⁀➷ FALLING | H. SHINSO

transferring to a new university was nerve-wracking. but finding out on day one that there was no dorm room for you? even worse.

apparently, some glitch in the system left your name off the dormitory list. and now, there wasn’t a single open spot on campus. you wanted to cry, but calling your parents and worrying them was the last thing you wanted to do.

so you spent the entire evening scouring for solutions. a faculty member pointed you to a site where students looking for roommates could post listings, and by some miracle, you found one that seemed decent. the description was short but to the point: “apartment near campus. one room available. quiet. no bullshit.”

it wasn’t exactly the warmest ad, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. you sent a text, got a short reply, and now here you were.

standing outside the apartment door, your arms ached from carrying a heavy box of books and sentimental junk while your suitcase full of clothes sat by your feet. you hesitated for a second before knocking. the moment the door opened, you almost regretted your entire life.

a tall guy with white hair, scarred skin, and heavy-lidded, almost dead-looking eyes stared back at you. his presence was so intimidating that your first instinct was to turn and run back down the hall. but you froze instead, staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“is touya here?” you managed to squeak out, trying your best not to sound completely terrified.

he raised an eyebrow. “speaking. who the hell are you?” his voice was deep and rough, his tone sharp enough to cut.

“i-i’m y/n. your... roommate? i applied here two days ago, we spoke over t—”

“oh. right.” he cut you off, scratching the back of his neck. “didn’t think you’d be here so damn early.”

if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was complaining. but then again, it was 7 a.m. if anything, you must’ve woken him up.

“ya need help with all that?” he asked, gesturing toward the box in your arms.

“uh, yes... please,” you said, relieved and surprised he even offered.

he grabbed the box with one hand like it weighed nothing, and you followed him inside, dragging your suitcase behind you. he set the box on the dining table and kicked the door shut behind him. the place was neat. not spotless, but cleaner than you expected. the furniture was simple, dark-colored, and kind of mismatched, giving the place a weirdly manly vibe.

“bathroom’s down the hall,” touya said lazily, pointing. “kitchen’s over there. don’t leave your shit everywhere. and that’s your room.”

he gestured toward a door at the end of the hall, and you followed him inside. the room was small but tidy. the bed was bare, just a mattress and a pillow, but it was clean. there was a desk and a small closet, too. it doesn’t look like anyone’s ever stayed there.

“anyway,” he muttered, turning to leave. “don’t make too much noise. i don’t like loud people.”

six months later, you’ve realized that living with touya had been an adjustment. at first, there were awkward “hi” and “bye” exchanges, brief encounters in the kitchen as you grabbed a granola bar or nuked leftovers in the microwave. he wasn’t much of a talker, which was fine because you weren’t either. not to him anyway.

but then, slowly, things started to change.

it began with shared dinners. a random night where you’d made too much pasta, shyly offering him some because it felt wrong to eat in front of him while he sat on the couch scrolling through his phone. he’d taken the plate with a gruff “thanks,” but the next night, there was an extra bowl of ramen waiting for you when you got home from class.

from there, it spiraled into routine. dinners became a shared activity, a small tradition where you’d sit across from each other, trading sarcastic comments and the occasional genuine laugh. somewhere in between, touya went from your intimidating, scar-faced roommate to your closest friend. you told him everything now—your classes, your crushes, your petty grievances. he listened, mostly. sometimes, he’d even chime in with advice, though his tone always bordered on teasing.

so when you burst through the door that night, cheeks flushed with excitement, it felt natural to dump the day’s events onto him. touya was already on the couch, two bowls of noodles on the coffee table. his lips quirked into a small smile as he watched you kick off your shoes and drop your bag haphazardly by the door.

“guess what?” you beamed, practically bouncing onto the couch beside him, knees brushing his thigh. “some guy asked me out today!”

his smile faltered, but you didn’t notice. you were too caught up in recounting the story, your voice light and animated as you detailed every little moment.

touya’s grip on his chopsticks tightened. he forced a small chuckle, though it sounded strained.

“can’t believe this actually happened!”

