Though he'll never say it to your face, he let's you get away with so much. Not because you're good at convincing him to go along with your shenanigans. But because he just can't say no to you.
If you decide that you're going climb on him— whether that be in the comfort of your own home or in broad daylight. Do it. He won't encourage you, but won't stop you either. Just be careful not slip. He'll catch you if you do, but he'd rather not risk your safety like that
If you decide that you randomly want a quick look at his muscles under his clothes— strip him. Sure, he may think you're weird, but he won't make any attempts to stop you either. If you try this in public though, that's a whole other story. Maybe. Play your cards right and you'll get your way.
On that note, if you choose to run your hands along his bumps and curves— he'd let you! He'd silently watch as you fawn over his sculpted physique — created through years of hard work. Assuming you decide to put your mouth on him, he won't object. There'll be a slight furrow of the brows, but nothing more.
Then, there are the times you bite him. He'll jolt, but then look at you with a look of bewilderment and/or nonchalance. What you get is entirely dependent on his mood that day. He'll ignore the sting, but will intead focus on how cute you look when you're pleasd.
If you must, you're allowed to cling to him all day. Sure, he'll huff and puff as he drags you from place to place, but he'll never tell you off for doing it. In fact, when it's the dead of night and your completely wrapped around him like a second blanket, he actually quite enjoys the extra weight. It reminds him that you're there — alive— and that you want him.
It doesn't matter what you do. He'll say nothing and just observe your odd behaviour. There will be no argument. There will be no fuss. And there will be minimal resistance to your antics. All you'll get is a quiet, loving gaze as you get up to your usual antics.
At the end of the day, sure, he thinks you're the strangest creature to have ever crawled out the crevices of the earth. But he likes you that way and is willing to indulge you in whatever your dearest heart so pleases! <3
Megumi Fushiguro, Sae Itoshi, Shoto Todoroki, Shouta Aizawa, Kiyotaka Ayanokoji, Blade, Dan Heng, Phainon, m!Rover, Levi Ackerman, Giyuu Tomioka, Izuru Kamakura, Kinich Malipo, Aki Hayakawa, Mash Burnedead, Saitama, Genos, Shishiba, Teru Minamoto, Tamsy Caines, Illumi Zoldyck, Loid Forger, Julius von Pallistan, Takashi Morinozuka, Natsuki Seba, (+your faves)
The.. lack of OPM fanfics is actually appalling. One would assume that this anime would be piling with fanfics, the men (and women) in this show are quite honestly (in my opinion) some of the most attractive/majestic anime characters I've come across. Their characters are intriguing too when you look into their lore. I am not seeing enough variety y'all... what are we doing, These beautiful ahh characters are literally being thrown your way. I should be seeing weekly updates. Why am i having to re-read fics...🗿
໒꒱ ₊˚ thinking about … genos, saitama, zombieman, garou.
GENOS
THE MONTH ,, let’s be real here, he has no primal desire to break you in half. he’ll serve you on his hands and feet, but the second you ask him for something more intimate, he starts rambling about his master’s sage words. he shouldn’t be “weak to women” during the month of november. all of that goes out the window; his self-control beginning to crumble the second you praise him for being such a dedicated student. and he is such a wonderful student, therefore, he must stay firm in his resolve, even if it’s at the expense of your pleasure. once his internal clock flicks from nov. to dec., he’s ready to make up for his horrible behavior and every bit of lost time.
SAITAMA
TWENTYFOUR DAYS ,, it had all started with his ninja-stalker, another ridiculous attempt to one-up his so-called rival. saitama, being the petty man he was, agreed, somehow convincing you along the way. by day seven, his willpower was already crumbling. “he won’t know…”’s whispered into your neck, all the while his hands palmed at your skin. you decided to have a little fun with him, given how underappreciated you felt in the relationship. but when the third week came, that’s when it started to hurt. both of you would have jumped each other's bones if not for his “friends” constantly dropping by uninvited. during those times, his hand would linger too high on your thigh, or he would rest his chest on your back while you cooked for the get-together. he finally snapped after a week of torture and your teasing clothes, kicking them all out with a slam of his door.
ZOMBIEMAN
TWO WEEKS ,, there were signs he wasn’t going to hold out from the start. those hooded eyes lingering on you through the cigarette smoke, or how he’d spread his legs out a little too comfortably when reading on the couch. even with his hints, he had been going strong, keeping himself busy with missions and piles of paperwork. but it got to a point, especially at night, when the minutes blurred to hours. glancing up from his files and seeing you eating the last of the ice cream from the carton, only to lick a melted cunk that scraped the side of your thumb all the while maintaining eye contact with the tv… fuck it. he had more important things to spend his energy on than no nut november.
GAROU
TWO DAYS ,, this man would nottt care about the challenge at all. he’d do it purely to entertain himself as long as it didn't affect his body… which wasn’t a long time. he almost broke on the first night, but the thought of you riving on some old couch with god knows what on it forced him to blue ball himself. you should truly be grateful he cared so much for you, not wanting to give you an infection and whatnot. so why not show him your appreciation? as long as you have funds for the hotel and sustaining him with food afterwards, he’ll make sure you know just how grateful you should be. but who says no nut november is over? all will be forgotten, and you can “restart” because it was just a “fluke”.
Hiii! If it’s not a problem can I request a headcanon of waking OPM characters with head? :)
Hiii!👋
Of course it's not a problem, thank you for the request! :)
Thirsty, aren't we?😉
(me too🤝)
If something is not right, please let me know, and I'll fix it. Have fun!💕
Waking them up with giving them a head
T/W: NSWF content! Minors, do NOT interact!!!🔞🔞🔞
(also me: *writes for Metal Bat*... but he's at least 17... right?)
A/N: that's my 100th post, wow!🤩 (remember me saying in the previous post that I'd be free from now on? Well, I guess I underestimated the upcoming wave of deadlines and the exhaustion as a consequence, sorry as always😅 BUT NOW I ACTUALLY WILL BE MORE FREE SINCE I'M ON SUMMER HOLIDAYS, YAAAAY😎)
(even Murata managed to upload new chapter meantime, lol)
Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs and following me! I really appreciate your feedback and support, guys!🥰🫶
You can check my main masterlist to see more of my other works.
Prepare for possible OOC!
Also be aware of implied fem!reader!
(Sorry if there are any mistakes!)
And, most importantly, enjoy!!!
You wake up only to see your boyfriend sleeping with his mouth agape and sprawled out on the bed/mattress (as always)
And as you lift yourself up from his chest, you feel a bump against your butt
Yes, it's Saitama's morning wood
A mischievous smile appears on your face as you lick your lower lip
Maybe there is something in the air today or feeling your man's hard cock between your ass cheeks made you horny immediately
In any case, your playful mood rises
And in the next moment, your hands swiftly slip off Saitama's pants and underwear, making his dick spring out freely
Finding yourself starting to drool, you decide not to waste time and begin kissing and licking the tip
You glance at your man who is still sleeping like nothing is going on
You continue your ministrations, gradually taking in more and more his length
Meanwhile, Saitama is sleeping soundly, rarely twitching his fingers and moving his head
So there is a reaction after all...
But not enough
Your moves get more intense
Soon, your boyfriend unconsciously starts buckling his hips, his tip goes deeper in your throat
And you can feel it pulsing, meaning the upcoming release
Just a little bit more, and you will send Saitama over the edge
But suddenly, he sits up, screaming "AHHHH! GET AWAY FROM ME, I WON'T LICK YOUR POPSICLE!!!"
You stop, staring at your boyfriend with a surprised look
He is perplexed, both trying to come back to reality and to process what is happening
"What the hell are you doing?" he asks after watching you with the half of his dick inside your mouth for some time
His voice doesn't sound irritated, it's filled with genuine confusion
You sit up, chuckling and wiping away your saliva
"I'm waking you up, hun."
Saitama silently hisses, feeling his tip exposed to coldness, and immediately wraps his fingers around it
Even though he furrows his brows because of this, his eyes are full of desperate need to finish what you started
Smirking, you return attention to your man's dick and proceed to suck him off
This makes him ejaculate in no time
Swallowing the sperm, you innocently smile at your boyfriend
"Good morning, 'Tama! Hope you slept well."
Saying that last night was intense is an understatement
You can already feel soreness in your body as you begin to wake up
Opening your eyes, you see your boyfriend sleeping next to you
This surprises you as Genos is always the last one to fall asleep and the first one to wake up
Or maybe you got up too early?
