#chubby gender neutral reader

[okchijt]

Author's Note: Thank you so much Anon for the request! Sorry the request is a screenshot, I accidentally posted it cause of the stupid mobile update 😒 But anyway, this is such a cute idea! I'll be more than happy to do it for the little monster 😍 Just hope I didn't make him that OOC hopefully ^^' And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy! 🩷

His Little Stealer - Eric Cartman x Chubby!Reader Headcanons

🔴 The fact that you're close to his weight by being chubby makes Cartman unironically love you more. Being the only overweight kid who regularly gets picked on for it is still hurtful no matter how hard he tries to play it off or fight back. So having someone he can relate to with a similar body type is a plus in his book.

🔴 Also, just as Cartman always defends himself by saying: ''I'm not fat! I'm just big-boned!''. He would do the same thing for you and even throw hands if anyone ripped on you for being chubby. But to his surprise no one does so, why? Because you're an actual decent human being, others don't hate you and don't make fun of you. But if you act like Cartman then I take it all back.

🔴 But let's be real for a second, we all know Cartman sucks and he doesn't have the best track record when it comes to any relationship whatsoever. But as his partner I see him letting you get away with stuff he won't let others, and by that I mean everything. He'll let you do and say whatever you want and he'll bite down on his tongue just so that he doesn't accidentally say something wrong. Cartman is a horrible human being but for you? He'll try and become aware of how he should treat you right.

🔴 Back to the wholesome headcanons! I already said it, but I wanna add a little bit more to the idea. Cartman loves your chub, okay? He won't say it out loud ever though, not to you or in front of his ''friends'' cause he thinks it's embarrassing, but he'll make sure you know it with actions alone. Not only will he let you touch him without protesting, but he'll cuddle you too! You'll either be lying in bed together or on the couch with his arms wrapped around you as he grabs and fondles your excessive skin gently. It's just so soft and squishy, how can he not like it and hold it like his favorite plushy!? He'll act like he doesn't even know what you're talking about if you say anything about it, you'll know he loves doing it though cause he'll always be blushing red as he death glares the TV in embarrassment. One way to quickly gain back Cartman's attention though is by hand-feeding him Cheesy Poofs or anything really. His face will be redder than before and he still won't talk but he'll definitely pull you closer to him as he grumbles under his breath about how: ''weak'' this is. He actually means the opposite, trust me.

🔴 If you're someone that's insecure about their weight, Cartman totally gets it, he won't say it of course but he does. He'll make sure no one ever says a word about your weight by threatening them and depending on the person it might work. Of course no one regardless would ever say anything, but Cartman doesn't trust them so he still goes out of his way to do so. Also, if you decide to stop eating because of it, he will not let that slide one bit. He'll force you to eat himself and he won't take ''no'' for an answer unless you tell him that you're just dieting and being safe with it, then he'll begrudgingly respect it.

🔴 Now onto the stealing part, he both loves it and hates it. He thinks it's cute how his hat blocks all of your vision and his coat just kind of hangs on you, covering you entirely. It's almost enough to make him let out an audible ''awww'', almost. But at the same time, you're stealing his stuff! Now he's freezing his tits off as you embarrass him in front of his ''friends''! If you were anyone else he'd scream at you, but you're his partner so all he does is whine and cling to you as he tries to force you to give him his clothes back.

🔴 They ain't many opportunities for you to steal his hat and coat though, either grab it and run when he isn't wearing it or beg for it. You can only have an opportunity of stealing it when he's playing with his "friends" and he's being The Grand Wizard or The Coon. He'll immediately figure it out once he's done playing for the day and seeing his clothes go missing so prepare to witness an angry Cartman storming into your home demanding his stuff back only for you to make him stop in his tracks out of cuteness overload when seeing you wear his clothes.

🔴 Then there's begging, it can go either way actually. You can only win this by bribing him, doing something for him, getting him something he wants, or helping him accomplish something. Of course, knowing Cartman all of those things I've mentioned are 99% of the time requests to hurt the others around him and only satisfy him. Just because he loves you, doesn't mean he won't involve you in his schemes every now and then, it's like he wants to be partners in crime with you. Hoping that you're a decent person you obviously don't agree with any of it, so it leaves you no choice but to beg. Some puppy eyes with a promise of cuddling with snacks as you watch TV make him succumb almost instantly. He'll be all grumpy about it but he secretly loves it.

🔴 Overall, Cartman isn't vocal about how he feels about your weight in fear that he won't admit to that he'll accidentally hurt your feelings. Like I said he's trying to be better for you so he prefers to show how he feels with actions. He loves your body, he relates to you, and won't change a thing about you because you make him feel secure with his own weight despite what everybody else says. And again, with the stealing thing, it's a love-hate relationship for sure. Cartman doesn't like his stuff getting touched, let alone stolen so he does get annoyed at you for it, but then again it's you that does it so he can forgive it. Plus there's no denying he finds you absolutely adorable with his clothes on, the blush on his cheeks, the halt in his movement and the odd silence says it all!

[nanamis-princess]

I know I said I’d never write for Toji but I can’t get this out of my head

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Pulling you on top of him as he gets comfortable again, he’s half asleep. “Why’d you move?” He mumbles groggily. Settling against him as you place your head on his chest, after a moment you hear his heartbeat. Tilting his head a little to place a kiss on the top of yours. “Went to the bathroom” you say softly getting comfortable again. “Mhm” he hums pulling the cover over you both, his left arm lazily draping over your lower back while the other on your upper back.

Hours later after completing a mission toji turns in for the night in a nearby motel, by morning he’s taking the train back home to you. Glancing at the time, reading three am, he texts you one last time for the night “night love you”. Gently tossing his phone on the shitty nightstand before getting into bed, pulling the covers over himself. Toji finds himself laying there for twenty minutes before turning over to check the time again. Huffing a little, he turns back over while adjusting the flat pillow as he closes his eyes. Multiple sleeping positions and forty minutes later he sits up taking his shirt off thinking that’ll do the trick. Grabbing the other de-fluffed pillow he places it on his chest as he lays flat on his back. Slowly but surely he drifted to sleep getting four hours of sleep that night.

Standing in the doorway as you watch him walk up your front steps toji comes into view looking exhausted. “you look like shit” you comment teasingly but with slight concern. “Feel like it too” he huffs wrapping his arms around you, his face against the crook of your neck. Slowly rocking you both back into the house while still embracing each other, walking forward as you walk backwards into your home. The door closing behind him as he picks you up by the back of your legs, finding their way to wrap around his waist. “Shower then nap” toji mumbles into your neck before placing a soft kiss.

A/N: for those who summited requests don’t worry i see them! Requests will be closed for a bit.

[luviisabella]

“Bakugou Katsuki !”

You can’t help but giggle when you hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bed.

“Fuck what is it ?!”

His hair is a mess, his sweatpants were untied and fell a little loose showing off his Calvin Klein boxers (that he models for), and his shirt was also lifted a little with slight wrinkles, but nothing beat the expression on his face.

“You’re so cute.”

His body relaxes once he realizes you were just teasing him, he walks over to you before pressing his entire body weight against you.

“Kats’ !!” You can’t help but laugh as you try pushing him off. “You know you’re heavy !”

He ignores you, yawning into the bed so you decided to tug on his hair earning a soft groan from him.

He looks up at you in silence.

“You don’t like it hm?”

You watch him with curious eyes as he presses his face into your thighs causing you to flinch at the sudden contact of his teeth.

—

“Yeah but you do.”

[bunnis-monsters]

Late nights thoughts

Shy puppy hybrid that can’t help but hump your pillow and favorite stuffed animals when you’re gone. You’re so mean, leaving your needy pup all alone when he’s in rut.

