Yes.”

“She’s funny?”

“Very.”

“No, she isn’t,” Katsuki says immediately, deeply offended by the blatant lie.

Masaru laughs, “She is.” Katsuki stares at him like he’s completely lost his mind. Masaru only smiles wider. “She’s honest, too. You always know what she’s thinking.”

“That’s because she says whatever she thinks.”

“Exactly.”

“And she says it loud.”

“That’s true.”

“She says it really loud, Dad.”

Masaru nods solemnly, sighing. “Also very true, son.”

“She should shut up,” Katsuki huffs. His father fixes him with a stern look at that, and he shrinks back just a little. 

“We do not say that about our mother, Katsuki.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but slumps deeper into his chair all the same. “Fine.”

“Your mother is wonderful,” his father says. “She works hard. She cares about people. She loves our family—she loves us. One day, you’ll see that. And when you do, I think you’ll appreciate her a lot more.”

Katsuki picks at the food on his plate, turning the words over in his head. 

His mother does love him—he knows that much, even if she is annoying. She remembers all the snacks he likes and somehow always comes home with them without him ever having to ask. Whenever he asks for money, she gives him more than he requested—even if it usually costs him an irritatingly painful pinch to the cheek. She wakes up early to bathe him despite complaining about losing sleep because he prefers morning baths to evening ones.

His mother loves him; he knows that to be true. But it’s only true because she is his mother, and he is her son. Mothers love their sons—it’s the rules. Why his father would willingly choose to love that woman remains completely incomprehensible, however, in his mind.

“Mom is super annoying,” he says bluntly.

Masaru’s smile softens. “I suppose sometimes she can be, yes.”

“See?” Katsuki perks up immediately, his entire face screaming, gotcha!

“But,” Masaru continues, “I’m sure I annoy her, too.”

Katsuki deflates on the spot. 

More than that, he simply cannot imagine such a thing being possible. His father is calm and nice and makes good food. Katsuki thinks lots of women would like his father—women who also would not find Masaru annoying. The only person allowed to find Masaru annoying is Katsuki himself, and that’s because his father makes rules that Katsuki has to follow. He thinks he’s earned that right.

His mother, however, has no such excuse.

“She gets annoyed with you?” he asks incredulously.

“Of course. Every day, I’m sure there’s something I do that annoys her at least a little.”

“Then why does she like you?”

Masaru thinks for a moment, carefully choosing his words, trying to explain this odd phenomenon that is love. “Because loving someone isn’t about finding a person who never annoys you,” he says finally. “It’s about finding someone who still sees your value even when you’re annoying. Someone who chooses you anyway. Does that make sense?”

His nose wrinkles immediately. “No.” His father stifles a chuckle when Katsuki adds, “That sounds dumb.”

“Maybe,” Masaru hums, eyeing him with bright, endeared eyes.

“I’m not gonna marry someone annoying when I’m all big. Because I’m smart!”

That earns him a full laugh from his father. It’s the kind of laugh that makes Masaru lean forward and wipe at the corner of his eye. In fact, he laughs so hard he nearly spills his tea. “You say that now,” his father says, setting his mug down, “but that’ll change. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“No, I won’t,” Katsuki grumbles. He doesn’t appreciate that he’s not being taken seriously.

“I think you will, son.”

“I definitely won’t.”

Masaru only smiles. He looks at Katsuki the way adults always do when they think he’s young and silly and doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And Katsuki hates that look. He’s smart—excellent, even. Just the other day, he caught his teacher’s mistake during subtraction when nobody else in his class noticed. At this rate, he’s well on his way to being smarter than most adults.

He absolutely knows what he’s talking about.

“Well, we’ll just have to see, Katsuki. If I’m right, you’ll take me out for ramen someday. Deal?”

“Fine,” Katsuki huffs, puffing out his chest confidently. “But you’ll never see that ramen.”

────────────────────────

Twenty years later, Katsuki sometimes wonders if he’s going to have to admit he was wrong and take the old man out for ramen after all.

You are, without question, the most annoying, irritating, vein-popping individual he has ever met. It’s like every decision you make is carefully calculated to inconvenience him specifically.

He has to keep an extra jacket in his car because you never check the weather before leaving the house. He has to double-check your grocery lists before you go shopping because if he doesn’t, you’ll somehow forget the one thing you actually need. He has to make sure you take your vitamins. Every night, he has to remind you to take your makeup off before bed because, apparently, that responsibility has become his problem—and if you wake up the next morning with mascara smeared under your eyes because you didn’t listen to him, then somehow you still find a way to blame him for not wiping it for you.

You are annoying. Every single fucking day, you annoy him. You annoyed him yesterday. You’ve annoyed him today. You’ll annoy him tomorrow. And he’ll tell you exactly that—he’ll call you a dumbass, and tell you to get your life together. Complain about the ridiculous thing you did this time, and accuse you of going out of your way to make his life harder on purpose. But after that, despite it all, he will still love you. 

Twenty years later, now that he’s older, Katsuki realizes he understands what his father meant. That loving someone doesn’t happen because they never annoyed him—loving someone happens because they annoyed him, and he still, despite that, sees nothing but the good.