The sun, shining through the curtains, tells you otherwise
Anyway, the S-class hero deserves the rest
You start getting up from the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible not to wake him up
And as you do that, you notice that Genos didn't take his cock off
He has never forgotten about it before
Poor thing, he must have been really worn out then
You suddenly remember his words that Dr. Kuseno made his dick more sensitive and almost the same as human organ
Almost...
You realize that your man doesn't have morning wood
It's not like it's a bad thing or something else
But it makes you wonder how does your boyfriend gets hard
Does he do it telepathically? Or there are some buttons? Or..?
You decide to conduct a small experiment: tease Genos and see if his erection will appear
Your fingers playfully caress his abdomen, getting closer to his length and running along it
The cock gradually rises
Aha, so S-class hero doesn't control it
Feeling enthusiastic, you start kissing and licking the dick
You get so engaged in this that you basically start sucking your man off and don't notice him waking up
"Y/n?" a calm voice which you love so much is heard
You come back to reality and realize what you're doing now
Embarrassed, you move away from him and don't dare to look into his eyes, feeling how they already scan you
Silence
You want to explain yourself, but don't know how
As you're about to say something, Genos speaks first
"Princess, did I not satisfy you the other night? I apologize as I thought you had more than enough due to falling asleep rather quickly after multiple lovemaking sessions. Please, let me fix my mistake."
Embarrassed, you chuckle and explain everything
After that, cyborg calmly tells you that his strap-on is connected to his nervous system, meaning that it functions like an organ
But there is a nuance: it's connected to anything related to the sexual arousal
...Well, it's what you understand from the long speech, full of different terms that you heard of for the first time in your life
After you thank S-class hero, a silence between you falls again
You can't help but still feel embarrassed
Especially when your boyfriend is still hard, despite him looking unfazed
He follows your gaze down to... his cock
"I'm sorry, Y/n. I will remove my strap-on now since it makes you uncomfortable."
Huh?
You stop Genos before he could pull it off and ask him if you can continue what you started
He is a bit surprised at your request, but lets you do your thing
After all, your wish is his command
Even though he'd prefer to pleasure you instead
Your tongue and lips do wonders to him
They feel like heaven on hid cock
And some time later, he fills your mouth with his cum
You swallow it and want to get up to start the day
But strong arms pin you against the bed
"Thank you for the blowjob, princess. Now, let me return the favor, please."
You wake up, feeling like something is practically glued to you
Of course, it's your boyfriend who is snuggling against you like a koala
And meanwhile he cutely snuffles into your ears, his morning hardness perfectly brushes between your legs
What a contrast
As much as you’d like to keep laying in bed, you can't ignore the appearing wetness in your panties
What a sleeping teaser Sonic is
Two can play the game
You carefully untangle from the strong grip and replace yourself with a pillow
Your hands move down to his cock and softly stroke him, making your man jolt
But he doesn't wake up
...Yet
It's time to bring out the big guns
Your mouth, namely
Your lips wrap around ninja's dick and start sliding down it
Sonic starts slightly moaning and sulking while tossing around
You continue doing your thing
And soon, he opens his eyes and looks at you confused
"Y/nnie? What are you doi– Ah-h..."
Poor baby can't even finish the question as he tilts his head back, moaning and rolling his eyes
Grinning you let go of him, standing up
Your boyfriend looks at you like a kid whose favourite candy was taken away from him
"Hey there, hedgehog. I was just checking your ninja skills. It could be anyone else instead of me, you know. You should be more careful."
"Wha... wha... what..?"
You chuckle and decide to tease Sonic further
"Since I woke you up, I'll go to the kitchen now to start making breakfast now. See you there!"
Your man blinks for a few times
Then he looks at his hard member and returns his gaze to your retreating silhouette
"Wait! Don't leave me alone like this! Hey! Please, mommy! I need your help! Please, Y/nniiiiieeeeee!!!"
Aw, how can you say no to such a cute face?
For some reason, the view of your boyfriend's hard dick tightening his pants always makes you feel things
Oh, and how do you love stroking it...
And today's morning is no exception
The first thing you see is a huge bulge in Garou's boxers
You instantly smirk, knowing what to do
There is no chance in hell you will skip the opportunity to tease him
You wrap your fingers around the hardness and start stroking it, watching the man's reaction
But he continues sleeping
Seriously?
Maybe getting rid of the underwear will make the cock more sensitive?
You take off Garou's boxers and proceed to masturbate his now exposed dick
And again, no result
It looks like you gotta put your mouth into use
Not that you mind it though
You start sucking your boyfriend off, regularly stealing glances at him
As you could have already guessed, the view before you doesn't change
Feeling frustrated, you begin to move your head more actively, taking the cock deep in your throat
You start enjoying this so much that you forget about your man and your desperate attempt to tease him
You concentrate on the way his tip reaches your throat and how your tongue and lips brush against the flesh
Soon, your mouth gets filled with sperm, and you swallow it
Satisfied, you lift your head up... and meet a pair of pleased golden eyes
Garou looks at you with a rather smug smirk on his face
His hands are crossed behind his head as if he is enjoying some show on TV
...
This bastard was pretending to be asleep the whole time
"Good morning, sweetheart. Well, I don't know about you, but I had a wonderful start of the day... I could get used to waking up like that, you know."
Just don't be surprised to get up feeling how long fingers stretch out your pussy the next morning
A smile spreads across your face before you even open your eyes
It's because you can feel your man's arms wrapped around you and his hot breath against your neck
S-class hero finally gets a rest that he deserves so much after an exhausting week
Zenko is on her mini school trip, so it's just you and your boyfriend
Feeling a sudden wave of affection towards Badd, you face him and caress his cheek, peppering his face with kisses and simply admiring his beauty
In return, he hums in his sleep, pressing you closer against him... and his morning wood
A thought crosses your mind
It's late morning, so why not to give Metal Bat a pleasant awakening?
Grinning, you carefully escape from his grip and remove his pants and boxers
You spit on your fingers and grind his cock
Your boyfriend moans softly, but still doesn't wake up
You leave a trail of kisses along his length and peck his tip, making Badd slightly move and grab the sheets
Proceeding to the next step, you gradually take your man's dick in your mouth and start moving your head up and down
Young hero starts openly moaning, tightly gripping the sheets and tossing and turning
Soon, his tip starts pulsing and his moans get deeper
Metal Bat unconsciously buckles his hip, shoving his cock deep down your throat
Your movements become more intense, and your boyfriend cums not long after
He loudly moans and sits up, opening his eyes, while you get filled with his sperm
And stares at you confused as you turn your head to look at him, grinning after consuming his release
His eyes widen, a pure terror appears on his face
"Zenko!.. She didn't hear us, did she?!"
You chuckle and remind him that his sister is away
Badd exhales relieved
He processes what just happened and listens to you, saying that you wanted to give him a pleasant surprise
Unexpectedly, he covers your lips with his and leaves a trail of kisses down your wet pussy
Now it's time for him to show you his gratitude
Your sex life with Amai is full of different experiments and filled with passion
Mostly, it's Mask who thinks of something new or spices things up
Don't worry, you also take part in diversifying your fun in bed
And as for now, you're pulling your boyfriend's pajama and underwear off him meanwhile he sleeps soundly
Why?
Well... why not? ;)
You know how much Beaut loves it when you give him a head
So having you sucking off his dick must be a rather great start of the day for him, right?
Especially considering that both of you have a free day ahead
You start stroking your man's cock only to get no reaction from him
And even when you start pecking his tip, he continues to sleep
Without wasting time, your lips wrap around hardness and proceed to push it into your mouth with your tongue sliding along the flesh
You decided to have it little by little
And as you're about to move your head up, a hand stops you
"Come on, darling, we both know you can take much more than that."
Amai starts moving your head up and down with his hand
His dick goes deep down your throat as tears form in your eyes
Yeah, pop idol likes to be rough with you in bed
And you like it
Slurping, you continue sucking off your man
(or should I say getting your throat fucked?)
Some time later, he starts buckling his hips, making him go even deeper than before into you and practically stuffing your mouth with his balls
It means he's close now
A few more hard thrusts, and Sweet Mask fills your throat with his cum
You swallow it and receive a head pat as you get praised for performing a fantastic blowjob
And then Amai suddenly grabs you, pinning you on bed beneath him
You subconsciously press your wet pussy against his knee, which is already between your legs, wanting for more
Your boyfriend lowers his head and leaves a trail of kisses along your neck
As you arch your back to get closer to him, you feel him moving away and standing up from bed
"Let's brush our teeth first, and after that we can... return to our business."
...