Usually he’s a shy little thing, hiding behind you and yipping nervously when someone gets too close to you… but when you get home today, he’s on top of you instantly, using his taller stature and inhuman strength to keep you pinned to the floor as his fat red cock rubs against your hole.

“Left me all alone… missed you… w-wanna make puppies, wanna!”

He blubbered out apologies and needy whined as he fucked into you, melting into a puddle when he finally got to knot you and claim you as his mate.

Maybe your puppy wasn’t as shy as you thought… at least… not when he really wanted something.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

no one noticed.

no one noticed when isagi yoichi would always walk you home, no matter how cold it would be that day. you never realized that his house was actually in the completely opposite direction of yours.

no one noticed when bachira meguru kept the worn-out friendship bracelet that you made him years ago even though you weren’t friends anymore and that you barely even talked to him these days.

no one noticed when chigiri hyoma always left a hair tie in your locker because he knew that you always forgot to bring one and constantly needed it in gym class because of your long hair.

no one noticed when kunigami rensuke always thought about how beautiful you looked and complimented you in his mind every day during school when he sees you first thing in the morning.

no one noticed when barou shouei always picked you to be on his team in gym class because he didn’t want you to be on the losing side and knew that no one else would pick you to be on their team.

no one noticed when mikage reo would always leave expensive, long-lasting pens on your desk whenever your pen ran out of ink. he knew you hated writing notes in pencil, and he wanted you happy.

no one noticed when nagi seishiro would subconsciously think of you and your favorite things whenever he was at a store, and before he knew it, his whole apartment was full of your favorite things.

no one noticed when itoshi rin always asked the kind old lady at the ice cream store to keep your favorite type of ice cream in stock because you were always so happy whenever you ate it.

no one noticed when michael kaiser would always play with you and talk to you in the park when you were little. no matter how swollen or bruised he was, he always made time to talk to you.

no one noticed when he cried in the bathroom at your wedding.

no one noticed just how much he loved you.

[woodle-isbae]

"Sh-shitt..m'sorry!"

He was practically a mess , shaking beneath you as you sat on his lap , cock sitting snuggly inside you

He had his hands tied behind his back , which rested against the headboard of the bed,hair clung to his forehead , his face a deep red shade as he tried to catch his breath and stop his tears

"I'm not sure if you really are."

Playing mind games with him , he knew he didn't mean to entertain other girls , he was really clueless and thought she was just being kind?

Pathetic

"Pleasepleaseplease-fuck- I won't talk to her , I'll block her please!"

Oh that was music to your ears , kissing him all over his face , covering him in a dark red lipstick before taking his phone , snapping a few pics of him , eyes low and clouded as he made the effort to smile , before posting it on his story

Setting his phone aside , placing your hands on his shoulders and bouncing on him , trying to set a steady pace but you really wanted to cum aswell , just wanting to get to your high

Snap!

The sound of the cuffs breaking rung around the whole room before he set his rough hands on your hips , snapping his at a fast and violent pace to meet your,,weak,, thrusts

"M'Sorry-ah-i can't help myself-"

Mumbling apologies and praises in your ear as he held you closer , promising to make it up to you for this , the grip on your hips far too tight ,,, it's definitely bruising ,,, promising you everything that his fogged up brain can think of

Puffy lips kissing onto your neck , legs shaking as he was nearing his high ,,, both of you knowing it doesn't end there ,,, meanwhile you've already came , fucked out from his ruthless attack on your collarbone and poor pussy

It's gonna be a long night

Armin , Choso , Kirishima , Tamaki , Deku and chosen character

[glamourscat]

MAKEUP AND KISSES | Shidou Ryusei x reader

synopsis: shidou doing reader’s makeup | 657 words

cw: slightly suggestive towards the end, a reader who’s terrible at makeup

“Stop moving,” Shidou hummed, his voice low and filled with concentration.

You were sitting on your bed, straddling his lap, while he worked on your makeup. Never in your life had you seen him so focused. His tongue poked out slightly as he applied the eyeliner with the precision of someone who’d done this a thousand times. He was determined to get it perfect, especially since it had to match his own eyeliner.

The thing is, you were terrible at makeup. You tried, you really did. But no matter how hard you practiced, your skills were nowhere near his level. Your boyfriend seemed to have a natural talent for it—knowing exactly what shades to use, which brush worked best and how to make everything come together perfectly.

And no surprise there, considering he wears a killer eyeliner on a daily basis. One that stays up perfectly intact even after long hours of training or an intense 90-minute football game. Still, there was something so endearing about seeing him so happy and concentrated. Fully immersed in something so... domestic.

“I’m being still,” you huffed, keeping your eyes closed as he finished the wing on your left eye. “You’re just taking too long.”

“I’m not, you’re just impatient,” he scoffed, flicking your forehead with his finger gently. “Stop moving, or I’ll have to do it all over again. And we’re already 20 minutes late.”

“You said we weren’t late earlier,” you shot back in surprise opening your right eye. A tinge of annoyance in your tone for the little flick.

“Well, I lied,” Shidou grinned, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Let me finish my work. Eyes up.”

You opened your left eye too, meeting his gaze fully. The look in his eyes made it hard to stay irritated. You couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

“Karasu, Charles and the rest will be annoyed at us again for being late. I can already feel Karasu’s screams incoming. The air is vibrating, we should hurry up.” you say, trying to keep a straight face, not letting the laugh out.

“Nah, they can wait. I’m doing something more important right now,” he said, his grin widening as he adjusted the angle of your head to get a better view. “Besides, you think I’d miss a chance to make my pretty girl look even more stunning?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the warmth in your chest at the way he complimented you so casually.

“Okay, done,” he finally said, leaning back to admire his work. “Look at you. Damn, I outdid myself. Such a pretty doll.”

You look in the hand mirror, glancing at your reflection. Your eyeshadow was flawless, the eyeliner perfectly sharp. In a way, it was you, but you could barely recognise yourself for how subtly the changes were. You were truly glowing.

“You are really good at this,” you said, turning to him with a smile.

“I know.” He shrugged, smirking confidently. “I’m pretty talented. And now you’re gonna look even more amazing in that tight maxi skirt you have on.” He hummed, his hand instinctively going to squeeze your ass.

You rolled your eyes again, used to the gesture, but your lips found it impossible not to curl up in a resemblance of a smile. “Alright, cmon, let’s go before we’re even more late.”

Shidou’s smirk softened into a grin, his usual cocky demeanor still present but mixed with a hint of pride. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go. But don’t forget, this look’s all thanks to me. And—“ he added “it will look even prettier tonight all running down your face while w—“

“RYUSEI” you says, smacking now his ass in retaliation “Control yourself. I swear, you’re incorrigible.” You huffed. Although you were unable to hide the smirk from your face as the both of you headed out the door.

“Yes ma’am” he says amused grinning as he takes your hand dragging you along to meet the others.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

likes, reblogs and comments welcomed <3

[lonelierthanu]

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

imagine

word count: 405

warnings: none apply; fluff

Imagine it’s one o’clock in the morning, almost two, and you’re doom scrolling in your dark living room so you don’t disturb your sleeping boyfriend. Katsuki had gone to bed long ago; he has a routine. He goes to bed at 8pm every night so he can wake up at 5 am, get his day started with a morning run and then cook breakfast for the two of you. It’s so sweet and domestic and you have no idea how he does it.

You’re notoriously a night owl. Going to bed early is just something you simply can’t do for whatever reason. Katsuki knows this so he doesn’t force you to go to bed at his time as long as you come to bed eventually. That’s usually around eleven or twelve.