“yeah, well… it’s about time,” he muttered.

but you didn’t hear the sarcasm laced in his words. you were too wrapped up in your own excitement, oblivious to the way his jaw clenched or how his gaze lingered a second too long on your face.

he should’ve been happy for you. he told himself he was. roommates didn’t catch feelings, not ones like this. and yet, every time you smiled at him like that, so sweet and innocent, he felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

the days blurred after that. you went on your first date, then your second, then your third. touya tried to convince himself it was fine. this was fine. he was just your roommate. but you started coming home later and later, your absence stretching into the kind of silence that made his skin crawl.

the noodles he made for you—carefully cooked just the way you liked them—sat untouched on the counter, growing cold as the hours ticked by. he’d find himself sitting on the couch, staring at the door, half-hoping and half-dreading the moment you’d walk in, cheeks flushed with the afterglow of another date.

he hated it.

he hated him. the guy you wouldn’t shut up about, the one who’d taken up too much of your time, your attention. it should be him you’re coming straight home to after school.

touya couldn’t stand it anymore.

he barely needed to put in the effort. you were so trusting, so sweet, and all that innocent yapping gave him everything he needed. your schedule, your habits, even the places you liked to study or hang out. all it took was one stop after his own classes ended to track him down: the library.

the guy was just sitting there, headphones in, engrossed in his laptop.

by the time touya was done talking to him, the guy was pale and nodding, muttering weak promises to do as he was told. touya left the library without a backward glance, his mind already on you.

he got home with enough time to spare, pulling out the instant noodles he knew you loved, the ice cream he bought on the way back. he even set the table, everything arranged just the way you liked it. he’d planned it all perfectly, down to the minute.

and then the door creaked open, and there you were.

he already expected it but it still hurt nonetheless when he saw you—eyes red and swollen, your lips trembling as you tried to hold yourself together. the faintest sniffle escaped, your hands clutching the strap of your bag like it was the only thing anchoring you.

“he broke up with me,” you choked out, voice cracking.

and he almost regret what he’s done. almost.

you didn’t have to say more. he crossed the room in an instant, pulling you into his chest. his hoodie smelled like laundry detergent and faintly of cigarettes, and you buried your face into the fabric, tears soaking through.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as his hand rubbed slow circles on your back. “he’s an idiot. didn’t deserve you anyway.”

his lips brushed the crown of your head, a gesture so soft, so tender, it made your heart ache in a different way.

you melted into him, his arms the safest place you’d ever known. and as he whispered quiet reassurances, a small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

this was how it should be. you, in his arms, leaning on him, trusting him. he’d make sure it stayed that way. you were his, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

Bae. I love how you write bakugo and I MISS how you write him. If you feel like it, a smau for anything bakugo. Anything

If u want more creative guidance??? Maybe keep with the workout partner theme? Or maybe more canonical and they’re pro hero coworkers? Or anything else ??? Idfk I’m not a writer or creative I’m just tryna give ideas

.ᐟ co-running

k.bakugou smau

when you own an agency together

a/n: im ao higgh rn ohhhhhhmfg j love you ixeyi

m.list

I'm so sorry but ever since that teen Hawks page was translated on twitter I can't stop thinking about it. like. Mera treated him like a person. he was assigned to Hawks when he was already a teenager. did no one treat him like a person before then? was it such an uncommon occurrence that it seemed special when someone did? I mean, they didn't even let him have a person's name. they gave him a hero name, and to the HPSC, that was the name of a tool. of a product. they basically bought a child and treated him so coldly that Mera stood out to him because he treated him like a person. the bars of my enclosure.

Pages Left to Fill 💕⋆｡°✩ Shoto Todoroki

Masterlist ୨ৎ

It's Shoto's first Valentine's with you, and he's determined to get you the 'correct' gift.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

Glitter 𐔌 𐦯 : Happy Valentines !!!

Warnings :Female!Reader, reader is a GF, established relationship, slight suggestiveness, big texting section, honestly just really fluffy

W/C : ~3.2k

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

Sometimes, Shoto can be a little socially inept. 

He knows this. He knows it stems from his isolated upbringing, his complicated family dynamic—though he hates how often he has to attribute parts of himself to that.  But being at UA helped, being surrounded by more ‘normal’ people (if you could say that?) was helping. He’s learning, slowly but surely, and he finds himself enjoying all these new experiences, even if he’s a little late to them.