What a teasing bastard
You wake up and notice that your man still sleeping
Now that's a rare sight since he almost always wakes up first
Usually, you either let him sleep... or mess with him
For example, draw him a mustache with toothpaste, wake him up by squeezing a lemon into his mouth or braid his hair
Or.... give him a head
Yes, that's what you're doing right now
Well, trying to do
Because as soon as your hands get on the waistband of his underwear, the ninja immediately opens his eyes and stops you
"What the hell are you trying to do?"
...Oops
How to explain this?
You try to reassure him that your intentions weren't bad and get a skeptical look from Flashy Flash
"Your so-called pranks usually leave me in disgust or you in disappointment. So stop whatever you were about to start."
He listens to your yapping about noble plans for god knows how long
(around five minutes)
Finally, he signs and reluctantly lets go of your hands
S-class hero can't help but feel intrigued by your bold advance on his morning wood
Usually, he is the one performing oral because, again, he feels uncomfortable at the thought of you having something shoved in your throat
So the blond is confused at your eagerness to suck him off and decides to enjoy the show
As you take him step by step, a huge wave of pleasure spreads across his body
He lets out a soft groan, tilting his head back and closing his eyes
His hand subconsciously moves to the back of your head and supports it, gently helping you
The deeper his dick goes down your throat, the closer he gets to his release
Ah, it feels so good
As for you, it's safe to stay you're fully engrossed in the process... and feel aroused as well
And your fingers that desperately rub your wet pussy don't help much
You increase your pace and start feeling your man's tip pulsing
(and the way your cunt throbs too)
Soon enough, Flashy Flash cums in your mouth, and you swallow everything without wasting a single drop
You both stare at each other with a heat in your eyes
This is not enough
Not even saying a word to each other, you both begin to move
Your ass faces the man as he lowers his head and lovingly flicks his tongue between your folds
The show must go on
Zombieman's groans mix with your slurping and muffed moans, filling the room
Your mouth gets ravished by your boyfriend's dick as he slams his balls against your lips with a loud smack
His tip harshly reaches your throat, brushing against your tonsils
A few drops of saliva run along your neck and splatter on your bare chest, joining the other ones
The man's moves quicken, signaling his upcoming release
Just a few more thrusts, and, and!..
You open your eyes
It was just a dream
What the hell
Thanks to such vivid vision in your head that you probably won't forget about for the day, you find yourself feeling thirsty
But not for the water
You look at your sleeping man who nuzzles against you
... and whose morning wood perfectly slides along your needy pussy
Being in a daze, you slightly grind your folds against his hardness
Ah, shouldn't have done that
Because your horny mood only rose
What to do?
You don't want to wake Zombieman up
Nor you want to help yourself in the bathroom
Because what you're really craving is filling your mouth with the hero's cock
Without realizing it, you move your hands to his boxers and slip them off, freeing his dick
In the heat of the moment, you start covering it with kisses and caressing it
Soon, you take it in your mouth, moaning in pleasure
Loud enough to wake your boyfriend up
He blinks, staring at you and trying to come to his senses
Maybe it's still a dream?
But it feels too real though
S-class hero pinches himself
Turns out, this is actually happening
You're sucking his cock
And when your tongue goes over that special spot, he lets out a deep groan, tilting his head back and closing eyes
He continues enjoying your mouth worshiping his length, telling how good it feels and brushing away strands of your hair (if there are any)
And do you know what can make this even better?
A morning cigarette
He reaches over to the nightstand and places a cigarette between his lips, igniting it
Zombieman takes a big drag and slowly exhales
Perfect, just perfect
(if you're uncomfortable with the smoke and smell, then he doesn't do it)
You begin gulping down more and more of his dick, feeling how your man unconsciously buckles his hips and how his tip pulses
And soon enough, he lets go
You swallow the sperm as he puts out a cigarette
"Dear, you're going to be the death of me one day, you know."
You just give him a mischievous smirk which makes him to grin in return
In the next moment, you're pushed to your back and your legs are spread open as two fingers enter your pussy
"Now, let me please you as well."
You and King sometimes like to watch porn and hentai together
Why?
Firstly, to get aroused (not that you both have problems with that, but it helps to settle the mood)
Secondly, you do it just for fun (there even were cases where you got into plot and watched only for it)
And thirdly, to get new ideas for sex or to understand how to do some poses
And one day, you get a glimpse of a video title where a girl wakes her boyfriend up with a blowjob
King doesn't notice it, but you decide to try out this when the opportunity arrives
Meaning, the next morning
When you free your boyfriend's cock, you start smoothly stroking it
King instantly moves his head, whimpering
But still doesn't wake up
You take the next step: pepper his hardness with kisses and lick it there and there
S-class hero starts moaning
And now it's time for the main "event"
You gradually take his dick and start sucking him
Man's moans get louder as you pick up the pace
His cock starts twitching rather quickly, signaling the building release
And as King is about to cum, he opens his eyes and sees your head between his legs
He doesn't even question what is going on because his mind is focused on reaching the peak
Just a little bit more, and some more, and–
"I'm coming!"
But he doesn't
You let go of him and look at his desperate face
Blue eyes are filled with pleading to finish what was started
But you don't give in so easily
"Mm? Why are you looking at me like this, baby?"
"I need... to cum..."
"And what does this have to do with me?"
"Please... finish..."
"Huh? I don't really understand. Speak louder."
"I... I... Please, finish what you started!"
"Eh? What exactly I started?"
"Giving me a head..."
"So you want me to suck you off?"
"Y-yes!"
"And what is the magic word?"
"Please! I'm begging!"
You chuckle
"Alright, since you ask so nicely."
You lower your head and proceed giving him a head
King is already tense and about to ejaculate
So one playful bite on his tip makes him go over the edge
He pants, looking at you swallowing his cum and then smirking
"Good morning, King! I hope you don't mind that I took an idea on how to wake you up from one adult vid."
You and your boyfriend walking down the street but a man in a black hoodie and pants walkes over then pulls out a knife from his pocket. "Give me your money!" He said pointing the knife at you both.
Saitama
Saitama looks at the man annoyed. "What are you doing?" Saitama said that the thug felt his entire body shaking with sweat going up to his face.
"Trying to rob my and my S/o?" He said then lift his hand. "Don't interfere with our shopping!" He said then hits the thug. Knocking him out.
Saitama looks at you. "You ok?" He asked looking bored but his tone was in concern. "I'm fine thank to you" you said then kissed his cheek.
He blushes red then scratched the back of his neck with a smile.
Genos
Genos narrowed his eyes. "You dare threatened my S/o in front of me!" He said then he grabbed the man by the collar. "You were mistaken" he said looking stoic.
His new updates as his arm shot out wires then tied the thug up then dragged him to a police officer to throw jail.
After he looks at you. "Are you alright? Were you scared? Do you need medical care? Are you hurt?" He questioned but you hold his hand.
"I'm ok Genos. Thank you for saving me" you said have him a kiss on his cheek. He was steaming as he walked with you.
Sonic
Sonic was in the shadows then saw you getting mugged. He throws his explosive shurikens at the man. Blew him up causing the thug to fall onto the ground.
Sonic dashed over to you with worry. "Did he hurt you? I'll kill him if he did" Sonic said clutching onto his small sword behind his back.
"I'm ok Sonic" you said reassuring him with a kind smile. He sighs in relief then hugged you. "Good. I'm staying by your side" he said walking with you.
Zombieman
Zombieman looks at the knife then at the thug like it was nothing. "Put it down" he said firmly as he puts you behind him. The man then stabbed him.
Zombieman was unfazed as he grabbed the man's hand then twist it. Pulling out the knife with his other hand as he turned the man around then pinned him down.
"You ok Sweetheart?" Zombieman asked you with concern. "I'm fine but you got hurt" you said worried. He chuckled as he moved his coat to see the wound was healed up.
"I'm fine S/o, I'll live" he said as the police takes the man away. You kissed Zombieman's cheek.
"Thank you, Zombieman for saving me" you said softly. He smiles then kisses your forehead.
King
King's heart started to rumble as it got louder and louder. The thug then noticed he was robbing the King and the roar of his King Engine.
The thug dropped his knife then got to the floor blowing with his head on the floor. Begging for forgiveness. "Please King! Im sorry, please forgive me!" The thug cried.
King stares at him with intense rumbling. "You should go to the police to be forgiven" Kind said in his deep voice.
He thug nods "I will!" He cried then ran to a police officer to go to jail. The people clapping but King ignoring them as he takes you around the corner.
He was breathing heavily. "That was close! Are you ok?" He asked still panicking. "I'm fine, King" you said.
You kissed his cheek to calm him down. He calms down then smiles as he holds your hand to go home to play games.