Tonight, though, you seem to have lost track of time looking at recipes you want Katsuki to make, DIY’s you probably will never do but find cool, and lots and lots of edits. It’s when you think to yourself, just one more, for the third time that you see it. A dark, ominous figure staring at you from your hallway.

A violent gasp rips through your chest at the sight.

“Why are you still awake?” You hear Katsuki’s deep sleep muddled voice growl at you. You gulp, you’re in trouble.

“I was gonna go to bed I swear,” your voice trembles. In barely any time at all, Katsuki makes his way to you and scoops you up. You squeal at the sudden movement. “K-Katsuki!” He doesn’t respond and with his long strides, makes it to your shared bedroom.

With one hand he flings back the covers on your side of the bed, and plops you down like a sack of potatoes. You blink, shocked by how fast he’s moving considering he just woke up. While you’re still reeling from the speed of his actions, Katsuki snatches your phone from your hand, places it on the charger on your nightstand. Then, lays down on top of you, you groan at the sudden weight, and then slides off of you to get to his side of the bed, bringing you in by the waist.

He brings the covers over the two of you, tucks his head under your chin, and snuggles his arms around you. Instantly relaxing. “Goodnight,” he mumbles against your chest. You just laugh at his antics and begin scratching at his scalp.

“Goodnight,”

(･ω<)☆

enjoy this lil blurb

[luvbabydoll]

soft target — john price

a/n: here is part one

the school’s quiet now.

the sun’s low, painting everything gold, and you’re locking your classroom door with tired hands and a cardigan pulled tight around your shoulders. the same sundress underneath, just a little more wrinkled now. your flats scuff softly on the pavement as you head toward the bus stop, bag slipping from your shoulder.

and then—

“bit late for the bus, isn’t it, love?”

you freeze.

he’s leaned against a dark car at the curb, sleeves still rolled, cap tilted back slightly. cigar in one hand, half-burned and glowing faint. he looks like he’s been there for a while. watching.

waiting.

you clear your throat. “i’m fine. it’s only a few minutes.”

he hums. takes a drag.

“not safe out here. bus stop’s full of pissheads after five.”

you blink. “i take it every day.”

he exhales smoke slowly, like the words amuse him.

“not dressed like that, you don’t.”

your fingers tighten on your cardigan.

“what’s that mean?”

he flicks the ash off the tip of the cigar, then gives you that slow, maddening once-over.

“floaty little thing like you? sweet voice, soft shoes, not a clue how many blokes’d follow you just to see where you get off.”

you shift on your feet.

“i manage just fine.”

“‘course you do, sweetheart,” he drawls, tone all condescension and heat. “still doesn’t mean you should be out here on your own.”

he nods at the car behind him.

“come on. i’ll drive you.”

you shake your head. “i don’t need—”

“wasn’t askin’.”

the words are quiet. firm. but not unkind. not really.

more like... decided.

you hesitate. bite your lip. you shouldn’t. god, you know you shouldn’t.

but then he opens the door for you, like he already knows you’ll say yes.

“it’s not charity, love,” he adds, almost mockingly. “just not lettin’ a pretty thing like you end up on the evening news.”

your heart hammers.

you get in.

the leather’s cool. smells faintly like him. like cigar smoke and expensive soap.

he walks around the front, slow and unbothered, flicks the cigar into the street with a practiced hand, then slides in beside you and starts the engine.

no music. no small talk at first. just the low purr of the car and the weight of his gaze at red lights.

until finally, he says it.

“didn’t peg you for the bus type.”

you glance at him. “i’m a teacher. not exactly glamorous.”

he scoffs. “could’ve fooled me.”

you blink.

“look like you belong in one of those soft little perfume ads,” he mutters. “all lips and lashes. s’no wonder your class won’t shut up.”

you don’t answer.

his fingers tap the wheel lazily. “bet they’ve all got crushes. boys like that—doesn’t take much. just a smile and a dress.”

“i don’t flirt with my students.”

he smirks.

“never said you did. just said you don’t have to.”

you look out the window. cheeks hot.

“you always talk to teachers like this?” you murmur.

he doesn’t hesitate.

“only the pretty ones.”

the drive is quiet again. only this time there’s music.

not loud—just a low hum from the speakers, something gritty and slow and old. a man’s voice, raspy, drawling about whiskey and war. you don’t recognise it, but you don’t ask either. you figure he already knows that.

he doesn’t look at you while it plays. just taps the wheel in time, lip twitching like he’s in on a joke you’re too young to get.

“not your kind of music, is it?” he says finally, eyes still on the road.

“no,” you admit softly.

he chuckles.

“didn’t think so. you’re more of a... sugar-pop sort, yeah? all pink headphones and love songs?”

you bristle, but only a little. “i listen to plenty of things.”

“mm,” he says, unconvinced. “you ever even heard of tom waits?”

“well… no.”

“figured,” he smirks.

by the time he pulls up outside your apartment, the sun’s almost gone. your building looks worse in this light—weathered and crooked, like it’s sighing from holding itself up.

he looks at it, then at your shoes.

“you live here?”

“...yeah.”

he lets out a breath through his nose. not rude—just surprised.

“jesus, sweetheart. i knew teachers weren’t paid well, but jesus lovie.”

you slide your bag onto your shoulder, already reaching for the handle.

“thanks for the ride.”

but he’s already out of the car.

before you can step out, he’s opening your door for you again—holding out a hand like you’re stepping onto a yacht and not cracked pavement.

you blink up at him.

“i can walk.”

“not in those dainty little things,” he mutters. “look at the state of this lot.”

and then—god—he lifts you.

just like that. arms around your thighs and back, bridal-style, all warm and solid and smug.

“john!” you squeak, clutching his shoulders.

“don’t fuss,” he says, carrying you like you weigh nothing. “not lettin’ you ruin those shoes on my watch.”

you want to argue. you really do.

but then you’re at your door and he doesn’t put you down. not right away.

“keys?” he asks, eyes flicking toward your purse.

you fumble, unlock it with shaking hands.

and instead of handing you over the threshold, like a normal person—

he steps inside.

like he’s invited.

like this is his now.

you’re still in his arms when he glances around.

“cozy,” he says again, same tone as in your classroom.

his voice is quieter here. thicker.

you try to wiggle down. he finally lets you go, setting you gently on the floor like a toy being placed back on the shelf.

you smooth your dress. try to fix your face.

“you didn’t have to come in.”

“wasn’t gonna leave you out there in the dark,” he shrugs, looking at your tiny kitchenette, the stack of books near the couch. “besides, didn’t get my proper tour earlier.”

you give him a look. “this isn’t a tour.”

“sure it is,” he says, moving to lean against your counter like he’s done it a hundred times. “i’ve seen your classroom. now i’m seein’ where you keep your soft little cardigans.”

you cross your arms.

“you’re very confident.”

he grins.

“and you’re very polite for someone lettin’ a stranger into her flat.”

you hesitate. “you’re not a stranger.”

“aren’t i?”

he steps a little closer. your back almost hits the wall.

you don’t answer.

he smiles, slow.

“you should eat somethin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

you blink.

“you don’t have to—”

“i know i don’t,” he cuts in gently, brushing a bit of lint from your sleeve like he’s done it before. “but i want to.”

“why?”

“dunno,” he shrugs. “maybe i like takin’ care of soft little things.”