Enter you. 

You’ve only been dating him for a few weeks, barely enough time for him to grasp the basics of being someone’s boyfriend. But he wants to get it right, especially with Valentine’s Day just three days away.

He never thought much of it before. It was just another date on the calendar, something he associated more with pink-themed store displays than anything meaningful. But now, it feels important. A chance to prove himself to you, to show that this relationship is worth your time. That he doesn’t need you to guide him through everything.

Now it’s a day where he’s supposed to do something special for you.

For the first time in a long time, Shoto Todoroki feels out of his depth. 

He has no idea where to start.

Unfortunately, none of his friends seem like they’d have good advice. The only one who crossed his mind for a second was Denki, but that idea was immediately discarded. He could already imagine the kind of advice he’d get, some overly complicated plan involving sunglasses and, for some reason, an unnecessary explosion.

Which brings him to now, Tuesday morning, staring at Natsuo’s contact.

He’s pretty sure Natsuo has a girlfriend, or at least some experience in romantic endeavors. In their limited interactions, Shoto has picked up on a few subtle signs. There were the late-night phone calls he’d catch Natsuo having in the garden, the way his older brother’s face would turn bright red when he thought no one was watching. Then there was the time he overheard Natsuo asking Fujumi for advice on gifts around Christmas—specifically romantic gifts. And, of course, there was that one unfortunate day when Shoto happened to notice a collection of what he could only describe as… love marks on Natsuo’s neck, which left him quietly questioning his brother's life choices for the rest of the week.

So, with all this information he has gathered, Shoto decides Natsuo is the best course of action. He did briefly consider asking Fujumi for advice, but something told him she’d get far too excited and blow everything out of proportion. She’d probably give him a long lecture too. He doesn’t want that. He just needs a little guidance. 

The phone rings once, and then twice, and then he’s sent to voicemail. Shoto pouts down at the screen. Before he can go to google as his second choice for help, a text comes through first. 

[9:03 AM] Natsuo: Sorry, man, I’m in class right now. What’s up?

This feels strange, asking for relationship advice. He’s not used to talking about this kind of thing, especially with his brother. After a few seconds, he types:

[9:04 AM] Shoto: I need help with Valentines day.

The reply comes quickly:

[9:06 AM] Natsuo: Valentine’s Day?

[9:08 AM] Natsuo: Wait... are you dating someone? Since when??

Oh, he forgot that he hadn’t told his family yet. He wasn’t planning on telling anyone until things felt a little more serious. But I guess asking these sort of questions made it somewhat inevitable. 

[9:10 AM] Shoto: Yeah. I have a girlfriend. We have only been dating for 3 weeks. 

[9:11 AM] Shoto: Please don’t tell anyone yet.

[9:13 AM] Natsuo: Alright, alright, I won’t say anything. I get it. 

For some reason, in this moment, Shoto feels his heart warm a little. He’s never really had the true brotherly relationship. But this feels normal for them, domestic.

[9:15 AM] Shoto: Thanks.

[9:17 AM] Natsuo: Haha! So serious! Dont sweat it lil bro!

Nevermind, Shoto scowls, he hates his big brother. 

[9:19 AM] Shoto: Can you give me advice now. 

[9:21 AM] Natsuo: Ah, right, the actual reason you texted me.

[9:21 AM] Natsuo: Hmm. Try not to overdo it, since it’s still early. 

[9:21 AM] Natsuo: Maybe try something lowkey but personal? 

[9:22 AM] Natsuo: Don’t overthink it, dude. I’m sure at this early stage the fact you are even trying to do anything will be appreciated! 

[9:23 AM] Shoto: Can you give me an example? Just so I’m sure I’m on the same page.

[9:25 AM] Natsuo: Hm… okay. Like a handwritten card? Or a picture of you both? Sum like that. 

Shoto’s mind goes blank for a second.

[9:26 AM] Shoto: That seems too simple. 

[9:26 AM] Shoto: Have you ever been in a relationship? 

[9:28 AM] Natsuo: Going to pretend that wasn’t rude! 😒

Shoto’s brow furrows.

[9:28 AM] Natsuo: But yeah, I’ve been in a few. Trust me, the simple stuff always hits.