He loves you. You are annoying and drive him up a wall, but Katsuki knows that you are good. The greatest good that there might ever be, and he might have just ruined it. He probably fucked it all up and lost all the good he had. All the good he’s ever wanted. All the good that he’s wanted to keep for the rest of his life and cherish.

The second the apartment door slams shut behind him, Katsuki regrets it. He regrets being the reason behind that look on your face. That brief flash of panic in your eyes right before he left. That way that your voice sounded when you said his name.

He can’t get it out of his head as he walks out of your building. “Fuck,” He runs a hand through his hair and keeps walking.

The only friends he’d willingly see right now are working, his parents are definitely sleeping (and would ask too many questions he doesn’t want to answer, even if they weren’t), and he is nowhere near calm enough to go back upstairs and just go home.

But his patrol route is still active. So instead of going home and into bed like a normal person who has morning patrol, Katsuki leaves his apartment building behind and heads toward work.

By the time he gets suited up again, it’s almost eleven. By the time it’s midnight, he’s still out. By the time it’s 1 AM, he should call it a night.

Instead, however, he keeps moving. One more block turns into one more street. Anything to keep himself from going home or thinking about the argument. About the way you looked at him. About the things he said. About the shit he ruined for sure.

His thoughts are loud enough in his head, turning him deaf to everything else. He misses things he normally wouldn’t—things like suspicious shadows and warning shouts from another hero.

By the time Katsuki realizes what’s happening for what it is, the villain goes down easily enough—too easily. He curses himself for being so naive, so rash. He’s been fighting as a pro for years. He was a war veteran before he was even a legal adult, for crying out loud. Still, despite all that, the second Katsuki realizes something is wrong, it’s already too late.

The construction site groans around him—metal screeches against metal, and his head snaps upward. All he sees is the upper half of the structure collapsing before he loses his balance and collapses with it. 

“Shit—”

The explosion leaves his palms a fraction of a second too late, and he doesn’t go propelling forward the way he’s supposed to. The half-built building comes down, and Katsuki goes down with it. 

Then everything goes dark.

────────────────────────

It’s 2 AM when you see it on the news. Kirishima sends you a text asking if you’d heard what happened, and by the time you’ve spammed him with messages asking what the hell he was even talking about, he’s gone silent. Something in your gut knows that he’s not answering because he’s too busy rescuing. Too busy being a hero.

Your heart tells you that the person he has to be a hero to tonight just so happens to be Katsuki.

The first report you see hits the news at 2:13 AM. The anchor’s voice is as smooth and polished as ever as she delivers the words that send your whole world crumbling around you. 

“We are receiving breaking reports of a major incident involving Pro Hero Dynamight.”

The footage that floods the screen makes you fall to your knees and muffle your sobs behind a shaky palm—collapsed concrete and emergency responders and heroes rushing in and out of the wreckage. The camera zooms toward the ruined construction site, and Katsuki’s body is nowhere to be seen on the screen. You don’t quite know if that’s a good thing or bad.

“Dynamight was reportedly responding to a villain incident when a structural collapse occurred. We are told he is trapped beneath the rubble. Emergency responders are currently on the scene, conducting rescue operations.”

At 2:37 AM, the hospital gives you a call as his emergency contact. You’re sick to your stomach, not sure how you’ll make the drive there when Kirishima finally texts you again.

Kiri <3: I already told his parents. They’re on their way so don’t worry about it Kiri <3: One of my sidekicks is outside your apartment. They’ll drive you down there Kiri <3: I still have to handle the aftermath and finish patrol so I won’t be there I’m sorry Kiri <3: Keep me updated?

You: Don’t apologize Kiri idk what I’d do without u You: Thank you and pls be safe You: I’ll lyk things as soon as I find out

Kiri <3: Take it easy okay? Kiri <3: He’s come back from worse. It’ll be alright

——

Kirishima’s sidekick gets you to the hospital efficiently, but you are still at your wits’ end by the time you can rush out of the passenger seat and bolt through the sliding doors.

Some part of you is grateful you didn’t have to drive here yourself because you know you would’ve sped dangerously over the limit, missed half the red lights, and probably would’ve gotten yourself pulled over. At the same time, you wish you could’ve been the one behind the wheel, just to get here faster.

“I’m here to see Kats—um, Dynamight,” you say in a rush. “Dynamight…I meant Dynamight.”

The woman at the front desk looks at you with a raised eyebrow, already typing away at her screen as she blandly says, “Valid ID, please.”

You curse under your breath, fumbling through your purse for your wallet, and then fumbling through your wallet for your ID like your hands suddenly don’t belong to your body anymore.

When you practically shove it toward her in your haste, she takes it too calmly for your racing heart and inspects it for a moment. Then looks at her screen. Then back to your ID. Then she types for what feels like an agonizing eternity before she finally hands the card back and says, “Fourth floor, room twelve. He’s stable, but he has some serious injuries that they’ll have to monitor and heal slowly due to his stamina—”

You’re already moving before she finishes. You’re bolting toward the elevators, heart slamming so hard it hurts. The ride up to the fourth floor is torturously slow. When you finally get out of the elevator, you’re halfway down the hallway before you even register the security guard stepping in front of you.