[presentmacandcheese]

(softer than your) favorite t-shirt

plus size gn reader x jason todd

summary: reader is used to being too big for their partner's clothes. this concern arises in their relationship with jason too. luckily, he's got a solution.

or 4.2k of how i derailed from that plot to write a love letter to jason todd

a/n: first time writing DC, please be nice! Keep in mind this was written with WFA Jason in my brain. Also note that reader does not know about the vigilantism. With all that said, please enjoy!

also on my ao3!

The first night you ever spent at Jason’s apartment was lovely. Well. It was emotional, but it was lovely.

You’d been seeing each other for a few months, most always going out for meals and activities together or cuddled up in your apartment. It was nice enough, having him in your space, surrounded by your cozy blankets and soft atmosphere. It couldn’t be denied that he looked beautiful in the glow of the fairy lights you’d strung up, delicate in a way the harshness of Gotham rarely allowed him to be.

You’d gotten to fall in love over the gentle hum of your broken refrigerator and the finespun threads of your favorite blanket wrapped snuggly around you both. Your apartment felt intimate in relation to your connection, somewhere safe. for you to exist together, to learn each other, to love each other. Not that you’d said the words aloud yet.

Jason’s apartment felt... Unfamiliar. It was a place you’d yet to be invited, a hidden tomb where it felt like all his secrets had been buried.

It was clear he valued his privacy though, his space. You’d never wanted to rush him into having you over or step on his boundaries, being endlessly patient and understanding while also curious. There’s a lot to be learned about someone based on their home and you realized that was exactly why Jason had yet to show you. He wasn’t ready for the vulnerability.

Until he was.

You’d been out at a diner.

“No, you did not!” You laughed, picking a fry from your plate and popping it into your mouth.

“Swear it, I was a borderline magician back in my street days.” Jason smirked, shrugging as he leaned back on the booth, his elbows raising to rest on the seat’s back. It made his muscles flex, the outline of his arms drawing your attention.

You wanted to bite his bicep like an apple. He raised a smug brow at you.

You cleared your throat, eyes returning to his face. “I think they go by “pickpockets” based off what you’re describing.” Your teasing came out much breathier than intended, eyes trailing back to his arms and the confident posture. His strength was displayed so casually like this, the implication of raw power sending a tingle up your spine.

“You seem a little distracted there, sweetheart.”

“I have never been more focused.” Your eyes slowly followed the hem of his shirt bulging around his muscles as his arms remained propped up.

You could make out a few scars from here, a couple you knew the stories of and a few you didn’t but wanted to. You wanted to know the stories to all his scars, his memories, his life. You wanted to know him.

“That so?” He shifted positions, leaning over the table with his arms crossed now. You caught a whiff of him, musky and smoky with an almost hidden note of vanilla. The essence of mahogany surrounding every one of your senses. Like an old beloved book ready to be cherished after decades tucked away.

You reached out a hand for your milkshake, something to physically cool you down and make you relax before you jumped across the table at him or declared your love, probably both.

Your hand promptly landed in the milkshake, fingers now coated with the semi-frozen delicacy.

“Never been more focused.” You repeated, smiling stubbornly as you stared into his eyes, hand still nestled in ice cream.

His responding laugh was better than your favorite song.

It wasn’t much longer before you were back out on the street, fingers intertwined as you held hands and began to walk.

The night air was brisk, nipping at your nose and making you shiver as you leaned closer into Jason’s side.

“Let me give you my jacket.” Jason moved to let go of your hand and take his jacket off.

There it was, the ever chivalrous offer that made your stomach drop.

It was a sweet gesture, as it was each time he’d made it, but your heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of your throat.

“Oh, that’s okay! I’m just fine, baby! Thank you, though. Not that much further ‘til my apartment.” You smiled reassuringly, the fire pit of insecurity in your mind sparking up.

“I was uhh, actually thinking we’d go back to mine?” Jason suggested, rubbing at the back of his neck. It was a nervous tell, one you found hopelessly endearing.

“If you’re sure, I’d love to. Lead the way.” You squeezed his hand gently, leaning in so your arms pressed as you walked, ignoring the flames beginning to stoke.

Caught up in the task, your hesitance to wear his jacket fell aside.

Crossing the threshold into his apartment set you off-kilter, so many aspects of the new environment demanding your attention.

The living room seemed a hodge podge of bookshelves and simple furniture. The wooden coffee table had a slightly askew stack of coasters on it, one separated from the rest with a Wonder Woman mug on it that made you smile. Your smile growing wider as your eyes flicked to the couch and found a blanket you thought you’d lost.

“When’d you steal that? How didn’t I notice you leaving with an entire blanket?” You laughed, confused and impressed.

“Master magician remember?” He locked the front door, turning around to step up closely behind you and wrap his arms around your waist.

His hands settled on your stomach and some of the amusement died on your lips. You couldn’t let him linger like this too long, didn’t want this much attention on your belly or your body right now, not with the insecurities dancing around your mind.

“You can’t pickpocket a blanket, Jay.” You stepped out of his hold, taking one of his hands in yours and pulling him further into the apartment.

“You can’t.” He laughed, letting himself be dragged along as you toured his belongings.

The kitchen was lived in, well used and well loved. You could see signs of his time in there; dishes in the drying rack, water stains on the backsplash, a small scorch mark on the wall just behind the stove.

“Who tried to burn the place down?” You joked, leaning closer to look at it.

“I asked Dick to keep an eye on pasta for the one minute it took to go to the bathroom.” Jason shrugged, his tone holding the fond indignation that was always there when it came to his siblings.

“It’s a special skill how bad he seems in a kitchen.” You laughed.

“You have no idea.”

You wanted to though. Wanted to know Dick well enough to have your own stories of kitchen mayhem, wanted to know Tim and his dry wit that Jason continued to laugh about after the fact (not that he’d oft admit so), wanted to know the names of Damian’s animals and the reasoning behind his choosing of them. You wanted to know Bruce’s smile around his children, the exasperated wrinkle of his eyes and to know what Alfred’s famous cookies tasted like.

You wanted to know Jason’s family, the extension of the man you love that he’d worked to find his way back to, yet another aspect of his life you found yourself desperate to learn about.

There was so much about Jason your heart ached to know, as if your soul was begging to absorb his and become one.

Somehow standing in his apartment for the first time; feet on the tile of his kitchen floor and admiring a classy “no bitchin’ in the kitchen” fridge magnet, didn’t feel like the right time.

Instead you turned to offer him a smile, one that Jason could realize held far deeper emotion than either of you were willing to say quite yet.

He smiled back.

The candle on the bookcase. The shampoo in the bathroom. The matchbook on his nightstand. Only a handful of the items around his apartment that you noticed and inquired about.

Jason’s posture seemed to relax as he answered. The candle was a gift, the shampoo smelled of nostalgia, the matchbook from a hotel full of fond memories. Everything about him dripped ‘relief’ as he spoke, as though all he’d ever needed was your validation.

Standing among the belongings that bared his soul, it was all too easy to give.

Gently running your fingers along the spine of the book on his nightstand you sat down on his bed.

“You have a beautiful home, Jay.” Your tone achingly sincere.

He sat beside you, leaning his forehead into your shoulder.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t see his expression, but if you listened right you could hear the relief in his voice as the last of his worries were calmed.

Sincerity and affection flooded your veins, thrumming deep throughout your body. This man, this beautiful man had let you into his home. His soul. The trust needed for him to do so you knew was massive.

Instead of voicing the all encompassing emotions you felt and spooking him, you placed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Of course.” Like there’d ever been a doubt you’d love his home any less than you love him.

You’d sat snuggled together awhile longer, peacefully enjoying one another’s presence. Your hand found its way into Jason’s, a decision no longer conscious but a result of being magnetized to him. One day it switched from a decision to touch him to sheer instinct, a mindless need to be near him.