[9:30 AM] Shoto: I’ll try it. Thanks.

[9:31 AM] Natsuo: Anytime bro! One more think tho.

[9:32 AM] Natsuo: Since you're dating now... uh,  just don’t forget to be... responsible, okay?

Shoto frowns at the screen. [9:37 AM] Shoto: Responsible?

[9:39 AM] Natsuo: You know what i mean! Haha 

[9:41 AM] Shoto: No I do not. 

Natsuo’s reply comes quickly, almost too quickly.

[9:43 AM] Natsuo: Look, I’m just saying. Protection and all that. Haha

Shoto’s eyes widen, the full realization dawning on him. His face flushes red instantly.

[9:43 AM] Shoto: I do not need this advice. Thank you. 

Natsuo doesn’t stop there.

[9:45 AM] Natsuo: Hey, I’m just trying to help. You’re my little brother!!!

Shoto stares at the screen, blinking rapidly, his face still flushed.

[9:47 AM] Shoto: I appreciate it. But I’m fine.

[9:47 AM] Shoto: Maybe speak to your sexual endeavours about this. 

[9:50 AM] Natsuo: what???!??

[9:47 AM] Shoto: To stop biting you.

[9:52 AM] Natsuo: You know what, I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that.

Shoto quickly types, trying to change the subject before it gets any worse.

[9:54 AM] Shoto: Anyway, thanks for the other advice. I’ll try what you suggested.

So, something personal huh? 

~ 

Which brings Shoto to Thursday afternoon, the day before Valentine’s Day.

So far, he thinks he’s managed to keep his plans for you under wraps. Maybe a little too well—because just yesterday, during one of your usual study dates, you had paused mid-note-taking, tapped your pen against your lip, and tilted your head at him.

"You’ve been too quiet lately."

He had blinked at you, unsure how to respond. I’m always quiet wouldn’t exactly work when you already knew him well enough to see through him.

It was... cute, in a way. How easily you picked up on his shifts in mood, even when he thought he was being subtle. He didn’t really know what to do with that kind of attention. But he liked it.

He just hoped you didn’t suspect anything yet.

Anyway, today for mission valentine, he is in the mall.

He ended up taking Natsuos advice somewhat, taking the time to write a detailed and heartfelt card with his feelings to you, but something was still missing. He knew to get flowers, ordering a custom bunch on Tuesday night to be delivered in time (Thank you Endeavour name drop), but despite Natsuos advice to keep it ‘lowkey’ he was on the lookout for a little more.

He’d been wandering around the mall for the last twenty minutes now, his frown growing more pronounced with time. How do I put this feeling into words? How do I show her how important she is to me? How long I’ve waited for this…

He stops in front of a tourist stand. Surely, a trip is too much…

“Shoto???”

His head snaps up at the familiar voice, crinkling the leaflet in his hand as he turns. But the flash of green quickly eases his heart.

Midoriya.

Shoto exhales, releasing tension as his friend approaches, eyes bright with curiosity.

“I thought that was you!” Midoriya says, stopping beside him. His gaze drops to the crumpled leaflet in Shoto’s hand, curiosity flickering across his face. “Uh… are you planning a trip?”

Shoto follows Midoriya’s gaze down to the brochure in his grip—some kind of couples' getaway package, complete with scenic resorts and heart-shaped chocolates. His expression remains neutral, but internally, he’s horrified.

“No.” He drops it back onto the stand like it burned him.

Midoriya blinks before smiling. “Oh! Are you here for Valentine’s Day shopping?”

Shoto doesn’t answer immediately, which is answer enough.

Midoriya’s eyes widen. “Wait… you are?! Does that mean—do you have a girlfriend?”

Shoto feels a strange mix of emotions—mild regret for being spotted, slight panic at the idea of the entire class finding out before he’s ready, and, underneath it all, a small, hesitant sense of pride. Because yes. Yes, he does.

“…Yes,” he admits at last.

Midoriya gasps, practically vibrating in place. “Shoto! That’s amazing! Who is it? How did I not realize?! I mean, I thought you were smiling at your phone more, but—”

Shoto feels his face heat up as Midoriya rattles off every small detail he had apparently noticed. The way he texted more. The way he seemed lighter. The way he—

“—just kind of smile at nothing sometimes?” Midoriya gestures vaguely.