“ID.” Again. Of course. You suppose it is a good thing security is tight for the pro hero unit—even if it does add to your piling weight of anxiety. When you clumsily pull it yet again, he checks it for another cruelly long stretch of time, glancing between the card and the device in his hands before finally saying, “Go ahead.”

You’re already moving.

By the time you reach room twelve, your hands are shaking so badly you can barely hold yourself still. For a moment, you just stand there, frozen. Would Katsuki even want to see you? Is he fed up with you? Would you just make his already terrible night even worse?

You aren’t sure.

You don’t know why you’re in the predicament you’re in right now. You don’t know how you got here or why things escalated the way that they did. You don’t know what you do wrong to push his buttons the way you seem to, to upset him the way that he gets. You think you’re doing the right thing—that you’re doing what’s right for both of you—but somehow, you always seem to mess it up. Always seem to say the wrong thing. Always seem to ruin whatever good the two of you have managed to build between you.

But you love Katsuki, and if nothing else, you know that he loves you too, and you need to see him. So you force down the bile in your throat and push the door open. The first thing you notice when you see him is the bandages wrapped tightly around him. One arm heavily secured in a cast. Gauze lining his shoulder and collarbone that makes your stomach drop in a sick, immediate lurch. Machines hum quietly beside him, keeping track of his vitals.

You never see Katsuki hurt like this—he’s always been practically invincible when he’s on the field, always taking things down before they have a chance at even touching him. And then your brain, cruelly, supplies the thought: but he is not invincible. Not always.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, eyes already welling with tears.

He’s looking at you the second the door opens—but his tired eyes soften with relief, just a little, when they land on you. “You came,” he says, voice rough.

“Of course I came,” you say, sharper than you mean to. How could he think you wouldn’t? How far have you let things go that he could genuinely believe you wouldn’t show up for him? “What the hell happened?”

He sighs, almost embarrassed. “Just…work ‘n shit.”

You sniffle, and he lifts his good arm toward you. That’s all it takes. 

You’re at his side in an instant, squeezing into the small space beside him on the hospital bed and curling yourself against his chest. You’re careful not to disturb any of the machines surrounding him, but you can’t stop thinking about how wrong this feels. How you shouldn’t be the one being comforted right now. How he’s the one lying in a hospital bed, yet somehow he’s still the one rubbing your back and soothing your tears.

“I thought you were gonna die,” you sob. “I—I saw the rubble, and Kiri stopped texting back and...and I thought you got crushed.”

“M’not fuckin’ dying, babe,” he huffs, sounding mildly offended. “A stupid building isn’t killin’ me. That’s a dumbass way to go.”

“You don’t know that,” you shake your head. “You can’t promise that.”

“Listen—”

“And I was sitting there watching the news and thinking the last conversation I ever had with you was that stupid fight,” you continue, looking up at him with trembling lips.

His eyes soften. “I know, but—”

“And I don’t care about the argument anymore,” you say, your voice shaking harder now. “I don’t care about being right or winning or being apologized to first—I should’ve texted you, you’re right. You...you probably felt like I didn’t care, but I do. I care so much, and I love you more than anything.”

You take a breath that does absolutely nothing to steady you. Katsuki is trying to wipe your tears away with one weak arm.

“I love you too—”

“I just want you to talk to me,” you sob. “I know I’m annoying, and I nag and scold and get onto you all the time, and I’m trying not to do that as much—really, I am! But I just...I wish you’d tell me things, too. Y’know? I am the one person you’re supposed to do that with, Katsuki,” you add, your voice cracking all over again. “But sometimes, it feels like I’m the last person you want to do that with.”

His expression tightens. “That’s not—”

“And I want us to work because I’ve never liked someone so much—it stresses me out. Because I love you and I want this to work, and the thought of it not working makes me so anxious I wanna throw up, and...and you act like talking to me is harder than getting crushed under a fucking building—”

“Baby.” He squeezes your cheeks together and silences you as he pulls your face closer, pressing a kiss to your puckered lips. “You talk a lot, y’know that?”

You huff at him immediately, tears spilling down your cheeks even faster. “That is so rude, given the—”

“I’m sorry about the fight,” he interrupts. You pause, and he takes the opportunity to keep going, despite looking painfully uncomfortable the entire time. “And for...walkin’ out ‘n shit. That was fucked up. I don’t talk to you like I should. You’re right. S’weird for me, and I hate it sometimes. I don’t know how to just...say shit like you do. Okay?” He sighs. “But m’gonna try more because you’re right—I need to talk to you. But you gotta get outta your head so much—” He gives your forehead a small jab with his finger. You sniffle and swat his hand away with a watery scowl. It earns the faintest grin from him. “We’re gonna work,” he says. “’Cause we do. That’s all there is to it, okay?”

“But—”

“No buts,” he grumbles. “My ribs hurt. Jus’ let me be right.”

A watery laugh escapes you as you shake your head, cupping his bandaged face between your hands. “You’re really annoying sometimes, Katsuki.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “So are you. Still love you, though.”

“Me too,” you breathe, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “Love you so much.”