Metal Bat
Metal Bat puts you and Zenko behind him. You covered Zenko's eyes so she doesn't see what was going to happen.
Metal Bat then hits the knife out of the thug's hand then hits him on the head, knocking him out. Metal Bat huffed annoyed.
He turned around to you and Zenko. "Are you both ok?" He asked. You and Zenko nods "thank you big brother Badd" Zenko said.
"Thank you for saving us" You said then kissed his cheek making him turn bright red. "L... Let's go get... Uh... Ice cream. Yeah ice cream!" He said then takes Zenko's hand with you holding the other hand of Zenko's.
Garou
Garou grins then used his Fist of Water Flowing Crushing Rock to disarm the man then hit him in the face, chest, and groin.
"You are a dumbass if you think you can take me on and threatening my S/o" Garou said point his thumb at you. He takes your hand then walked past the thug.
"You alright babe?" He asked looking round for anymore danger. "I'm ok, thanks to you my big bad wolf" you said then kissed his lips.
He was stunned then grins with lust at you. "Well, let's go home and show me how grateful you are" he picked you up and over his shoulder.
side note; My… my hands… wont… stop typing… save me…. I’m gonna hibernate after this post
SAITAMA
Shockingly takes very good care of you
he’s a mundane guy that lives alone and needs to take care of himself, so I’d assume he’s gotten his fair share of sick days
He’ll be softer and more careful with his words
He lets you huddle up in his futon, even if he’s a little annoyed cuz now he needs to find somewhere else to sleep,
he still wants you to be close to him so he can look out for you
makes you lotssss of tea and warm meals
and bananas! (Saitama loves bananas)
he knows all the foods to avoid when you’re sick, ex: eggs
he’ll probably spend most of his day sitting next to you while he watches tv or talks to you about something
doesn’t leave the house to do any hero work so he can stay by your side
like I said before, he takes veryyy good care of you until you feel better
GENOS
oh gets really worried
a little bit frantic even, but he doesn’t let it show
does a shit ton of research about your illness/symptoms and how to take care of it
Consults dr kuseno
who of course gives him a lot of advice
he’s hella dotting
Like fr he doesn’t leave your side
despite being an S-class hero, unless its an absolute emergency, he DOES NOT LEAVE YOUR SIDE
Will make sure you take your medication exactly on time
Prepares gourmet type meals for you
Also expect a lot of broth, soup etc etc
Will offer you any form of physical affection you want. Since he’s a cyborg he doesn’t get sick, so will cuddle you all day without complaints if thats what you’d like
He’s constantly checking up on, his cool metal hand pressed gently on your forehead while his mechanic eyes inspect your frame, a small frown etched on his temple.
he’s so cute kms
SPEED OF SOUND SONIC
He knows how to take care of you
he’s gotten sick PLENTY of times, it never lasted long though because his immune system is simply goated
That being said, he’s very… awkward?
he’s concerned and worried, don’t get me wrong, but he’ll probably try to hide it
His words won’t reassure you much but his actions will!
He’ll drop off supplies like medication, food, herbs, or anything else you need, whether you mention it or he decides you need it anyway.
he’ll check up on you a lot, and he’ll try to stay nearby to make sure your safe
but honestly, you having to rely on him when you’re vulnerable makes him feel prideful
he doesn’t admit it, but he kind of likes having you sick, just a tinsy bit
FLASHY FLASH
Oh god
of course he’s terribly worried about you
very aloof about it though
I’ll start with the cons: He’s sort of emotionally distant, and offers very little emotional support, and he won’t try sticking by your side as often as the other characters
Now that that’s out of the way,
He does make sure you have everything you need, and if he’s not with you, probably because he’s doing some hero work, he’ll text you or call very occasionally to ask how you’re doing and if you need anything
If you do mention that you’re feeling worse, he’ll be right by your side in an instant
ZOMBIEMAN
He’s very down-to-earth and calm about it
He won’t fuss over it or worry too much in the slightest
He’ll take good care of you, bringing you meals in bed, drink lots of fluids and getting enough rest
he’ll focus on making you as comfortable as possible too
He’ll leave for hero work every once in awhile, thats unless you’re really sick, then he’ll stay rooted beside you without another word
He’ll spend a lot of time just sitting or laying next to you. If you’re uncomfortably hot and would probably not want him to sleep beside you, he’ll sit on a chair and quietly hold your hand.
If you want him to talk, he’ll talk, and if you don’t, he’ll sit wordlessly without complaints.
he’ll probably crack a joke here or there if the mood is too damp
also, he’ll offer lots of forehead kissess
GAROU
He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got the spirit! 😍😍
this lone wolf isn’t used to taking care of people, let alone himself
He’ll probably tell you to just walk it off, but his protective instincts will kick in anyway
he’ll try to stay by your side as much as possible
he’ll grumble and act like he’s annoyed, but he really isn’t
he’s a little harsh, probably giving you some weird motivation like “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” or smth
he’s genuinely concerned for you though, just be patient with him, he’s trying
(ФωФ): hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, reverse comfort.
all gn, except saitama, i didnt use any fem prns or nothing but theres mentions of reader wearing a bra and having breasts, soo..
saitama, genos, tatsumaki, metal bat, sonic, garou, fubuki
⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･
In the Quiet, You Hold Me
It was a quiet day.
A still, unmoving day.
The kind that Saitama usually didn’t mind.
No monsters were terrorizing the city. The world wasn’t falling apart. Genos was out running errands, and the Hero Association hadn’t contacted him for any low-level jobs in over a week.
So in that little apartment that was still too small for how much love filled it, the air was calm. No explosions, no emergency alerts. Just the hum of the fridge, the occasional passing car, and the sound of you flipping a page in the book you were reading.
Saitama was lying across the couch, his head comfortably nestled between your breasts. You’d long since stopped wearing a bra around him at home—it was one of those silent love languages between you. He liked the softness. The warmth. The steady beat of your heart. And you… well, you liked spoiling him.
He never asked for it out loud, but every time he sat down and glanced at your chest with that soft, subtle flick of his eyes—just once, never twice—you knew exactly what he wanted.
And you always gave it to him.
His face was buried slightly against your skin now, warm cheek resting against your bare cleavage as he laid there like a lazy cat. One of your hands combed gently through his scalp, dragging your nails across it with soft, rhythmic scratches. The other held your book steady, reading lazily while his breath fanned against your chest.
“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured.
Saitama hummed, almost inaudibly. But it was lacking something. The usual weight in his hum—the relaxed, content sound he made when he was completely at peace—wasn’t there.
You paused.
Your fingers moved slowly down to the side of his face, cupping it gently. He didn’t resist, but he didn’t lean into it like he usually did either. That made your stomach twist.
“Babe?” you asked softly, lowering your book.
His eyes were open, staring at nothing across the room.
“Mm,” he grunted.
“Something wrong?” you tilted your head, peering down at him.
He hesitated for a second. Just a second too long.
“No,” he said.
You frowned.
“Try again. This time without lying.”
He shut his eyes, sighed out through his nose, and let the silence settle again. That was the problem with him sometimes—he didn’t know how to talk. He could say the most off-handed things without realizing how much they weighed. And other times, when it really mattered, he got stuck.
You set your book down, both hands cradling his face now.
“You’re thinking a lot,” you said. “Too much. And not in your usual ‘What should I eat for lunch’ kind of way.”
He grunted again.
“C’mon. What’s going on in that shiny little head of yours?”
“…It’s nothing,” he muttered.
You gave him the look. He cracked one eye open, met your gaze, and immediately shut it again like a turtle retreating into its shell.
“…It’s really not a big deal,” he tried.
“That’s not what your face is saying.”
He was silent again. But this time, you could feel something shifting in his expression, something subtle and vulnerable. You could feel the tension in his jaw under your thumb.
“I don’t get you,” he finally muttered. “You know that?”
You blinked. “Me?”
“Yeah.”
He shifted just enough to tilt his face up at you, resting his chin now between your breasts instead of his cheek, and for once, his eyes were serious. Really serious. It almost caught you off guard.
“I’m… boring.”
You blinked again. Your lips parted, confused, waiting for more. He sat up slowly—not too far, but enough to leave the comfort of your chest—and stared at the floor.
“I’m not romantic. I’m not interesting. I’m not even cute.”
You stared at him.
“Saitama…”
He laughed once. Not bitter, not mocking. Just… hollow.
“I think about it a lot. How you could be with anyone. Anyone more exciting. Someone who knows how to flirt, or take you on real dates, or has more than three facial expressions.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and kept going.