His head raised from your shoulder, your thumb stilling where it rubbed soothingly at his hand as you turned your gaze to give him full attention.

“I’m gonna get changed. Want to borrow some clothes?” He looked sleepy, voice just as calm and soft.

Your heart panged uncomfortably, the edge you’d been feeling when he offered his jacket returning.

“I’m okay, baby. Thank you.” Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes. Jason holds your gaze a beat longer than feels necessary before nodding and getting up.

Part of you wants to cry. Because you want. So badly you want to wear his clothes. Nothing sounds better than being wrapped in his favorite t-shirt, the well worn threads soft against your skin and his scent surrounding you, the safety of having him pressed to your skin from all angles. You want to be the cute partner who looks hot in their boyfriend’s sweats, the material falling low on your hips, enticing until he can’t keep his hands off you.

But you can’t.

Because Jason’s a smaller size than you.

Because his clothes would make you look like biscuits popping out of their tube.

Because there’s not an ounce of comfort to be found squeezed into an item you wouldn’t feel secure in. The constant worry of him deciding he wants someone smaller, someone more “delicate”, it’d loom over your every action, thought, breath.

So you can’t. For the sake of your mental health and your relationship you can’t and don’t want him to see you in that light. The light a majority of the world tends to see you in.

It crushes your soul to consistently turn down his offers. The gestures always thoughtful and kind. You can see that he wants to question it and it’s only a matter of time before he does, but for now he leaves you be. A gentle kiss pressed to your forehead as he walks away to change into pajamas, unknowingly leaving you to wallow in a wish you can’t be granted.

Sunlight peeking in through the blinds coaxes Jason awake in the morning, eyes cracking open to briefly check that all is calm and safe. The room is empty, no other sounds in the apartment beyond the faint hums of electricity and your steady breathing.

You.

Jason’s focus latches onto your sleeping form with the confirmation all is safe. You’re tucked into his arms, face nuzzled into his chest as you drool on him. He knows it embarrasses you when you wake up, but he finds himself endeared that you feel so comfortable, that your subconscious is able to rest that deeply around him.

He wishes it would translate to your conscious mind.

Jason has noticed your hesitance over the past weeks. When the relationship was new he thought possibly you were being some form of polite? But as time passed and your reluctance only grew he began to wonder if turning down his chivalry was a deeper problem.

He could see it in your eyes when you rejected his jacket on cold nights. The slight furrow in your brow when offered a change of clothes. It left a sinking feeling in his gut. Was it that you didn’t want to wear his clothes? Did you hate how he smelled? Jason tried to smell nice, a leftover paranoia from living on the streets when he so rarely had access to proper hygiene.

Or was it worse? Did you not want what wearing his jacket represented... Did you not want him? He’d yet to work the courage to ask, but each time it happened the fear rooted deeper within him.

A soft hum and the shuffle of sheets interrupted his spiral.

“Five more minu’es.” You mumbled, smothering your face further into him.

Jason laughs, the storm in his mind easier to weather under your adorability. “No one was waking you up.”

“Shhh, sleep time.” It comes out muffled, your hand lightly smacking against his face in an attempt to scold.

“How are you supposed to sleep if you’re talking to me?”

He swears he can feel your responding eye roll.

When you wake it’s to an empty bed, the sight makes you equally pouty at losing Jason’s warmth and impressed he managed to escape your koala-esque cuddles.

You lay back against the pillows, spreading out into a starfish as you stretch your limbs. You allow yourself one more moment in the comfort of Jason’s bed before standing up, casting a longing look as you make your way out of the bedroom.

Your senses, both sound and smell, lead you to the kitchen. You step closer watching Jason at the stove, he’s concentrated but at ease. His simple confidence and overall competence are wildly attractive.

“Good morning,” He looks over his shoulder, cocky, like he’s amused to catch you staring. He definitely is.

“Mornin’, handsome.” You approach him. “Am I okay to touch?” Your hands hover at your sides, itching to wrap around him and properly greet him.

You learned rather quickly that Jason isn’t always the biggest fan of touch first thing in the day. The nightmares that plague him occasionally leave him startled by ghosts you’ve yet to see.

You woke briefly earlier still in his arms so it’s likely fine, but you still prefer to check in.

“You’re okay. I’m okay.” There’s a sparkle of appreciation in his eyes as he leans in for a kiss, your arms wrapping around his waist and sinking into the affection.

You hum into the kiss, content filling your body as you stand with him.

“You should focus on breakfast, your kitchen doesn’t need any more scorch marks.” You tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jason reaches out and turns off the burner, removing the skillet from the source of heat before directing his full attention to you.

“Problem solved.”

Your laughter fills the kitchen for a moment, cut off by his lips meeting yours once more.

One make out session later okay, maybe it was two and a half, but who’s counting you sit down to your meal together.

Jason has a dining table. It’s clearly old, weathering the scuffs and damage from a family well-loved. The chairs are mismatched, not a set but each blending together to create a unique harmony.

“This is a cozy set up, very homey. Was it yours growing up?” Your eyes hold curiosity, patience. You don’t imagine Bruce Wayne would’ve had something like this in his mansion, but you can’t know certainly without asking.

“No. It’s what I wished I had, though.”

You continue to look at Jason, encouragement for him to continue written all over your face.

“Before being taken in by Bruce, I... didn’t have the best life. I used to imagine one day I would. I wanted a home. A place that felt like me, even when I wasn’t sure who I was. I’d spend hours thinking about what my dream home would look like, the furniture, the knick-knacks, the character of it all. Some of that dream died a long time ago, but... I always wanted a table like the ones I saw happy sitcom families sitting at. Someone to share that table with.” Jason looked down at the table, his fingers running over one of the small notches brought on by time, he seemed shy and wistful.

It made your eyes water.

“You are such a beautiful man, Jason Todd.” It slipped out reverently, a secret spoken from your soul.

Jason’s gaze met yours.

“Sweetheart, are you crying?” His voice was full of surprise and confusion.

“Almost. I can’t help it! I’m sitting next to the kindest soul I’ve ever encountered. That’s enough to make even Batman emotional I’m sure!” You missed the twitch in his eye at the mention of “Batman,” too busy wiping at your own.

Jason’s hand met yours, thumb soothing both you and himself with comforting swipes over your skin.

He was speechless, words unable to form as his heart sat in his throat.

You thought he was the kindest soul? That he was a beautiful man? He was choked up on how delicately you saw him. No one had ever seen him like this, maybe they’d gotten close before, but since he died? Not a chance.

He was used to being perceived brashly, harshly, dangerously. Watched, but rarely seen. Somehow always too much, yet never enough. Constantly chasing the flashes of normalcy he was treated with in an attempt to feel whole again.

But then there was you.

You, who held him through the nights and checked on him in the mornings (patrol permitting.)

You, who laughed and teased and made him smile like he hadn’t in years.

You, who saw a sweet but suffering soul and cupped it in your hands as gently as a wounded bird.

You, who picked up a long wounded Robin and truly saw him.

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing softly and looking into your eyes.

He may not have the words to say it yet, but Jason knew his actions would speak the truth of his love as loudly as he felt it.

Shortly after cleaning up breakfast, you sighed.

“I should probably get going soon. I’m starting to feel icky in this outfit.” You’d been feeling gross in it for awhile, but voicing it was bound to bring up--

“You want to borrow something and stay longer? I’m not sure I’m ready to give you up yet.” His playful tone and charming smirk made your heart preemptively break, knowing you’d be dampening it with your next words.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. After his vulnerability of letting you into his safe space and sharing himself with you, you felt the least you could do was offer your own vulnerability.