He pulls you back down against his chest again, rubbing your back as you listen to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You trace small patterns into his shirt. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. And things are okay—they are not beyond repairing. You’ll inevitably annoy him tomorrow, and he’ll annoy you the day after that, but you’ll still work. You will still find a way to keep things good the way they always are.

After a few quiet moments, he mumbles, “Hey.” When you look up, he says, “When m’all healed and shit, you gotta force me to go grab ramen with my old man. On me.”

────────────────────────

Katsuki waits almost a month after being discharged from the hospital before he finally makes the call. He’s been trying to stall it for as long as possible, but Katsuki, even at the tender age of six, has always been a man (or boy) of his word. He’s standing alone on the balcony outside his apartment with his phone pressed to his ear, wondering if it’s too late to hang up before the call goes through.

It rings twice. Then his father’s voice is as gentle and cheery as ever. “Katsuki!” Masaru answers immediately. “Hi, son!”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey.”

His father laughs. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I got discharged, didn’t I? S’been a whole month.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sounding just like your usual self,” his father says. Katsuki can hear the smile in his voice. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’.”

“Katsuki, you never call for just nothing.”

He groans, rubbing a hand over his face with a sigh—it’s now or never. He can’t keep stalling, and Katsuki is, and always has been, a man of his word. If he promised his father ramen over a stupid bet he made twenty years ago, then he’s going to get his father that ramen. Even if it kills his pride. Demolishes it, even.

“Listen, I was thinkin’...maybe we could grab food sometime.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Masaru hums. “Let me ask your mother when she’s free and—”

“Not the hag. S’just you,” he cuts in, rubbing at his temple.

“Oh?” Masaru sounds amused. “Well, okay. I suppose it’d be nice to spend some time as just father and son. What kind of food?”

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose. Just say it. Just fuckin’ say it, his mind urges. Just rip the bandage off and say it. Say it. Say the damn word—he grits his teeth and forces out, “Ramen.”

There’s a pause on the other end. The silence stretches on long enough that Katsuki’s eye twitches.

“Ramen, huh?” Masaru finally says, and the way he says it makes a vein all but pop in Katsuki's forehead.

“Old man,” he says warningly, “don’t push it—”

He’s cut off when Masaru starts laughing. “I was wondering when this day would come.”

“Hah? You really kept that shit in your head for twenty years?”

“Of course I did. It was one of my favorite conversations I’ve ever had with you.”

“Why? ‘Cause you love bein’ fuckin’ right all the time?” Katsuki grumbles.

His father’s voice softens as he says fondly, “No. I just wanted you to find someone who made you as happy as your mother makes me. That’s all I wanted, son—for you to understand what being happy is like.”

The conversation is getting oddly sentimental, taking a turn that makes his chest feel strange, and his heart feel far too fragile. He hasn’t felt like this since after the war, and he doesn’t intend to sit with it any longer. So he mutters, “I still think Mom’s annoying. She yelled at me last week, so she never fuckin’ changes.”

Masaru laughs again. “No, she doesn’t.” Then, after a moment, “So, how does Saturday sound for some ramen?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“Will my son be paying?”

Katsuki regrets this call more than anything when he says, “Yes. I’m fuckin’ paying.”

“You know, son,” Masaru murmurs, making Katsuki pause, “I’m glad you get it now. You’ve grown into a fine man.”

Katsuki swallows hard. He turns, eyeing you as you sleep soundly in your shared bed, hugging his pillow to make up for his absence. He can only hope that his father’s words are true—that he is a fine man to you, the way his father always has been to his mother. His eyes never leave your figure as he mutters, “Yeah, well…s’not like I had a bad example or somethin’.”

so anyway i had an argument with my bf the other day but he did not get into an accident and he did not get injured so dont worry. the argument was technically my fault, but im cute and he loves me so its okay <3

[bunnimiow]

Niki's lookbook! ✮⋆˙ 1- top | shorts | tights | shoes | bag* 2- top* | shorts | tights | boots* 3- top | skirt | tights | boots 4- set | shoes

i looove dressing her up so much, and i really liked the recent fits i made for her so i wanted to make a lookbook w links :D *=paid

[tina-sims]

[Fofo] 2026 Drop_002 ♪

DOWNLOAD (Patreon)

3 weeks early access

Public Release on Jun. 19, 2026

[deartokki]

♥︎ ⸝⸝ shoto's way of telling you he fancies you

over the last few weeks, you'd been getting a little gift on your desk table — a strawberry milk pack with a small packet of aporo choco. there hadn't ever been any note or any clue as to who it could be in your class & you'd really been trying to figure out who it could be!

at first, you'd thought it was tenya since he was very friendly with you. but when you asked him about it, he'd denied that it was him. and you got the same response from both eijiro & sero. they'd been the only three people you'd ever suspected & after a while, you had kind of given up. you still enjoyed the treat nonetheless though!

one day, you were walking back to the classroom during lunch break since you'd forgotten your phone & when you opened the door, you were met with an incredibly adorable sight — shoto was at your desk, placing that strawberry milk & aporo choco you'd been getting everyday the whole term.

when he heard the door open, he quickly turned his head around & seeing you standing there had his cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. he was frozen in place for a few seconds, just blinking at you like a deer in headlights.