“You could’ve fallen for a guy with a personality. Or a hobby that isn’t grocery sales. Someone who doesn’t kill monsters in one punch and come home with blood on their shoes. Hell, someone with hair.”
You felt your heart twist, the weight of his words sinking into your chest. This wasn’t something fleeting. These were thoughts that had been building. Heavy and festering, tucked away under his nonchalant tone and lazy smiles.
“You really think I care about any of that?” you whispered.
He looked away.
“That’s just it. I don’t know what you care about,” he mumbled. “I never asked. I just assumed one day you’d get tired of… this. Of me. And I guess I started wondering why you haven’t yet.”
Your eyes stung.
God, he was so stupid sometimes. Stupid in the most lovable, heartbreaking way.
You leaned in slowly, cupping his jaw and turning his face back to you.
“Saitama. Look at me.”
He did. Reluctantly, hesitantly. His eyes were uncertain, something aching sitting just beneath the surface.
“I love you,” you said plainly. Firmly. “Not because you’re romantic. Or interesting. Or even for your looks. I love you. The man who lets me hold him like a teddy bear on the couch. Who gets excited about discounted leeks. Who lets me see him like this—quiet, vulnerable, soft.”
His breath caught slightly.
“I love how your voice sounds when you’re half-asleep. I love how you get genuinely confused when someone compliments you. I love how you try to act like nothing matters, but the moment someone insults a friend, your fists are already clenched.”
You reached forward and pressed your forehead to his.
“I don’t want dates. I want you. I want lazy days and dumb jokes and holding you like this until the world disappears. I want to be here when you wake up, when you’re moody, when your hoodie smells like garlic and soap and I still pull you into bed anyway.”
His hands slowly reached up, settling against your waist like he was afraid to touch you. Like he was afraid he might lose you if he held too tight.
“…Really?” he asked softly.
You smiled. A small, watery one.
“Really. I’d scream it from the rooftops if you wanted.”
He snorted—finally—a real laugh this time, and you felt his grip tighten just a little.
“…Can you do something better?” he said.
You raised a brow. “Better?”
He leaned in closer, his face burying itself back between your breasts, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you gently into him like you were the last pillow in the universe.
“Just stay like this,” he mumbled. “Forever.”
You melted.
“I can do that.”
Your fingers resumed their soft combing through his scalp, your other hand rubbing gentle circles along his back. He was warm. So warm. Not in the heat-of-a-fire way, but in the way a bed feels after you’ve been snuggled in it for hours. Familiar. Safe.
“…Do you know what I think?” you whispered.
He mumbled something into your chest. You took that as a yes.
“I think you don’t realize how much you’ve saved me.”
He looked up slightly.
“I’ve had other relationships,” you said. “Ones where I was constantly trying to be enough. To do enough. Say the right things. Wear the right clothes. But with you? I can just be. And you never make me feel like I have to be anything else.”
He blinked at you, his eyes wide. He didn’t speak, so you cupped his cheek and leaned down until your lips brushed his.
“You’re more than enough, Saitama. I wouldn’t trade your one-punch ass for the world.”
He chuckled into the kiss, lips pressing against yours with a quiet desperation. Not heated. Not lustful. Just… needing.
When you pulled away, he sighed against your skin, forehead still pressed to your sternum.
“…What if I forget this tomorrow?” he mumbled. “What if I start doubting it again?”
You kissed the top of his head.
“Then I’ll tell you again. And again. Every time you need to hear it.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he shifted, turning to the side and pulling you with him until the both of you were lying on the couch, tangled together. His head was still resting between your chest, arms wrapped tight around your middle like you were the only anchor in a sea of doubt.
“…You’re warm,” he murmured.
You smiled against his crown.
“So are you.”
And in that moment, you didn’t need anything else.
No grand gestures. No romantic getaways. Just the feel of his weight against you, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, and the knowledge that no matter how many monsters he could punch away in one hit—this was the one thing he couldn’t destroy.
Your love for him. Constant. Steady.
And entirely his.
When Circuits Slow Down
The heater clicked softly in the background.
Your apartment smelled like clean laundry and warm tea, with a faint edge of metal and engine oil. It always did when Genos was around. That subtle, sharp scent of burnt circuitry and ozone—like he’d been pushing himself too hard again. Like he hadn’t powered down properly since his last mission. Like he couldn’t stop working, couldn’t stop trying.
He was seated on the edge of your bed now, legs spread slightly, posture perfect—always perfect, always stiff like he didn’t know how to relax in a space that was built to hold comfort. His hands rested on his thighs, metal fingers twitching once in a while. A nervous tic he didn’t even realize he had.
The TV played something faint in the living room. You’d left it on as background noise. Just voices, something human, something real to fill the silence he carried in with him.
You leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed lightly. Watching him.
He was looking down at the floor like it was going to give him answers.
“Genos.”
He didn’t lift his head. His voice was low, even. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” You took a step forward, then another. “I was waiting for you.”
Silence.
The kind that made your chest feel heavy.
You crossed the room slowly, dropping to your knees in front of him. His eyes lifted, finally—those glowing irises catching the low bedroom light. Even now, even like this, they were steady. Controlled. Every movement he made was deliberate. Calculated. He didn’t move an inch unless it was serving a purpose.
You reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away.
“Bad fight?” you asked.
He shook his head once. “It was routine. No casualties.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He hesitated.
You rubbed your thumb gently over the back of his hand, you’d learned a long time ago how to read his tells. He never really relaxed. But you could tell when he was close. When he let himself be vulnerable. When he needed you.
And right now, he needed you, he just didn’t know how to say it.
“…I saw a couple today,” he said quietly. “At the station. Before the mission.”
You waited, not interrupting.
“They were just… talking. She was laughing. Touching his arm. He was smiling at her like nothing else in the world existed.” His voice dropped, mechanical but somehow fragile. “And I realized I’ve never looked at you like that.”
That caught you off guard.
You blinked. “What?”
“I want to,” he said, a little too fast. “I want to give you those things. That kind of life. But I’m not—” His jaw clenched. “I’m not human.”
Your stomach sank.
You sat back on your heels, hand still holding his. “Genos…”
“I can’t give you warmth,” he said. “Or grow old with you. Or hold you with real arms. Or kiss you without you tasting metal. I can’t give you a family. Or safety. Or—” He shut his eyes. “I’m trying to be something better. I’m trying so hard. But I’ll never be enough for someone like you.”
Your heart squeezed.
It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this. But it was the first time he’d meant it like this.
So raw. So still. Like if you moved the wrong way, he’d shut down entirely.
You stood slowly, easing yourself into his lap, straddling his thighs with your hands resting on his shoulders. He stiffened out of habit but didn’t stop you.
“Genos,” you said softly. “Look at me.”
He did.
You cupped his face gently, his expression was blank, but you could feel the tension in him, the confusion. The pain of not knowing how to feel something and the fear that if he did, he might break apart.
“I don’t need a normal life,” you said. “I don’t need someone with a heartbeat or a future carved in stone or a perfect smile. I don’t even need to be looked at the way strangers do on TV.”
Your fingers traced along the side of his face. “I need you. The person who sits up with me when I can’t sleep. Who remembers exactly how I like my tea. Who keeps spare clothes in his chest compartment just because he knows I’m forgetful. The man who lets me hold his hand when he’s short-circuiting and lets me kiss him even when he’s terrified I’ll think he’s cold.”
His breath hitched.
You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re not broken, Genos. You’re trying. That means more to me than anything else ever could.”
His hands came up slowly, hesitantly, resting on your hips like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch you right now. Like he was afraid he’d ruin the moment just by existing in it.
“You could have anyone,” he whispered.
“I chose you.”
That made something inside him shift.
You felt his grip tighten, the lines in his shoulders ease just a little. You kissed the corner of his mouth, then leaned into his chest, letting your weight fall into him until he finally—finally—wrapped his arms around you.
You didn’t say anything for a while. Just sat there, breathing with him. Letting the quiet settle between you like a blanket.
After a while, he spoke again. Softer.
“I’m scared I won’t be enough.”
“You already are,” you murmured.
“And if I lose you—”
“You won’t.”
He pressed his forehead to your shoulder.
You held him tighter.
That night, you let him power down beside you for the first time in days. He laid still while you traced every plate of metal, every scarred seam, every line he didn’t see as beautiful.
You made tea.
You left the window open a crack so the cold air would make it easier to snuggle under blankets.
He laid beside you, quiet, stiff, uncertain.
And you reached for him.
Draped your arm across his waist, rested your cheek against the smooth plate of his chest.
“You know what I see when I look at you?” you asked softly.
He looked down at you, hesitant.