“Jay, I can’t. I can’t borrow your clothes.” His crestfallen expression gave you pause. It was all the opening Jason needed.

“Do you not, um, want to?” His eyes trailed away from you, insecurity clear in his tone.

“I want to, gods I want to so badly you don’t even know.” You stepped closer, putting a hand on his arm, sensing he needed touch to ground him in this moment.

“Then why?”

“Because I’m fat, Jay. I’m not going to fit into your clothes and I don’t want you to see that struggle. I don’t want to feel that struggle and feel like my body, like I’m not good enough for you. I know it probably sounds stupid, but I don’t want me failing to fit into your clothes to change the way you see me.”

You focused on the floor, wiggling your toes in your socks and locking in on the sensation. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, not when your anxiety was trying to convince you that you were about to lose him.

“Hey.” A firm, but gentle hand had your head tilting back up to meet his gaze. “Your size will never change the way I see you. The way I feel about you. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this insecurity. Does it come up every time I offer my clothes?”

You hazard a nod, trying to take his kind validation at face value.

“No wonder you like to change the subject when that happens. That’s a shitty way to feel.” His hand cups your cheek, concern swimming in his eyes.

“Thank you. For telling me.” The appreciation in his voice lifts most of the weight off your shoulders.

“Sorry I kept turning down your chivalry.” The attempted levity falls flat with the shake in your voice.

“I’m just glad it’s not for the reason I thought.” He pulls you into a hug, cradling the back of your head with his hand.

“What was the reason you thought?”

“That maybe I smell bad. Or that you didn’t want to be representing me like that because you were ashamed of me or something.”

The speed in which you raise your head to look at him knocks his hand away.

“What? Jason, I could never be ashamed of you. You’re the best thing in my life. I am so proud to call you mine and if I could fit into them I’d have pickpocketed all of your hoodies by now.”

Jason laughs at the inside joke, but it’s easy to see how serious you are. As he pulls you back into his chest, a simple solution comes to mind.

You walk through Jason’s front door, pulling off your jacket as you enter and toeing off your shoes.

Being back in his place for the first time in a week makes you smile, fingers adoringly tracing the dining table as you walk past it.

You feel Jason’s eyes on you.

“Watching me, weirdo?” You chuckle, turning your gaze to him.

“Just appreciating how gentle you are with my things.” With me goes unsaid, but the implication of it lingers like electricity in the air.

Stepping closer you lay your palms on his chest, his heart beats beneath your skin and it’s easy to imagine it’s beating only for you in this moment. Your eyes lock, a promise of always lingering in yours. You tap a finger over his heart three times, breathing a sigh of contentment, the taps scratching the itch you have to confess your love.

You linger in the moment for a few more seconds, gazing into his eyes and letting yourself find comfort and belonging in his company. Finally you press a peck to his lips, taking a step back and breaking the bubble.

“Come on, you big sap.” Taking Jason’s hand you guide him over to the couch, plopping down and pulling him into a cuddle.

Your hand strokes through his hair as you hold him, asking him to tell you about the books he loves. You let him talk late into the night, listening and adding comments and questions that set him on new tangents. You get the feeling his passions are not often met with such sincerity, something you’re more than happy to remedy.

When Jason’s voice tires and he releases a yawn you nod.

“I should probably head out, this outfit isn’t necessarily sleepover comfortable and I didn’t think to grab something else.” You smile apologetically, shifting to let him out of your hold so you can stand.

“Wait! I- I have something for you.” He stumbles getting off the couch, body lax from the calm affection. It’s cute, warming your heart as you giggle at him.

When he comes back it’s with a piece of cloth. Your brows furrow curiously.

“Jay? We talked about this-”

“No, no, I know! But trust me, okay?” He waits for you to nod before stretching out the fabric he’s holding to reveal a t-shirt.

A t-shirt that definitely looks too large for him.

“What is this?” It comes out as a whisper, not quite daring to have enough hope to be excited.

“After our conversation I got an idea. I figured if the only thing stopping you from being able to wear my clothes was them being too small... I’d just get some bigger clothes. I’ve been wearing this one all week so it’d be softer and smell like me.” His tone gets shyer at the end, smile unsure as he waits for your reaction.

You could cry. It’s such a glaringly simple solution that you’d never thought of, but here was Jason, having enacted it immediately.

Here was Jason, caring enough about your comfort and desires to ensure you could have this moment and this joy.

Here was Jason, seeing you.

“It’s perfect.” You met him where he stood, voice breaking on the emotion of the gesture.

As you took the t-shirt from his hands, fingers smoothing over the softened threads, you’d never felt more loved.

[cherrxboy]

I had this idea and I HAD to write it because I know my bitchass would NOT write it any other time (it's 5 in the morning and I haven't slept)

CW: explicit smut, I think - GN!reader - Mean!Satoru - uhhh rough seggs - Toru being an asshole - eating out/bj/whatever (reader receiving) - overstimulation I believe - a bit (probably a lot) of degrading/humiliation and stuff... he calls you a slut like two times - pet names used: baby, sweets, love - he refers to himself as "daddy" once but there's nothing else about that - mentions of death but like he's just joking - aftercare. (Not proofread) tell me if I missed anything!

English is my second language and I'm sleep deprived auauughh this is probably shit but I hope you enjoy hehe cause I personally love mean!Satoru he makes me go tehehehhehwojspsjpsj. Sorry if there are any typos ;((

♡

We've all read the fics, we've all seen the man, we've watched the show and I can't get this image outta my head, this little broken tape going off in my brain that Satoru is one of the biggest meanies when y'all are going at it. Doesn't matter what you are, what's in your pants, if you're giving or taking– he's mean.

Satoru is the type of guy that would keep you spread for him while he goes down on you, not caring if your thighs start to cramp or your legs feel sore. At some point it's not even about your pleasure anymore. He just wants to see how far he can push you, what new faces you can make, what little noises he can take out of you and Oh his favorite: how many times can he make you cum with just his mouth in a certain time limit.

He starts going and counts, each and every one of your orgasms, while also keeping track of the time. He's the strongest, he's definitely broken some records and one thing he really loves is breaking his own records. How many times can he make you cum in 15 minutes? How about 10? How about 2?!

"C'mon, love..."

"just one more, yeah? Oh I know, I know it's hurting but I'm almost breaking my last record, isn't that amazing??"

"Puh-leaseee? I'm making you feel good too, aren't I? Don't deny it, babe. I'm pretty sure everyone heard us with how loud you were being."

"No no no, I'm not saying it's baaad. Actually, makes me curious about how many noise complaints we can get in a week–"

Satoru is the type of guy to literally make fun of you while he's rearranging your guts. The type of guy that laughs in your face when you're crying all prettily, telling him that 'oh you can't take it' or how 'it's too big!' He's folding you in half at this point, not even letting you look away, hide your face in the pillows or anything as one of his hands keeps you still for him and the other holds onto your face, cupping you cheeks and squishing them together to make your face all pouty and adorable; you're just drooling and your eyes keep rolling back but Oh you better pay attention to him otherwise he's slowing down until you're begging for him to go faster and harder.

His thrusts suddenly become so weak and lazy and it's just not enough but he doesn't care, doesn't care that it practically hurts him too, he just wants to see you try and beg him to move with that fucked out lil brain of yours.

"Ah- Ah- Ah~! Harder, Toru! Puh-leaseee, faster, daddy!" As he giggles and mimics your voice (very horribly).