then the second you took a step towards him, shoto fled the classroom in a rush. no words, not even a glance back at you. he just left! you weren't surprised at all, knowing how awkward he was . . and adorable too.

the next day, you'd come in much earlier than anyone else, holding a carton of strawberry milk & a muffin you had bought at your favourite bakery. you placed it on shoto's desk, a little sticky note stuck to the carton.

as your classmates began flooding in, your heart was hammering wildly against your chest. you were really nervous for what his response would be after reading your note — oh, you felt like your whole body was about to combust from the wait!

then just as the bell was about to ring, shoto walked in. swiftly scrambling towards his seat where he noticed what you'd left him. you looked back to see his reaction, biting your lip in anticipation & anxiety. you noticed that same shade of pink creep up on his face, very gently plucking the note of the carton & reading it intently.

his eyes flickered up & met your gaze. he could barely hold eye contact with you as he nodded his head which admittedly made your heart flutter & your mind to go all giddy. so all you could do was shoot him a sweet smile in return as aizawa walked in to start the class.

on the note you'd written him, it read . . shoto >_< thank u for all the drinks n chocolates you've given me, that's so sweet! so i wanna repay u by taking u out to lunch! what do u say ♡

[vidasimss]

90s Nursery Collection | vidasims P1

this set will be free for everyone on the 3rd of June

20 furniture items

functional :

• highchair : just so you are aware the feet of toddlers do clip a little with the foot rest but animations are perfect, otherwise I would've had to remove it.

• book storage : some both old and new 90s book covers, you are also able to place items in the front!

• play-mat : Its more of a quilt but functions as a play-mat for your infants! its super cute and has that heirloom, pass down look to it. ( requires storybook nursery )

• infant crib : a super cute crib with bumpers and even some fun patterns :)

• infant bassinet : this bassinet is functional for infants! something fun to have in you're living room for your sleepy baby's or even in the nursery, you can also place items underneath it too.

• changing table : matches the crib and also other objects and has lots of storage underneath! ( requires growing together )

• vintage Lamp : fully functional and comes in some super sweet swatches all with 2 different skin tones!

• rocking chair : fully functional and has matching ottoman to rest your feet! ( requires Nifty Knitting )

• ottoman : functional and you can sit on it!

• fun time blocks : complete retexture of EA's nesting blocks with some great colours and designs on them.

not functional :

• carseat

• mobile

• baby lotion

• baby powder

• diaper cream

• baby swing

• my first bear

• snuggle me bunny

• diaper box

• diaper basket

[bunnimiow]

love me some pretty middle-aged man

[maeveybelle]

Touch starved Shoto is so canon to me, I mean he’s been distant from his mom for so long and Enji didn’t even properly raise him so to me it makes sense if his partner’s touchy, it’s like an “awakening” to him

Memory

‧₊˚ ❄️ ‧₊𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🔥

summary: touch starved!shoto x clingy!reader, he learns to accept more forms of physical affection from reader

warning/s: implies sexual content, angst, mentions of abuse, hurt/comfort, fluff at end

w/c: 2.1k

‧₊˚ ❄️ ‧₊𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🔥

The relationship was still new — barely three months old — but it already felt like walking on thin ice for Shoto Todoroki.

You had started dating after months of dancing around each other. Class 2-A had watched with poorly hidden interest as the quiet, stoic boy slowly let you into his world. You were bright, easy with people, and so naturally affectionate that you didn’t even notice when your hand would find his arm, or when you’d lean into his side during movie nights, or brush invisible lint from his uniform.

Shoto noticed everything.

He noticed because no one had ever touched him like that. Not without calculation. Not without pain.

The first time it happened, you were walking back to the dorms after training. Your fingers brushed his hand, then slipped between his without hesitation. Shoto froze mid-step.

You glanced up at him, smiling. “Your hand’s cold. You okay?”

He nodded stiffly. “I’m fine.”

But inside, his mind was reeling. Your palm was warm. Soft. The casual way you held on, thumb absently stroking his knuckles, made something tight and uncomfortable twist in his chest. He didn’t pull away, but he stayed tense the entire walk.

You didn’t seem to notice.

It kept happening.

You’d rest your head on his shoulder during study sessions in the common room. When you laughed at something he said — which wasn’t often — your hand would land on his chest like it belonged there. During lunch, you’d reach over and fix his mismatched hair without thinking, fingers lingering just a second too long.

Each time, Shoto felt like he was short-circuiting.

He wanted it. God, he wanted it. The warmth of another person who wasn’t trying to mold him into something sharper. But every gentle touch dragged memories to the surface: Endeavor’s burning grip on his face, the cold indifference of his mother before she broke, the clinical way tutors and handlers had moved him through training like he was a weapon, not a boy.

He didn’t know how to tell you that.

So he endured it in silence, growing more distant with every affectionate gesture. He started sitting a little farther away. Answering your texts a little slower. When you reached for him, he’d sometimes flinch before catching himself.

You noticed that.

One evening, the dorm common room was mostly empty. You were curled up on the couch with him, legs tucked under you, watching a quiet documentary. Without thinking, you shifted closer and draped your arm across his stomach, cheek pressed to his shoulder.