You smiled against his chest. “I see someone who makes me feel safe. Someone who tries. Who never gives up. Someone who holds my world together even when he thinks he’s falling apart.”
“…That doesn’t sound like me,” he whispered.
“It is.”
You pulled the blanket tighter.
“You just haven’t learned how to see yourself the way I do yet.”
Eventually, you both fell asleep like that.
You, breathing slow and steady against the cold metal of his frame.
And Genos, curled slightly around you, engines quiet, arms secure, systems dimmed low in the warmth of someone who saw him—and loved him anyway.
Gravity Doesn’t Hold Me Down, You Do
Tatsumaki wasn’t known for being gentle.
Or soft.
Or warm.
She was chaos in a small, compact frame. All power and sharp words, hair as wild as her temper, eyes glowing with authority. The world knew her as the Tornado of Terror, the psychic prodigy, the fearsome S-Class heroine who could rip apart entire cities with a thought if she was pushed far enough.
But you knew her differently.
Because behind closed doors—when the world stopped demanding her strength, when she didn’t have to pretend to be invincible—Tatsumaki could melt.
And she melted only for you.
It was a slow, lazy afternoon. Rain tapping lightly against the windows of your shared apartment. The city below was muted, bathed in grays and mist, and even the usual sirens and chaos of hero life felt distant.
Tatsumaki hovered mid-air lazily, sprawled belly-down just a few feet above your couch. Her tiny frame was wrapped in one of your oversized sweaters—green, of course. Her bare legs kicked aimlessly in the air as she watched the television screen with half-lidded eyes, arms folded beneath her chin. She was pretending not to be sleepy, but you knew better. That sweater had always made her drowsy.
“You’re gonna fall asleep midair again,” you teased gently from where you sat beside her, pulling a fuzzy blanket over your legs.
She gave a little huff and squinted at you over her shoulder. “Am not. I’m just… recharging.” Her voice was clipped but not cold, and you caught the way the corner of her mouth twitched upward.
“Mmhm. Last time you ‘recharged’ you nearly dropped into the ramen bowl.”
“Shut up,” she muttered, but she didn’t sound angry. In fact, she floated down until her head settled on your thigh, face half-buried into your lap, arms flopping limply. Her hair tickled your stomach, and her aura calmed until it was nearly imperceptible.
You didn’t say anything for a while, just ran your fingers through her wild, mint-green curls, letting the silence fill with softness. Tatsumaki let out a small sigh—so soft you almost missed it—and nuzzled closer to your warmth.
These moments were rare. The world expected her to be a weapon. Unshakable. Alone. She was told she didn’t need anyone, that attachments were weaknesses. She had told herself the same, once.
And then… you.
You, with your steady hands, warm smiles, and refusal to fear her. You, who looked at her not like a ticking bomb but like a woman who got tired sometimes. You, who never tried to fix her or push her. Who let her float when she needed to float and held her when she needed anchoring.
Still, even in moments like this, when she was quiet and open and practically purring into your lap, you could feel it—that little coil of tension beneath her skin. Something twisting. Something uncertain.
You traced a slow path down her spine, feeling the rigid set of her back despite her soft exterior. “Talk to me,” you murmured.
“I’m fine,” she said immediately, voice muffled by your sweater.
Liar.
“Okay,” you said, letting the word sit there. You didn’t push her. She hated that. But you kept petting her, slow and rhythmic, grounding.
“…You’re being weird today,” she mumbled after a while.
You raised a brow. “Weird how?”
“I dunno. You’re just… looking at me all soft.”
You smiled. “I always look at you soft.”
“Tch. Gross.” But her cheeks were tinged pink.
“Maybe I’m allowed to be a little gross with the person I love.”
There it was. The flicker. Her body went still for a heartbeat too long. You didn’t stop running your fingers through her hair. You didn’t press. But you saw her eyes flick to the TV, then to the wall, then finally down to her own fingers as they toyed with the hem of your sweater.
“…Hey,” she said eventually, voice quiet. “Do you… think I’m hard to love?”
Your heart stuttered.
You turned off the TV with the remote and looked down at her, but her eyes wouldn’t meet yours. “Tatsu…”
She shifted on your lap, voice tight. “I don’t mean just now. I mean… in general. Always. I know I’m short and loud and annoying and kind of a bitch—”
“You’re not—”
“—And I know I don’t act like other people do in relationships. I don’t say nice things all the time, I don’t really like touching people—except you—and I’ve done terrible stuff. I lose control. People hate me. I can feel it when they look at me. Like I’m just this… dangerous thing they’re forced to tolerate. Even other heroes treat me like I’m some weapon they can’t point the wrong way.”
She laughed, and it was hollow.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re just the only person dumb enough to think I’m worth it.”
The words hit like cold water, and your chest ached just hearing them. You moved gently, urging her to sit up, and to your surprise, she let you. You cradled her face in your hands, her cheeks warm and pink, eyes glassy but defiant.
“Tatsumaki,” you said, voice firm. “you are not hard to love. You are hard on yourself.”
Her eyes flickered, lips parting slightly. You pressed your forehead to hers, breathing her in.
“I love you when you’re loud. I love you when you’re quiet. I love you when you’re mad, when you’re smug, when you curl up in my sweaters like they’re your emotional support items. I love you when you’re throwing meteors at monsters and when you’re falling asleep on my lap. I love you.”
She blinked quickly, trying to disguise it as irritation, but you saw the wetness gathering at the corners of her eyes.
“You don’t have to act a certain way to deserve love, Tatsu. You are loveable. Exactly as you are.”
Her lower lip trembled, and for a terrifying second, you thought she was going to float away. But instead… she launched herself at you, burying her face into your chest and wrapping her arms around your waist like a vice.
“…I don’t want to lose this,” she whispered.
“You won’t.”
“I don’t know how to be… normal.”
“You don’t need to be.”
Silence. And then, muffled into your shoulder: “…You really love me?”
You smiled, wrapping your arms around her small frame, rocking gently. “More than anything, baby. You keep me grounded.”
Tatsumaki snorted, the tiniest of laughs bubbling up. “That was cheesy as hell.”
“And you loved it.”
“Shut up,” she whispered, clinging tighter. “…Don’t let me go.”
“Never,” you promised.
The rain kept falling, a soft lullaby for the two souls curled up together—one a storm of power barely contained, the other the eye of that storm.
And maybe Tatsumaki didn’t know how to say I love you in a thousand words. But she didn’t need to. Not when she said it in every act of trust, every moment she let herself be small, every time she let her guard down just for you.
Because some people love like sunshine.
Some love like spring rain.
But Tatsumaki?
She loved like a natural disaster—loud, wild, destructive—
And you loved her with the kind of quiet that could hold all that power and still never flinch.
And together, you made your own kind of calm.
Too Fast to Catch, Except By You
Speed-o’-Sound Sonic was a blur.
A name whispered like a warning.
A blur of purple, danger, and death.
The shinobi no one could touch, the assassin who turned battle into ballet, the rogue who could outpace anyone but his own thoughts.
He was known as a ghost in the wind. Elusive. Untouchable. Cold.
Except with you.
With you, Sonic wasn’t a storm. He was a still night. A silent snowfall. A breath between heartbeats. The fleeting softness he never let the world see.
Because you… you caught him.
And he let you.
It was the kind of night you could only get away from the city. Quiet. Crickets chirping lazily in the tall grass, moonlight bleeding silver across the forest floor. You sat outside the small cabin he’d whisked you away to for the week—hidden, safe, and far from the chaos of heroes, villains, and Saitama-related rage fits.
You wore one of his tops, perfect for sleeping in. Your legs were curled beneath you on the wooden porch, a cup of tea warming your hands as the breeze tugged gently at your hair.
Then—like always—he was suddenly there.
No sound. No footsteps. Just one moment empty air, and the next, Sonic crouched in front of you, sharp eyes scanning your face.
You didn’t flinch. You never did.
You simply smiled, soft and knowing. “Hey.”
He blinked once, twice. His expression didn’t change, but you saw it—the tiny, nearly imperceptible release of tension in his shoulders. The faintest shift from combat-mode to something… gentler.
“…Hi,” he said at last, his voice low, quiet.
You reached out, brushing a piece of windblown hair from his cheek. “Rough night?”
He didn’t answer at first. Just looked at you. That kind of long stare he only gave you when his head was full and his throat was heavy with unsaid things.
Then, without a word, he moved—and sat beside you, back against the porch railing, legs stretched out. His arm brushed yours. Close, but not clinging.
You waited. You always waited. And after a few minutes, he finally spoke.
“…Sometimes I think I’m a fool for this.”