"Oh it's too big? But you're taking it so well, love, look at you! Shiiit~ I'm all the way in your tummy, see? Yeahhh well maybe you can't with all those tears but I definitely can."

"Hey, eyes on me, sweets– thereee we go~ Lemme see your pretty face, yeah?"

"What was that? Oh you're gonna cum? Again? That's a bit rude, baby, don't you think? You're being really greedy tonight. But it's okay, you can cum~ I'm feeling generous tonigt."

Satoru is the type of guy to pull on your hair when he's fucking you from behind, just to bring you closer to himself and make your back arch almost uncomfortably, just to whisper dirty ass shits in your ears that he knows would get you off.

He's got you on all fours and his free hand is on your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh as he pounds into you, sometimes giving it a little smack, groaning and moaning deeply against your neck and sometimes whimpering if you give a roll of your own hips as well. He's not shy and doesn't see why some guys hold back their moans... you seem to like it a lot, so he definitely won't stay quiet.

"Fuuuck baby~ you're so tight and so fucking warm– mmm! I'm gonna break you... uh-huh, you're gonna stay here in bed for at least a week, sweets. And I'm gonna take good care of you, yeah? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Staying here, full of my cum as we just cuddle and hide away from the world... I'll give you load after load, baby, as many as you want~"

"Taking my cock so fucking well, like a good little slut– no no no, don't you dare run away, sweets~ fuckkk... I can feel you squeezin' me, baby. You like when I call you that? Like when I treat you like the lil slut you are?"

"Oh fuck– please, give it to me sweets, please! Wanna feel you, baby, wanna feel you tightening up– shiiit.. just like that! I'm gonna fill you up so good~ just a little more, 'k? You can take it... yeah you can, good job~"

Satoru is the type of guy that's mean during sex but Oh so sweet afterwards. Man does not care how many rounds you've all been through or how tired he is... he's giving you a nice warm bath and a massage because he just can't have his sweet partner be in pain, can he?

He talks all that shit about making you unable to walk but god he thinks he'd die if he had to stay in bed with you for a whole day! He loves you, don't get me wrong. He loves spending time with you and just being with you merely in your presence but he's an active person to say the least and he can't just sit still for more than 10 minutes!

So you best believe he's giving you the best aftercare as soon as you guys are done. A glass of water to sooth your throat, soft towels to clean you up with, a nice warm bath along with a massage to make sure you won't be sore by the next few hours and finally he takes you to bed and cuddles you, kissing you all over your face and mumbling little "I love you"s again and again and again.

"You were so good for me today... such an angel. God, I'm so lucky to have you."

"I love you, you know that, right? I love you so much. You're the best thing that happened to me. I love you... did I mention that I love you??"

"If you ever leave me I'm gonna cry myself to death and then haunt you in your dreams and possibly fuck you there if you let me. Sorry, was that too descriptive? I just love you so much, sweets. You can't blame a guy for loving his amazing wonderful perfect sexy partner, can you?"

♡

First post and it's a thirst daaaamn. I'm not making a good first impression y'all I'm sorry 😞☝️

[kissktten]

itoshi rin

just rin and his cutesy girlfriend who loves it when he does her hair.

his hands are just so nice, and feel so good! the way he gently brushes his slim fingers through her locks, free hand reaching to gently pick up the bow you picked out.

“are you sure it’s this one?” he asks, leaning in to kiss your cheek softly. you nod happily, and rin is sure he’ll melt as he moves to tie the bow into your hair.

“so pretty.” he hums after finishing, looking back at your reflection in the mirror as your expression brightens.

your boyfriend, rin, is always happy to help with your outfits, your hair, even your makeup— but he will admit, he feels just a little flustered when you ask him to apply your lipstick for you.

“alright, love. let me just..” he trails off, attempting to appear nonchalant. he’s definitely not nervous. not at all!

okay, maybe he is. but he just wants to make sure his cute girlfriend’s face stays cute— he’s never ever forgive himself if he smeared her lipstick!

however, despite his doubts, rin is actually pretty good. and as time goes on, he’s a pro. easily applying some pretty lipstick over your lips, smiling just a little at the happy expression on your face. you’re so beautiful, he thinks.

masterlist.

note: might make more parts if u want more :3 sorry if this is short / boring!! :((

[meowabito]

masterlist

itoshi sae likes to rest his head on your ass.

is that weird? no, don’t tell him— because he really doesn’t care if it is or not. either way, your boyfriend will always find his way to his favourite position.

he doesn’t even like it in a sexual way. he just really enjoys resting his cheek against your behind, arms wrapped around your waist as he practically crushes your legs under his weight.

“sae, i need to get up..” you try, weakly trying to push the man off of you— however, it was no use.

“five more minutes.” he grumbles, tightening his grasp on your waist and slumping further against you. he loves your ass, and he loves you. sae’s so happy he could just melt into a puddle right here.

“you say that every time and it’s never five minutes.”

[luviisabella]

Stubborn!Bakugou who completely denies the idea of possibly liking you when Kirishima asks.

“Like hell. Who would like some idiot like that?”

“Whatever you say man.” And Kirishima can’t help but smile knowing the truth.

Stubborn!Bakugou who secretly watches as your desk fills up with chocolates and love letters on Valentines Day. A silent scoff in disgust at the guys who fawned over you.

Stubborn!Bakugou who laughs at you for coming back to the dorms soaking wet because you offered your umbrella to someone else and now you’re drenched and cold.

“No one told you to be nice.”

After he walked away he leaned against the wall asking himself, “Why the hell did I say that??”

Stubborn!Bakugou who gags when you show him your Halloween costume, you decided to dress up as a witch. A cute pink little witch hat, your dress that was pink and black, tight at the top and loose at the bottom and it wasn’t too short either, black tights and cute little black flats. You even had a candy apple to offer.

“Tsk.” He got up from the couch. “Halloween is for babies.” And he walked away turning the corner.

What you didn’t see was him clenching his heart to keep it from jumping out of his chest. “So fucking cute.” He thought to himself in attempt to keep himself together.

—

“Kats-?” You look up at him as you open your room door.

He stood there for a moment, frozen in place.. what was he doing here?? Why the hell did he-

and you just kissed him.

You knew exactly why he was being fussy.

He didn’t push you away either, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer and that was confirmation you were right. Kirishima had told you about it because he expected Bakugou to never say anything, probably letting the feelings build and spill over.

“I like you too dummy.”

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Your werewolf boyfriend gets into fights a lot, and while his pack thinks he’s a bad ass that can take anything, you know the truth.

The second he’s in your room, his ears pin back and he cries, letting out puppy whimpers and kneading you as you clean his wounds. He pouts and snuggles you, his tail wagging furiously.