Shoto went rigid.

You felt it immediately. “Shoto? You’re tense again.”

He stared straight ahead. “It’s nothing.”

You sat up slowly, studying his face. His heterochromatic eyes were distant, jaw tight. You reached up without thinking and cupped his left cheek — the scarred one — your thumb brushing gently over the rough skin.

He jerked back like you’d burned him.

The hurt that flashed across your face made his stomach drop.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, pulling your hand away. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No. It’s not you.” His voice was quiet, almost mechanical. “I’m… not used to this.”

You frowned, confused. “Used to what? Me touching you?”

He nodded once, barely.

The silence stretched. You looked down at your hands, suddenly aware of every time you’d reached for him over the past weeks. The way you’d play with his fingers, trace patterns on his back when you hugged him, rest your head in his lap during quiet moments. You hadn’t even realized how much you did it. It was just… natural. The way you showed you cared.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t know I was making you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not.” The words came out too fast. Shoto exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “It feels good. Too good. I don’t know what to do with it.”

You stayed quiet, letting him find the words.

“My father…” He swallowed hard. “Touch was never kind. It was control. Correction. Pain. Even when my mother tried, it was… distant. I learned early that hands usually meant hurt. I don’t know how to accept anything else.”

Your chest ached. You wanted so badly to reach for him again, but you kept your hands in your lap.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, softer this time. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

Shoto looked at you then, really looked. His eyes were glassy, conflicted. “I do want it,” he admitted, voice cracking just slightly. “That’s the problem. I want it so much it scares me.”

That night, you tried to give him space. You sat on the opposite end of the couch. You kept your hands to yourself. But the distance felt worse than the tension.

Shoto lasted twenty minutes before he moved.

He slid closer, hesitant, then carefully rested his head in your lap. The action was so uncharacteristically vulnerable that your breath caught.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, afraid to speak too loudly. Your hand hovered over his hair before you gently threaded your fingers through the soft strands. He shuddered at the contact but didn’t pull away.

Slowly, carefully, you stroked his hair. Traced the shell of his ear. Let your fingertips brush down the side of his neck. Every touch was feather-light, giving him time to adjust.

Shoto’s breathing grew deeper, uneven. His eyes closed.

“You’re warm,” he murmured after a long time.

You smiled sadly. “You’re always cold on the right side.”

He turned his face toward your stomach, hiding. “I don’t want to ruin this. You make me feel… human. I’ve never had that before.”

Tears stung your eyes. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “You’re not ruining anything. We’re figuring it out together.”

The tension broke two nights later.

You were in his dorm room, the door locked, lights dim. Shoto had been quieter than usual all day. When you sat on his bed, he came to you without prompting, kneeling between your legs on the floor.

“Can I try?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded.

He rested his head against your thigh first, breathing you in. Then, with careful hands, he reached up and touched your waist. The contact was tentative, like he expected you to disappear.

You ran your fingers through his hair again, slower this time. He sighed, melting into the touch. You kept going — gentle strokes down his neck, across his shoulders, tracing the line of his spine through his shirt.

Shoto made a small, broken sound in the back of his throat.

You pulled him up gently until he was sitting on the bed with you. Without a word, you straddled his lap, keeping your movements slow. Your hands framed his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered.

He leaned into your touch like a man starved. When you kissed him, it was soft — just lips pressing, lingering. His hands settled on your hips, gripping lightly, like he was afraid you’d vanish.

You kissed his scarred cheek. His jaw. The corner of his mouth. Each touch deliberate, full of care. Shoto trembled beneath you.

“I don’t deserve this,” he breathed against your neck.

“You do.” You slipped your hands under his shirt, palms flat against his back. His skin was a map of warmth and cold. You traced every scar you could reach, pouring affection into every inch. “You deserve to be touched like this. Gently. Like you matter.”

Shoto buried his face in your shoulder, arms wrapping around you tightly. You felt dampness against your shirt — quiet tears he’d never let anyone else see.

You held him closer, rocking slightly, hands never stopping their slow exploration. One hand slid up to cradle the back of his head, the other rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

The intimacy stayed soft. No rush. Just skin against skin, warm hands chasing away years of cold neglect. When he finally kissed you again, it was deeper, but still careful — like he was learning how to want without fear.

You stayed like that for a long time. Touching. Breathing. Healing.

Afterward, you lay tangled together on his narrow bed. Shoto’s head rested on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while your fingers played with his hair.

“I’m sorry I pulled away so much,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be. We’re still learning.” You kissed the top of his head. “I’ll keep touching you until you get sick of it.”

He huffed a small laugh — the closest thing to a real one you’d heard from him in weeks. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of it.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him tighter. “Good. Because I’m kind of clingy. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until you flinched.”

Shoto lifted his head, mismatched eyes serious. “Don’t stop. Please. Even when it’s hard for me… don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

He settled back down, pressing a shy kiss just above your heart. The touch-starved boy who had grown up in ice and fire was slowly learning what steady warmth felt like.

And you — with your unconscious affection and patient hands — were more than happy to teach him.