Shoto presses his lips together. Was it really that obvious?

Midoriya suddenly gasps again, eyes practically glowing. “Wait, does that mean this is your first Valentine’s Day with her?! That’s so special, Shoto!”

Shoto exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes. That’s why I’m here.”

Midoriya’s enthusiasm doesn’t waver. “Okay, okay, no pressure! But what’s your plan? Do you need help picking something?”

Shoto hesitates. He doesn’t mind Midoriya knowing—he’s probably the safest person to tell, outside of Natsuo. But still, something about sharing this part of his life makes his throat feel tight.

“…I have a card,” he says slowly. “And flowers. But I wanted something more personal.”

Midoriya hums in thought. “Something personal… Oh! What about an experience? Like a day out or something—maybe not a whole trip though...”

Shoto pauses. His mind flickers back to a few weeks ago—how your eyes had lit up when you talked about that one artist. The way you always played their music during study dates, humming absentmindedly, completely lost in the moment. He remembers the song playing in the background as you gently traced your fingers along his face, both of you hesitating, then leaning in for a soft, tentative first kiss. The way you had giggled afterward, your smile so warm it made his chest ache.

“…I know what to get,” he says, turning on his heel.

Midoriya blinks. “Oh! Okay! Do you want me to come with—”

“No.”

Midoriya chuckles. “Alright, alright! Good luck, Shoto! And, um, if you ever wanna talk about—” He gestures vaguely, expression warm. “You know. Relationships. I’m happy to listen.”

Shoto gives him a nod—one that, after a moment, carries a little more meaning than just goodbye. 

~

Friday morning, Valentine's day. He had woken up to a good morning text from you, and motivation messages from both Natsuo and Midorya. And suddenly he was nervous in a whole different way. 

It wasn’t like him to be uncertain. But there was something about today, about this. Every time you looked his way, his chest tightened. His fingers would flex in his lap, as if he could do something with that energy.

The problem was, he couldn’t seem to get a moment alone with you. The entire class was buzzing, and as the day went on, his nerves grew. How was he supposed to give you the gift without feeling awkward? He hadn’t really thought about how it would feel to give a present to someone he cared about. What if it wasn’t enough? What if it wasn’t right?

But then, at lunch, the bell rang, and that was it. The moment he’d been waiting for. The class broke apart, but his eyes found you instantly.

He took a breath, gathered his thoughts, and stood. You hadn’t noticed yet, so he took the opportunity to walk over to where you were standing.

“Hey,” he said quietly, and when you turned to him, there was that familiar warmth in your gaze that made his heart beat a little faster.

“Hey,” you replied, the smile tugging at your lips.

“I…” He hesitated, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest. It felt strange to be so out of his element. “I have something for you.”

“Really?”, your eyes widened for just a moment, the surprise softening into something warmer.

He looked at the ground for a second, clearing his throat. “I... I wanted to give it to you, but... maybe... somewhere quieter?”

You tilted your head, sensing his nervousness, and nodded with a soft smile. "Of course, Shoto."

A few moments later, Shoto and you were perched under a bright tree, the sun out as he watched his classmates flutter around. You were looking at him expectantly, but not with judgement, a slight blush across your face. Now or never, huh?

His hand shook ever so slightly as he reached into his bag and handed you the envelope. He avoided your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his face despite himself.

You carefully opened it, scanning the card. He could feel your attention on him, the way you were taking in the words he had carefully written. His throat felt tight, but he waited, watching the way your expression softened.

“This is… really thoughtful, Shoto,” you said, your voice gentle.

He didn’t know what to say to that. It was strange to hear someone speak to him like that—like he had actually done something right. “I wasn’t sure if…” He stopped, unsure of how to finish. “I wanted to make sure it was right.”

You smiled at him again, this time the warmth more tangible. “It’s perfect,” you said, and there was something in the way you said it that made his heart calm, just a little.

Without thinking too much about it, Shoto pulled out the second part of the gift—the tickets. “There’s… one more thing.”

You looked at the tickets, then back at him, confusion flickering across your face for a split second before it was replaced by recognition.

“These are for the concert?” you asked, shock creeping onto your face.