He demands to be babied and spoiled… and yes, you have to kiss all of his boo-boos. And it would make him feel a lot better if you sat on his cock and let him knot you…

He might be the scary alpha leader to his pack, but he’s just a puppy to you… a very big, heavy, and horny puppy.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

michael kaiser wanted to be loved.

he wanted unconditional, ethereal, and never ending love. he wanted to always be supported, that no matter what he did, he will always and still be loved. he wanted the constant feeling of being supported no matter what, that he’s a lovable creature, that he isn’t subhuman like his father had once told him.

soccer brought that to kaiser.

with soccer came satisfaction. he would crush his rivals, his enemies, and each time, he felt a little bit more human, a little bit more loved. it got to the point where that feeling of pleasure and accomplishment became addictive for kaiser, and his sole purpose for playing soccer was to crush his opponents and receiving more and more love.

he became so obsessed with the glory that came from soccer that he began neglecting his own health and harming himself whenever things didn’t go his way when it came to soccer. his fingers wrapped tightly around his throat was once an action of his father, although it now carried on to him. bruises on his body was something that carried on from his childhood to his adult life, even though he had managed to escape his father when he was 15 after having been recruited from the prison.

whenever he lost a soccer match, he would go back to his room and cut off his airflow with his tattooed hand pressing right above the base of his neck as he struggled for oxygen, coughs constantly escaping him. it was only natural; after all, he lost a soccer match. he lost a bit of his humanity and love. he was just becoming subhuman again.

kaiser became so obsessed with soccer that he didn’t even realize that someone who loved him unconditionally was right there, right in front of him this whole time, and yet he was so caught up in his own life that he never even realized.

you and kaiser were childhood best friends. he was your mihya, not michael, no kaiser. he was small, weak, and couldn’t stand up to his father. he didn’t know how to speak to people in a kind manner. he bled when he fell on concrete, and yet he never cried. his face was always covered in grime and dried blood, his body was always littered in bruises, and yet he never cried in front of you. it took months after meeting you for him to finally even smile in front of you.

the first time kaiser ever cried in front of you was when you had gotten him a gift for his birthday.

kaiser never knew how to react to gifts, so he didn’t enjoy receiving them. but it was his eighth birthday, you were obviously going to get your best friend a gift. it was just a simple keychain of a blue rose, a flower you knew he liked. when you handed it to him with a cheerful “happy birthday, mihya!”, tears had sprung to his eyes.

he asked you why you were willing to give him a gift, why you were willing to spend time with him. when you just answered with a worried look and quiet “well, you’re my best friend, of course i would”, kaiser knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

maybe that was why his descent into madness and obsession hit you harder than it did kaiser.

you had indeed stuck with him, even now, at nineteen. twelve years after your initial meeting. you’ve had a crush on him for exactly as long as you had both met, spiraling from a small childhood crush to being deeply and hopeless in love and attached to him. and yet you had no idea whether kaiser liked you or not; he was too obsessed with soccer to show any signs.

whenever kaiser lost a match, you knew that he was going to commit to a session of harming himself for at least an hour so again. somehow, you felt more pain that kaiser did when he did so, always outside of his door, banging for him to stop and begging him to not do this to himself every time while tears escaped your eyes. you loved him; you didn’t want the boy you loved to be so willing and constant with hurting himself.

he ignored you every time, occasionally telling you to go away or mind your own business.

you had enough with it one day. you were sick of it, constantly hearing his choked noises from his bedroom every time he lost a match. finally, one day, when kaiser lost a match, he stormed off to his room again. but before he could slam the door shut, you shoved your entire body weight against the door, trying to stop it from shutting.

“what the fuck are you doing?” kaiser hissed, trying to push the door shut. “mind your own business. i’ll be done soon enough.” but no avail; you continued your weak attempts of pushing the door open. kaiser scoffed from the other side. he usually avoided getting mad at you, although it was hard for him to do so in the first place. but now you were starting to piss him off. can’t he offer himself a therapeutic session in peace?

“no! mihya, stop it and just open the door.” you were beginning to get pushed back from the door, before you used your final backup plan and shoved your arm in between the open space left from the door. you yelped from the pain, and kaiser instantly lost all anger at that moment, pulling open the door immediately when he heard your yelp. you stepped into the room stiffly.

“are you retarded? what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kaiser exclaimed, wide eyed as you clutched your arm, which was beginning to turn into the color of a rotting plum. you turned to glare at him, angry tears springing to your eyes.

“i’ll do this shit every fucking time for as long as you keep doing this to yourself every damn time you lost a match, you idiot.” you replied. you sighed before looking down somberly. “how long are you going to keep doing this to yourself, mihya? you’re obsessed with fame. you’re obsessed with all of this. you’re enjoying ruining the lives of other people for love. mihya, that’s not worth it. that’s not worth your body. that’s not worth your mentality.”

kaiser felt anger bubbling up inside of him again, and before he realized his, his voice raised to a level that he would usually never dare to use with you, although he would be fine using this tone with anyone else. “you don’t fucking understand! your father never called you a subhuman! he never choked you for no reason! your mother never left you! your father never beat you every day no particular reason! your father didn’t require you to steal every fucking day because his fatass can’t move two meters from the couch and his precious beer! soccer makes me feel loved! soccer makes me feel human! soccer is with me!”

for a moment, you stood there silently. you stared at him as he huffed, his breathing shallow from the loud rant. his eyes were sharp, and in that moment, only one thought ran through your head.

this was still your mihya.

he was yelling at you, you knew that. but he has every right to say all of this, to be mad at the world, at you. he has every right to be upset, to be angry. he has every right to rant about his trauma. he has every right to trauma dump. but at the same time, he’s missing a key component here.

“well, would soccer still be with you if you were nobody?! would all of those fans and self-satisfying thoughts still love you if you were no one?!” you shouted. your eyebrows knit together; did he not realize how fabricating this all was? how shallow this all was?

“no one loved me when i was no one!” kaiser hollered back. “no one loved me when i was just some stupid brat who spent most of his time outside of his house wandering on the streets! no one loved me when my father still used to beat me every day like some fucking punching back! no one loved me when i was still just a subhuman!”

and at that moment, a tear leaked from the corner of your eye. shit, this wasn’t even your problem, and yet angry tears were still flowing. your fists clenched, before finally, you screamed. “i loved you were you were no one!” finally, you finally finally finally got it out. kaiser froze, but you kept on going. “i loved you when you still wore dirty clothes every day! i loved you when you didn’t even know how to say a polite word to anyone! i loved you when you were still small and stupid and you!”

your lips quivered, more tears threatening to fall. you wiped your eyes. “before the ‘love’. before the fame. before soccer. and mihya,” you placed a hand on your swelling arm, that was going from rotting plum purple to the blue of kaiser’s eyes. “i still love you. i love you. but if you just can’t accept it and you’ll continue to wallow in that stupid destructive self-pity of yours where you think that no one loves you, then don’t come crawling back to me!”

you turned around to leave the room, your hand on the door knob, until a warm pair of arms wrapped around your waist. your felt tears begin to soak through your shirt from your shoulder, and your eyes widened. he’s crying?

“goddamn it, i don’t know why im fucking crying. i shouldn’t be. but what the fuck…” kaiser whispered into your shoulder. “i—i-“ he gulped, and your could see his hands interlock together as they squeezed the other like a lifeline. “i love you too.”

finally.

you turned around, separating his hands from the other and intertwining your fingers with his. you smiled softly at him, a small sniffle escaping you. “you said it. im so proud of you, mihya.” you knew how much trouble he had saying those words. how hard it was to say something that you had never heard before. “and i love you.”

silently, you got on your tip-toes, your lips almost touching his, before a few quiet words escaped you. “is this okay?”

kaiser huffed quietly. “way to ruin to moment. you’re this far into the process, and now you’re asking? but fuck yes.” you laughed before you softly planted your lips onto his.

the kiss wasn’t rough in the least, but it spoke of years of pent up emotion and unspoken pain. kaiser untangled his fingers from your and cupped your face so strangely gently, which he silently swore in his heart at that moment that he would never hold someone else like this, like the love of his life.

and when kaiser pulled away from the kiss, just a bit out of breath but just right, that’s when he saw it. deep in your eyes, and also in his.

the look of love.

word count: 1.8k (1878)

a/n: i watched shark tale for the first time the other day, and it had NO RIGHT being that good. the angie and oscar argument changed me forever, and it inspired me to make this. i was originally going to make this for isagi before i realized that isagi is AWARE that his parents love him, and that this prompt also matches with kaiser better.