Your heart gave a small jolt. “For what?”
“This,” he gestured vaguely toward you—your shared quiet, your closeness, the warmth of your hand near his. “You. Us.”
You turned to him fully, blinking. “Why?”
He didn’t look at you. His eyes were fixed somewhere deep in the trees. “Because it’s not what I’m built for. I’m a weapon. I was raised to kill. I sleep with a blade under my pillow. I’ve slit throats for less than the way you smile at me.”
You were silent. You knew better than to interrupt. Sonic didn’t open up easily. His heart was a trap-rigged room, and you were one of the few ever invited in.
“I’ve spent my life running. Fighting. Being feared. I don’t know how to be someone’s… person. Someone’s comfort. I don’t know how to stay.”
He swallowed. His voice lowered.
“And I think… one day, you’ll realize that. That I’m not normal. That I’m not good for you. That you deserve someone softer, safer.”
Now your hand reached for his. He flinched at first, always a little shocked by gentle contact, but let you lace your fingers through his.
“Do you want me to leave?” you asked softly.
His head snapped toward you, alarmed. “No—!”
“Then why are you trying to convince yourself I should?”
That shut him up.
You scooted closer, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “Sonic… loving you was never about finding someone normal. I don’t want soft and slow. I want you. All of you.”
His throat worked in a tight swallow, and his brows drew together like he couldn’t decide if this was comforting or dangerous.
“I know you’ve been through hell. I know you weren’t raised to be held. I know you see yourself as a weapon. But you are more than that. You are capable of love, of softness, of choosing something besides survival.”
You looked up at him, and he looked like he was about to crack wide open. Not with tears—he didn’t cry. But with ache. The kind that crept behind the ribs and sank its claws in.
“And I’m not scared of you,” you whispered. “Not your speed. Not your skills. Not your past. I’m not scared of the person you were, or the one you’re still becoming.”
You kissed his knuckles. He was stone-still.
“You don’t need to run anymore,” you whispered. “You’ve already made it home.”
And that—that was the breaking point.
Not a dramatic sob. Not a trembling gasp. Just Sonic slowly, cautiously, folding in on himself and letting his head rest against yours.
“…I don’t know how to be loved like this,” he murmured.
“You don’t have to know how,” you said, pulling him gently into your lap, your fingers carding through his dark hair. “You just have to let yourself be.”
He clung to you tighter than any blade.
Later that night, when the cabin was wrapped in darkness and your heartbeat was a lullaby in the silence, Sonic lay in bed with his head on your chest. Your fingers trailed lightly over his back, and he breathed—slow, even, like someone learning peace one inhale at a time.
You felt his lips brush your collarbone.
“…I’m still dangerous,” he whispered.
You smiled, kissed the top of his head. “Then be dangerous for me.”
And for once, Speed-o’-Sound Sonic—the untouchable, the lightning bolt, the living blade—didn’t run.
He stayed.
He chose to stay.
With you.
Even Monsters Need Love
Garou never really figured out how this happened.
Not the monster stuff—that part he knew. He had reasons, motives, a whole philosophy tattooed into the marrow of his bones. The world was rotten, heroes were glorified bullies, and he’d made it his personal mission to flip the damn system on its head. He was going to show the world what it really looked like when the "villain" won.
No, what he didn’t understand was you.
You, with your soft voice and stubborn patience. You, who somehow saw past the blood and the bounties and the entire list of Class S heroes who wanted to take his head off like a prize.
You, who fed him when he was starving, patched him up when he should’ve been dead, and told him—straight-faced and infuriatingly sincere—that he wasn’t a monster.
You’d stayed.
Even when he told you to leave.
That was months ago now.
Now you were living in some busted, half-forgotten hideout he’d fixed up with stolen supplies and calloused hands. The place looked like hell from the outside, and the inside wasn’t much better—except for the couch you insisted on cleaning, the half-functioning kitchen you somehow made magic in, and the pile of blankets on the mattress where you slept tangled up in each other every night.
It wasn’t romantic in the storybook sense.
Garou didn’t whisper poetry. He didn’t make grand gestures or write love letters or light candles for dinner. What he did do was pull you behind him when trouble showed up. What he did do was fight harder when he knew you were watching. What he did do was come home—bloodied, bruised, bone-tired—and collapse into your arms like you were the only safe place left in the world.
He never said “I love you.”
But he looked at you like the words were burning in his throat.
Tonight felt heavier than usual.
He hadn’t said much since he stumbled through the door, and that wasn’t too out of character—Garou didn’t talk much after fights—but this time was different. You could tell from the way he moved. Not just tired. Dragging.
His shoulders were hunched. His eyes weren’t focused. He dropped his jacket on the floor, didn’t bother with food or water, and slumped onto the couch without a word.
You approached slowly, carefully, like you would a wounded animal. Which, honestly, wasn’t far off.
“You’re back early,” you said, keeping your voice quiet.
He didn’t answer.
You sat down beside him, close but not touching, giving him space to come to you on his own. Sometimes he needed that. Sometimes he didn’t know how to ask for comfort.
Minutes passed like hours.
Finally, his voice cracked the silence.
“I got my ass handed to me.”
You blinked. “Garou…”
“Didn’t even stand a fuckin’ chance.” His voice was low, tight, almost hoarse. “Didn’t matter how fast I was, or how hard I hit. They wiped the floor with me.”
You reached out, brushing your fingers against his arm.
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “Not really. Just… bruised. But it’s not about that.”
You waited.
He exhaled—harsh, frustrated—and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands raking through his silver hair. He looked like he wanted to rip it out by the roots.
“Tell me something,” he muttered. “Why the fuck are you still here?”
That made you freeze.
“…What?”
He looked at you then—really looked. His eyes were tired. Raw. No bravado. No smirk. No sarcastic quip. Just Garou, stripped down to nothing but skin and scars.
“I keep coming back half-dead, covered in blood, talking about tearing down the whole goddamn world. I scare people. I scare myself sometimes. And you… you just keep being here.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and he clenched his fists, like he was trying to hold himself together.
“I don’t get it. I don’t deserve it. I’m not a hero. I’m not even a good person. I don’t do flowers, or dates, or soft bullshit. I’m angry all the time. I’ve killed things. People. You know that.”
You moved before he could spiral further, climbing into his lap and cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.
“You don’t scare me, Garou.”
His jaw clenched. “You should.”
“I don’t.”
“Why not?” he barked, voice rising. “You should! I’m the fuckin’ Human Monster! I’m—”
“You’re Garou.”
You didn’t yell. You didn’t match his volume. You just said it like it was the simplest truth in the world.
“You’re Garou. You’re stubborn, and reckless, and too proud for your own good. You don’t know how to sit still, and you punch holes in walls when you’re mad, and you act like you don’t care even when you care so damn much it eats you alive.”
Your voice softened, but your hands didn’t leave his face.
“And I love you for all of it. Not because you’re perfect. Not because you’re soft. But because you fight so hard to be something different, even when the world tells you you can’t.”
He stared at you like you’d cracked open his ribcage and were holding his heart in your palms.
“I love you when you win. I love you when you lose. I love you when you come home limping and pissed and bleeding, because you came home. Because you chose me. Again and again.”
Tears weren’t something Garou did. Not really.
But his throat bobbed like he was swallowing back something big and painful, and his hands gripped your waist like if he let go, he might fall apart.
“I’m not good at this,” he mumbled.
“You don’t have to be.”
“I don’t know how to be… enough.”
You leaned in, resting your forehead against his.
“You’re already more than enough. Just like this.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just breathed. Let it wash over him. And then, slowly, his arms slid around you, pulling you close, burying his face in your neck like he was hiding.
“…Stay with me.”
“Always.”
You didn’t move for a long time. You stayed there with him on the couch, the night stretching around you both like a blanket. Eventually, he started to talk—not about the fight, but about the thoughts that kept him up at night. The way he never felt like anything he did mattered. The way people looked at him like he was broken. The way he wanted to believe you, but didn’t know how.
And you listened.
You didn’t try to fix it. You didn’t tell him to stop feeling it. You just stayed. Held him through the worst of it. Let him fall apart in pieces instead of shattering alone.
And in that moment, he realized something.
You weren’t a weakness.
You weren’t a distraction.
You were the only thing in this whole shitty, bloodstained world that made him want to be something more.
Not a monster.
Not a hero.
Just… a man.
Your man.
And that, maybe, was the scariest thing of all.
But for once, it didn’t make him want to run.
It made him want to stay.
More Than a Pretty Face
People called her The Blizzard of Hell.