‧₊˚ ❄️ ‧₊𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🔥

A/N: this lowkey reminded me of that one TikTok vid of the girl wrapping her arms around herself and being "touch starved" and she starts crying... does anyone knows what I'm talking about??...I have so much screen time its insane

comments and likes are always appreciated!!

masterlist

[deartokki]

𓏲ּ𝄢 𓂃 𓈒 ˖ shoto's way of telling you he fancies you . .

over the last few weeks, you'd been getting a little gift on your desk table — a strawberry milk pack with a small packet of aporo choco. there hadn't ever been any note or any clue as to who it could be in your class & you'd really been trying to figure out who it could be!

at first, you'd thought it was tenya since he was very friendly with you. but when you asked him about it, he'd denied that it was him. and you got the same response from both eijiro & sero. they'd been the only three people you'd ever suspected & after a while, you had kind of given up. you still enjoyed the treat nonetheless though!

one day, you were walking back to the classroom during lunch break since you'd forgotten your phone & when you opened the door, you were met with an incredibly adorable sight — shoto was at your desk, placing that strawberry milk & aporo choco you'd been getting everyday the whole term.

when he heard the door open, he quickly turned his head around & seeing you standing there had his cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. he was frozen in place for a few seconds, just blinking at you like a deer in headlights.

then the second you took a step towards him, shoto fled the classroom in a rush. no words, not even a glance back at you. he just left! you weren't surprised at all, knowing how awkward he was . . and adorable too.

the next day, you'd come in much earlier than anyone else, holding a carton of strawberry milk & a muffin you had bought at your favourite bakery. you placed it on shoto's desk, a little sticky note stuck to the carton.

as your classmates began flooding in, your heart was hammering wildly against your chest. you were really nervous for what his response would be after reading your note — oh, you felt like your whole body was about to combust from the wait!

then just as the bell was about to ring, shoto walked in. swiftly scrambling towards his seat where he noticed what you'd left him. you looked back to see his reaction, biting your lip in anticipation & anxiety. you noticed that same shade of pink creep up on his face, very gently plucking the note of the carton & reading it intently.

his eyes flickered up & met your gaze. he could barely hold eye contact with you as he nodded his head which admittedly made your heart flutter & your mind to go all giddy. so all you could do was shoot him a sweet smile in return as aizawa walked in to start the class.

on the note you'd written him, it read . . shoto >_< thank u for all the drinks n chocolates you've given me, that's so sweet! so i wanna repay u by taking u out to lunch! what do u say ♡

[madamechrissy]

Masseuse! Gojo

Warnings - milf reader, fingering, squirting, oral (m receiving) spitting and kinda cute tbh hehe

Satoru Gojo is the top masseuse at this fine establishment - he's the best at giving his clients the happiest endings. Yet you are by far the most tense damn girl he's ever touched.

"Shit, you're all locked up," he mumbles, those long fingers gliding across your muscles, pressing into your skin with that jasmine scented oil. "You good, sweetheart?"

"Mmm, not really," you mumble, sucking in a breath when he starts pressing harder on your sore, aching muscles. "Ah! You're so rough!"

"Well normally I just finger girls, you actually need a damn massage," you snort and he chuckles a bit, pausing when you turn your head to look at him, pretty eyes all dilated.

You're so fucking pretty.

This elegant pretty that comes from being in your late twenties that is his weakness - Satoru is twenty three but he loves a thirty year old milf. He just can't help his tastes, really, especially when they blush all sweet like you.

He's no poor college student trying to make it, no - he's rich enough to buy this entire spa twenty times over. Satoru is here for the joy of it, carpal tunnel and all can't stop him from making sure he got these clients off. Nothing really is as fulfilling as watching a woman come apart under his long fingers.

Making them squirt is truly a fucking art form.

But he never has felt this much tension, he's having to put his actual skills to use for once - and honestly? Satoru was better at fingering than rubbing backs.

He tugs that tiny towel down, till it's barely covering your ass, thumbs gliding in on those cute dimples. He vividly pictures how pretty your hips would be in his big ass hands - breedable hips that are wreaking havoc on his brain.

He's usually pretty unaffected, used to this, but the way you arch and whine out fucks him up.

Satoru kneads those thumbs into your hips now, a couple stretch marks right on them making him throb - he's not kidding when he says he loves a milf. You're gasping out, little filthy sound ruining him, he can't help but raise a brow.

"Hmm, husband not doing it for you?"

"I'm separated now..." You mumble, peeking at that spot your wedding band left a line.

You're still technically 'married' to your shitty husband Naoya, who had always been terrible, but recently fucked someone right in your bed, and had the utter audacity to act offended when you left. So what better to cheer you up, then to have someone work all that frustration out?

"Bad split?"

"You could say that..." you can't stop arching up a more, he takes the hint and slides his hands up your ribcage, eliciting a soft little moan.

Fingers glide down the sides of your breasts, your cunt is dripping wet then - the very recent memory of your cheating husband washed away with every glide of long fingers on your skin.

"You like me touching right here, sweetheart?" He asks softly. you moan, nodding. "Then turn around for me."

You obey easily, blushing a bit, his hands brushing oil on your tits, making your lashes flutter shut, covering up just a bit.

"Don't, you're sexy.."