Shoto nodded, his expression as neutral as he could make it, though he could feel the tension in his shoulders. “I remembered you mentioned wanting to go,” he said. “I thought… if you still wanted to, we could go together.”

You blinked, clearly surprised. For a moment, Shoto was afraid you might not like it—but then your smile grew wider, and it felt like the weight had finally lifted from his chest.

“Shoto, this … this is too much! You didn’t need to do all of this for me..”

“I did,” he said simply, looking at the tickets. “I wanted you to be able to go.” And, selfishly he thought, he wanted more alone time with you. As much as he could manage.

You stepped closer, your hand lightly brushing against his. “Thank you,” 

He nodded, a faint flush creeping up his neck, it had all been worth it. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it, Sho…” You looked away for a moment, cheeks flushing slightly, before murmuring, “But this totally overshadows mine…”

Shoto blinked, “What...?” he asked, a little surprised.

“I didn’t know we were doing big gifts, okay?” you raised your hands up, like trying to defend yourself. “So I just made you something, it’s just little and—”

His heart softened, for some reason he didn’t even consider you would also get him a gift. He stepped a little closer, catching your gaze. “I’m sure whatever you made is perfect.” His voice was gentle, reassuring. 

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out a small, neatly wrapped box. "I… hope you like it," you said, a little uncertain.

"I’m sure I will." He took the box from you carefully, his fingers brushing yours for a second as he did, looking up from the box to your gaze, making sure to keep this memory burned into his mind.

He gently opened the box, not wanting to disturb your work, before moving the tissue paper out of the way. He paused.

It was a scrapbook.

It was small, about the size of a small notebook, with the first picture of you both plastered on the front page, surrounded by little stickers. His hands trembled slightly as he held it, the weight of it making his chest feel heavier than usual.

His thumb traced over the cover, heart thudding in his chest.

“It’s not finished yet!” you sputtered, nerves bubbling up. “I’ve only filled in the first few pages, but I was thinking we could fill it in together and—” As you spoke, his fingers flicked through the first pages. There it was—your first date, the receipt from the boba store, the cinema tickets. As he flipped through, a soft, warm feeling began to bloom in his chest. It was clear now what Natsuo meant. Personal gifts, something with real meaning, were truly unbeatable.

Shoto could barely speak, eyes tracing over each little detail you’d added. 

“I…” He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat as he searched for the right words. “This... this means a lot.”

He met your gaze, his chest tightening with something more than gratitude. Everything he had felt in the last few (amazing, complicated) weeks surged to the surface. You’re mine. He had someone who took the time to do this for him, someone who cared enough to leave pages in a scrapbook just for him to fill. 

Thank you doesn’t mean enough, so he lets his body talk for itself. Even though everything was still new—still uncertain, still so fragile—he couldn’t deny how much he wanted to be close to you. It’s only been a few weeks, and nothing has been exchanged except a brief kiss or two and some light hand holding. But despite the lack of his experience burning in the back of his mind, he can’t help but lean in. 

He reached out, hand gently brushing through your hair, pulling you closer. Even as the thought nagged at the back of his mind—we're in public, no one knows yet—he couldn't bring himself to care. The happiness swelling in his chest was overpowering.

His lips meet yours, and you must feel it too, in the way this kiss is more powerful than the rest.  It was still new, still uncertain in some ways, but there was an undeniable tenderness that made Shoto feel like everything had led to this moment.

He could do this forever. He wanted to. And maybe—just maybe—he’d get to.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

i've been writing so much angst lately this was kinda hard. But enjoy loves! and happy day of love! ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

ANDIE POOKIE! I have a question that's been occupying my brain but I can't think of a solid answer to!

If the reader and Shouto were to ever have a serious argument about something what would it be :0

I really can't think of a scenario cuz Shouto is usually so kind, understanding, empathetic and chill >:(

Ooooh good question and I think I may have an answer!! I think probably the most feasible things are 1) Reader putting themselves in danger, or 2) misalignment on some aspect of their relationship.

A couple months ago when I was on my shit about Shouto being a Grade-A, All Natural, Grass-Fed, FDA-Certified Starer™, someone sent me an ask about Shouto staring at Reader across a party after an argument. I have most of a corresponding drabble written, but it took me forever to think of a reason why they might have a fight!! I eventually went the relationship misalignment route, with Shouto and Reader fighting about money.