Sharp. Commanding. Beautiful in that untouchable, ice-queen way. Her reputation stormed ahead of her—calculated, driven, deadly.
And when you first met her, she was all those things.
Fubuki didn’t let people in. She didn’t need to. Not when she had psychic prowess, designer heels, and a perfectly tailored reputation.
But then you… happened.
You, with your warmth. Your laughter. Your stupid nicknames. The way you called her “pretty lady” drove her insane. Until it didn’t.
Until she found herself missing the sound of your voice when she went a day without hearing it. Until she started saving you the best parts of her favorite pastries. Until her team started whispering about how she actually smiled now and then.
And now, she was yours.
Fubuki—The Blizzard of Hell—was yours. Lip gloss kisses and all.
It was supposed to be a lazy evening. Just the two of you tangled up on her couch, some trashy drama show playing in the background, your head in her lap and her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm.
You were mid-sentence about something dumb—probably that actor you claimed was “definitely into older women and you could fix him”—when her touch faltered.
You blinked up at her. “What’s wrong?”
Fubuki hesitated, fingers frozen on your skin. Her eyes weren’t on you—they were distant, unfocused.
“…Do you ever feel like I’m just… a package?”
Your eyebrows drew together. “What?”
She swallowed. Her voice, when she spoke again, was quieter than you were used to. Like it was fighting past the steel-reinforced pride in her chest.
“I mean, like—just something nice to look at. Big boobs, pretty face, expensive clothes. Like that’s all people see when they look at me. When they talk to me. Even when they date me.”
Your heart twinged.
You sat up slowly, the show still playing forgotten behind you. “Fubuki…”
She turned her face away, eyes locked on some invisible thread of thought across the room. “Everyone treats me like I’m a prize. Like I’m just this image. If I’m not perfectly put together, I’m failing. If I’m not powerful enough, pretty enough, impressive enough, then I’m… disposable.”
Her lip trembled. Just barely.
“And sometimes I wonder if… even you will start to see me that way, too.”
And damn, didn’t that shatter you.
You reached for her hands—those perfectly manicured, strong hands—and held them between yours.
“Fubuki. Babe. My beautiful gorgeous little drama queen.”
That almost got a smile. Almost.
You leaned in, cupping her face gently. “You think I fell in love with you because of your looks? Your clothes? Your titties?”
She gave you a sharp look. “Don’t call them that when I’m being vulnerable.”
You laughed softly. “Okay, okay. I’m serious though.”
Your voice dropped, gentle but firm.
“I love you because you’re you. Because you fight like hell to protect people—even when they don’t say thank you. Because you pretend you’re fine when you’re not, and still find a way to win. Because you let your team believe you’re invincible so they can feel safe.”
You brushed your thumb along her cheek.
“And because when it’s just us, you let yourself rest. You let yourself be. You let me see the real you. The scared you. The messy you. The one who steals my hoodies and talks shit during movies and eats dessert first.”
Her lashes fluttered, tears trembling there but not falling.
“I don’t want the image of Fubuki. I want you. The woman who gets overwhelmed. Who doubts herself. Who cries sometimes, and still wakes up the next day in six-inch heels and runs a team of psychics like a goddess.”
You kissed her knuckles.
“I’m not going anywhere. Not for the glamour. Not for the boobs. Not even for the killer legs.”
She sniffed. “They are killer, though.”
You grinned. “Oh, absolutely. They’re criminal. But that’s just the icing. You? You’re the whole damn cake.”
That did it.
She finally smiled, watery and fierce and beautiful. And then, without warning, she leaned in and hugged you tight—arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder.
“I hate when you say corny stuff like that,” she muttered.
“I know,” you whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair. “But it makes you feel better.”
“…Yeah. It does.”
You held her close, running your fingers down her back, feeling the tension bleed out of her bit by bit.
Later, you’d help her take off her makeup—something she never let anyone do—and she’d lean into your hands like it was the first time in her life someone had ever touched her like she was soft instead of strong.
And as you climbed into bed together, her curled against your chest with her eyeliner faint on your pillow, she whispered:
“Thank you.”
You kissed her forehead.
“Always, baby.”
And if your hand drifted a little to those famous..assests while you cuddled?
Well. You were only human.
All This Steel, Still Soft for You
You’d seen him take down monsters the size of buildings with nothing but a metal bat and a whole lot of bad attitude.
You’d watched him charge headfirst into fights with blood in his mouth and a wild grin like he dared death to try him.
You’d seen the bruises. The limps. The bloody knuckles. The stubborn tilt of his chin as he spat red and swore he was fine.
But this—this right here?
This was the softest you’d ever seen Metal Bat.
Flat on his stomach on the couch, cheek squished against your thigh, hair sticking up in all directions, mumbling complaints while you gingerly dabbed antiseptic on a cut across his back.
“This stings worse than the fight,” he grunted, flinching slightly.
“Maybe if you dodged once in a while, you wouldn’t need me to patch you up every other day,” you said, voice teasing but gentle.
He glanced back at you with one eye, the red of it still a little bloodshot from the last punch he took. “Can’t dodge. That’d be like… insultin’ the guy. I gotta take it head-on, y’know? Respect.”
You gave him a look. “Respect doesn’t mean letting yourself get turned into street pizza, Badd.”
“Eh,” he grunted again, but there was a little smile tugging at his lips now.
You’d been dating Metal Bat for over a year. What started as flirty banter in a ramen shop turned into real dates, and those turned into slow mornings, dumb arguments over laundry, falling asleep with his arms around you and his snoring rattling your skull.
He was a lot. Loud, brash, bold. The kind of guy who punched first and didn’t even bother with questions later. Protective to a fault. Loyal beyond reason. And when he loved—god, did he love hard.
But tonight… something was off.
You noticed it after you finished patching him up. He didn’t bounce back like usual, didn’t sit up and demand snacks or tug you into his lap like a human teddy bear.
No. He just stayed there, head down, cheek still pressed against your leg. Quiet.
“…Badd?” you asked softly, brushing your fingers through his wild black hair. “You okay?”
He let out a long sigh through his nose.
“Do you ever think I’m not… enough for you?”
Your heart nearly stopped.
“What?”
He finally turned, sitting up slowly. His battered body creaked in protest, but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes—always full of fire—were dimmer now. Heavy.
“I mean…” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. “You’re this smart, sweet person. You’ve got your shit together. You don’t need someone who comes home covered in monster guts and smells like alleyway blood. You could have some doctor or a lawyer or—hell, a normal guy.”
You stared at him, stunned. “Badd, where is this coming from?”
He shrugged, eyes on the floor. “I dunno. Just… was watchin’ you clean up the apartment earlier. You’re always takin’ care of me. I don’t bring much to the table besides bein’ strong and, like, really good at swinging bats.”
You reached out and cupped his face before he could spiral deeper.
“Badd.”
He glanced at you.
“You bring everything to the table.”
He looked skeptical. You didn’t blame him. You knew how he saw himself—just muscle, temper, and instinct. A big brother first, a fighter second, and somewhere way down the list, a man worthy of love.
But you weren’t letting him believe that tonight.
“You think I care about some guy in a suit? I chose you. Loudmouth, reckless, headstrong, bat-swinging you. You know why?”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Because no one’s ever made me feel as safe as you do. No one’s ever fought for me the way you do. You show up. You listen—even if you suck at it sometimes. You protect what’s important. And you love with your whole damn chest, Badd.”
You brushed your thumb over the edge of a bruise on his cheekbone.
“You love me like I’m something worth protecting. And that means more to me than any calm, clean, normal guy ever could.”
He was quiet for a long time. His lips parted like he was gonna say something, but all that came out was a shaky breath.
Then he grabbed you.
Not roughly—not like his usual grab-you-and-toss-you-on-the-bed kind of hug. No, this was different. Slower. Almost hesitant. Like he was worried you might change your mind mid-squeeze.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down into your lap.
“Stay here tonight,” you whispered, knowing damn well he’d already planned to.
His arms tightened around you like steel beams.
“…I love ya,” he mumbled into your shoulder, voice rough.
“I love you too,” you said. “Even when you smell like monster guts.”
He snorted. “Hey, that’s my cologne.”
“Ew.”
“Limited edition.”
You giggled, and he nuzzled deeper into your neck, the kind of sigh falling from his lips that only came when he truly let himself relax.
Later, you’d fall asleep with him wrapped around you like a human furnace, his bat leaning against the nightstand, your fingers tangled in his messy hair. You’d wake up to him cooking the world’s ugliest pancakes and trying not to burn the apartment down.
But tonight, all that mattered was the weight of his heart finally resting in your hands. And you’d hold it like the precious thing it was.