You blush even more if that were possible, breasts rising and falling as his huge hands knead that flesh, plucking at your nipples. Satoru moves to stand right over your head, the view of his cock tenting his pants fucking you up.

"You're getting the highest tip," he snorts at that.

"Oh?" He's gliding more oil across your tummy, leaning over to part your thighs and eye your slick pussy, hesitating just a bit - this is where he likes to let the clients guide him. "Put my hand where you want."

"Oh..." your heart hammers in your chest as you slip it down further, he lets out a soft little moan when his fingertips are right between your slit. "Mnh!"

"You don't need any oil there," he muses softly, teasing fingers slipping up your slit, making you jolt as they toy with your twitchy clit. Your hips arch as he teases your entrance, slick pouring from your little hole down his fingers. "So wet already, we just started the massage.... your little cunt is so needy."

All you manage is your eyes rolling back in your skull - your man just never made you cum, and your own fingers didn't feel close to as good as those five inch fingers did.

You swear they're bigger than your ex's cock.

Rough fingertips dip in your slick just to the first knuckle, slutty little moans escape your throat at it.

"Feel good?" He murmurs softly, one hand holds your thigh apart, the other swirls around your messy cunt and sliding in. "You're so tight here, too, I think need to loosen you up."

"Please," this slutty masseuse with pretty blue eyes pumps your pussy full - stretching you out with these sweet nurn6, that spongy spot he presses, making you gasp out, back arching off the little bed. "Mnh, there, there!"

"Shh, not too loud," he leans fully over you to press a kiss on your inner knee - that was not protocol, not when he couldn't stop thinking of drinking your pussy and breeding you. "Your cunt is already so loud."

You huff, earning another chuckle, when suddenly you can't help but tug at his zipper, sliding so your head dangles off the bed. He pauses, blushing and looking down at you, fingers sliding out.

"What are..." You look up all pretty with hearts in your eyes for him, biting your lip, thighs shaking.

"I really want your cock in my throat, I'll pay so much more," he almost laughs.

Paying him to suck his cock!?

"You sure, sweetheart? This is for you."

"I'll love it if you would like it," you turn around, on your elbows and knees, looking right up at him as he frees his cock. "Is this special treatment?"

"It is, can't say anyone's touched me," he mumbles, suddenly nervous, when you've got your mouth wrapping his cock, his head falls back, groan slipping from his throat as that tip grazes the roof of your mouth.

You didn't look the type to suck a dick down your throat like you have no gag reflex - but here you are, swallowing him like you can't get enough. Your oiled up ass is arched, Satoru reaches a long arm over you, one hand entangled in your hair, the other finding your hole and fucking his fingers in and out.

The loud sounds of your squelching pussy and his cock choking your slutty throat are loud, the stupid ass spa music falling on deaf ears as he thinks he's in love with your mouth.

"F-fuck you're... too good at..." He's never one to be at a loss for words, but with every glide of his pretty pink tip in your throat, you're swallowing impossibly more of him. "That's it - fuck, just like..."

Satoru bites down on his lower lip as he shoves the back of your head so he's choking you with his length, curling his fingers just right so you squirt right down him. Dripping in rivulets you're making the biggest mess, squishing sounds loud when he rushes his fingers side to side to make you squirt even more.

"Mmmph," tears streak down your eyes as you swallow Satoru's cock, thighs shaking on the leather bed, nails pressing into well muscled thighs. His grip on your head tightens as he bends over, fucking your throat even faster

"Want me to use your throat, cum deep inside it, huh sweetheart? Use your mouth like a pretty toy till all my cum makes you full?" Your answer is to desperately suck, two of his hands now on your head. Hips snapping, cock fucking in and out.

For a woman who had nothing but missionary and a little spit on your cunt as lube, you've never wanted to please like this. You want him to use yojr throat - fuck you would let him use every hole he wanted, looking up at him to see his flushed cheeks through your watering eyes.

"Mnh, m"gonna..." he cups your face to hold it in place, cock bottoming out so his drool soaked balls press on your chin. He pumps so much cum his knees are weak, he damn near has to cling to the bed as you keep sucking. "That thirsty? Gonna suck me dry..."

You keep sucking even as he is sensitive, Satoru pulls back and looks at the mess he's made of you, cum having slipped down your chin. He gathers it and slips it back between your lips.

"Open for me, pretty."

You eagerly listen- you, a soccer mom having this white haired masseuse spit in your open mouth in a filthy string. You eagerly swallow him up, earning him yanking you to your knees, kissing you right when the little timer goes off for his next client.

"Oh," you flush as you realize just how much you loved that, tying your robe hastily and almost bouncing at the door before he stops you.

"Hey," he tilts your chin up, pressing you against the door. "Can I see you again? Like... dinner or..."

"You want to go on a date? With me?"

"Nervous about a date but you just let me spit in your mouth?" he grins and you cover your face now.

"Oh god..."

"Pretty please?"

He is pretty sure he is in love when you give him your number and peck a kiss on his cheek.

and when he has to cancel his next client, it may or may not be because he's jerking his cock to the way your juices are still coating his fingers 💗

Heheh this was for my bb @cantarcantar

[p-urest]

[cremedolle]

currently wishing i had this ysl polka dot bag