Specifically, Reader does not want to merge finances due to personal insecurity. Shouto knows he belongs to Reader heart and soul and there is no risk of him leaving the relationship ever. He sees it as the most natural thing in the world that their next step would be to be one in all things, finances included, so Reader's hesitance is sort of an affront, like, do they not see this relationship the way he does?? so he spends the evening sort of brooding and watching our Reader with a laser focus. But Reader has a Past™ and their hesitance is less about their commitment to the relationship and more about overcoming their own need to protect themselves and mitigate risks; they just need to make that final jump.

I like this kind of disagreement because the heart of it is about how much two people love one another and can come to trust one another, rather than it truly being about personal differences. And I think it fits Shouto pretty well, because it's still in-line with how thoughtful and caring and bone deep good he is!!

Anywayyyy those are my initial thoughts lol. I hope this is somewhat helpful!!

dogpile

Another vaguely Annihilation-themed stamp 🍂

💛Gingerbreeding at its Spiciest💙

My contribution to the Dabihawks Secret Santa project! This was an amusingly cute prompt 😄

Fatgum form smut pleaseeeeeeeee 🤲🏼 I just want them to love each other and bang

His fat form is good for many things. It's good for his job, obviously. It's good for combat and his brand, good for making him seem more approachable-

It's not good for intimacy.

Tai keeps the light off, as if that makes it any better. That way, he can't see your face when he sits down next to you on the couch. Surprisingly, you're quick to throw a leg over him, straddling his lap with wide legs.

"This is what you've been hiding from me?" you tease. Your touch is so liberal; you give it so easily, so much. Everything about you is pressing and touching and-

A hand on your hip to keep you apart for him.

"I know it's not..." he trails off. It's not a lot of things. The though won't form; his skin is buzzing too loud.

"I like you like this." You cup his cheeks in your hands, head tilted with an abundance of affection and a hint of mischief. "I like a big boy."

But Taishiro can't shake off the feeling that you're lying.

"It's okay." He laughs this time. "I know I'm not-- I know I'm not attractive like this."

He can feel your weight shift as you tilt your head to the other side, watching him in the dark.

"Give me your hand."

Both of your hands fit into his. Easily, you guide it to your mouth and kiss each knuckle, slowly, unrushed, each touch a love letter in itself. It's tender. So tender tgat he gives into you, lets you moce him how you need him.

Then, you drag it to your cheek, down your neck, all the way to the top of your collarbone. He almost pulls away on instinct, but your grip is firm and trustworthy. The give of your breast shocks the breath out of him, especially when you close your hands around his and force him to squeeze.

"Oh," he manages. He's never fully allowed himself this, never allowed himself to touch you, but now you make him. He's caressing your stomach, fumbling with your shirt--

Oh.

Oh.

His hand is suddenly down the front of your pants. Your panties are soft and lacey, but you don't give him time to admire that. No, you're pushing him lower, until his thick fingers are pressing between your folds-

"Tai," you whisper, right into the shell of his ear. "Am I wet?"

"Y-yeah."

Your hips roll into the palm of his hand and he's amazed at how your excitement slips between his fingers.

"Am I wet for you?"

His breath gets caught in his throat. "Yeah."

Your laugh goes so deep that it's almost a purr. Throwing an arm around his neck, your hips move again, this time more securely. It happens again, then again, then again, and your head dips low into the crook of his neck.

"Mm," your voice is buttery with want. "Yeah, I am."

It takes him a while to cut through the static thats built on in his brain and realize what you're doing. You're masturbating. You're masturbating using his hand.

"I'm so wet for you." Your body presses closer to his torso. "I want your fingers."

Oh, he should move, but he's just so gobsmacked that he can't. This has to be a dream, a hallucination-

"I want your cock."

Your tone tips up, wobbly and tender and ugly in the most delicious way, the way that makes his ribs open with want-

When you cum, it's with a garbled tone. If he weren't touching you, feeling how your pussy twitches and pulls and wets, he'd think you were lying to him, protecting his ego.

But, instead you chuckle, right into the shell of his ear.

"That's how bad I want you."

Second design